She pulled the sweater over her head to hide her shaking hands and walked past Flynn into the hallway. “I want some coffee. How about you?”
He was right behind her, a constant shadow every day since Detective Kline had hired him and his team. She knew before he answered that he would want another cup or two. Her private security team went through more coffee in a day than she did in a month. Even late in the afternoon when the sun dipped toward the horizon, the scent of fresh brew still filled the air.
He grabbed two mugs from the dish drainer and held them out with a smile while she poured. “I could use some caffeine.”
“I figured as much.”
His smile slipped, and he blew out a breath, leaning his hip against the counter and watching her over the rim of his mug as he sipped.
Valerie waited. Flynn had something on his mind, but she’d learned over the past weeks that he couldn’t be rushed. So, she mirrored his nonchalant stance, failing miserably at looking even slightly relaxed.
Watching her closely, he set his cup down. “What are you holding back?”
“Nothing.” The lie came so easily she almost cringed.
Flynn lifted a single dark eyebrow and took another slow, measured sip. The ceramic made a soft clink on the tiled countertop, but his eyes never left hers. He didn’t accuse her of lying, but he didn’t accept her explanation either. “You started to open your mouth, then you turned and grabbed a sweater so fast you almost slammed your finger in the drawer.”
“Did I?”
He nodded. Taking another sip, then another, his deep brown eyes bored into her.
The silence was too much. She shook her head, and her thoughts spilled out. “I’ve seen it from the inside, and I’m not convinced that this trafficking ring is just in Charleston.”
“Of course it’s not. It’s an international issue, and no major US city is immune.” He was so calm, the slight flaring of his nostrils the only sign that this was more than mundane small talk.
His steady, unwavering confidence settled Valerie’s nerves even as flashes of the night she was auctioned off pushed their way to the forefront of her mind. The bright light, the auctioneer describing Valerie’s physical attributes as if she were livestock.
Scowling, she gulped her coffee, cringing when the hot liquid scalded her throat. “That’s not what I meant. It doesn’t matter if it’s just one officer or all of them, the problem is deeper than Charleston. I know a few of the women I was held with were from other cities and other states.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And I know that I heard at least one of our captors mention shipping captives to winning bidders outside the Carolinas.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Then why should I trust a federal lawman over a local one?”
“You shouldn’t trust anyone.” He was still stoic, matter-of-fact.
She held his gaze, stomach tightening. “What about you?”
He shrugged one shoulder, not appearing to be offended by her moment of distrust. “If I was going to hurt you, I’ve had enough opportunities.”
His words rang true.
She relaxed against the counter as tension she hadn’t known she was holding on to drained enough that she could admit to herself that he was yet one more person she could trust. Now, she had two. Him and Ellie. “You’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact that witness protection might be a death sentence for me.”
“You don’t have to go.” Was there something in his eyes when he’d said that? Did he not want her to go?
“I can’t stay here. And there’s nothing in Charleston for me.” She glanced out the kitchen window, the late afternoon sun sparkling off the clear blue water of the lake. Turning back to Flynn, she gestured toward the front of the house. “You want to sit on the porch for a bit? I need some fresh air.”
Flynn took his smartphone out of his pocket, scrolling through the live video feeds of the security cameras he’d installed all over the property. After he’d checked each thoroughly, he nodded, and she hurried outside before he could change his mind.
Valerie sat on the porch swing, and Flynn took his usual chair, which was angled so he had a clear view of the gravel driveway that meandered through the trees and disappeared out of sight.
She used one foot to push off from the smooth wood floor of the wraparound porch and tucked her legs under herself. Her bare feet peeked out from the hem of black yoga pants, toes sporting bright red nail polish. After two years of being forced to wear pink, she couldn’t stand the sight of what was once her favorite color.
The knit sweater was itchy against her skin, but the feeling was nothing compared to the joy of picking out a different outfit every day. The sleeves were too long, but Valerie didn’t mind. Her fingertips—also painted red—were the only part of her hands that showed. The thick gray yarn provided the perfect buffer between her palms and the hot mug of steaming coffee wrapped in her hands.
She took another sip, admiring the rays of light that peeked through the dense forest surrounding the property as the sun hung low on the horizon. “I need to start a new life, but I’m scared.”
“You have every right to be scared. No one will blame you for that.”
Her spine had relaxed a smidge more when she nodded. “I just feel so trapped.” The wind picked up, lifting her dark brown hair from her shoulders and swirling the strands around her face. She smiled as she tucked the loose tendrils back behind her ears. “It’s so nice to be outside and feel the air on my skin.”
“Freedom must feel wonderful after being held captive for so long.”
Valerie shook her head. “This isn’t freedom. I’m still a prisoner here, even if the boundaries are wider. No, I won’t be
