Quickly towel drying her hair, Meredith wrapped her white terry robe around her and opened the door. Travis was seated in the teal upholstered chair next to the window seat, a laptop opened in front of him.
He looked up as she entered. His face was cautious as he studied her. “You’re sure you’re doing okay?”
“Considering everything we’ve been through tonight and that I still don’t know where the hell my daughter is, I would say I’m doing pretty well.”
She crossed the room and perched on the end of the window seat. Now that the numbness had finally worn off, she had questions. Lots of questions, but first she started with the most important one. “Do you think Darcy’s okay?”
He nodded, and for the first time she noticed the bruise swelling under his eye, the raw and puffy knuckles on his right hand. The dark shadows under his eyes. “From what I gather, she’s too valuable to risk any injury. She should be safe—at least until this sale.”
She stared at her toes, the dark fuchsia paint that was chipped in a few areas. Travis had already explained to her about the so-called sale, or auction, that was coming up tomorrow—or tonight, she supposed was more accurate, since it was already, technically, early Saturday morning. And that the only reason they hadn’t found Darcy downstairs with the others likely had something to do with the fact she was inexperienced. A virgin.
Thanks to men like those the police had hauled away tonight—either to the police station or under police escort to the hospital—and kids like Matt and countless others, young girls were treated like nothing more than property. Like animals.
“I could kill that kid. And every one of them.” She thought about how the moment she’d entered the club, she’d felt like a piece of meat. Watched. “And that club we went to? It wasn’t much better. Tonight, upstairs, there was a guy near the back in a black suit. Gave me the creeps. The way he watched me was unnerving.”
Travis nodded. “His name’s Ayman. He’s involved, but from what Matt explained, he isn’t in charge. We’ll have to see what Meems uncovers for us in the morning. Maybe a name or a corporation. Something. Because those guys already told me everything they know, I’m sure of it.”#p#分页标题#e#
In the morning. If she could sleep, that was.
“There’s something more I need to tell you, Mer. Something one of the guys confessed.”
He set the laptop down on the ottoman and leaned forward to face her.
It must have been the fatigue that was breaking down her usual resolve not to look at him too closely over the past couple of days. Knowing that feeling anything more than tolerance for him was dangerous and would only lead to pain when he, like everyone else, walked out of her life.
Because right now…she was almost hypnotized, unable to help but appreciate the defined six-pack so visible even through that shirt, the strong lines of his shoulders and arms, his hands he flexed and then flinched, undoubtedly because of the ripped, bloody skin on his knuckles.
“You should get ice on that.” He didn’t answer, and she looked into those deep green eyes, watching her so oddly. “On your hand. And…” Unable to stop herself, she touched the swollen area under his eye. He flinched again but didn’t move away. “Does this hurt?”
He still didn’t respond, just studied her with those green eyes with the specks of brown that now seemed softer, somehow. She couldn’t look away as much as she tried. Drawn to this one man despite knowing she was the last person he’d ever want to be with. The last person she should want to be with.
And yet, he was the only one she wanted.
She’d already risked so much tonight, what was one more thing…
She moved closer, watching the dawning on his face as he processed what she was about to do, and she held her breath as she waited for him to turn away in rejection. Only he didn’t, and she brushed her lips against his, sending that same tingling coursing through her body, her every nerve.
Salty. He tasted salty, but it was wonderful, and she sensed him tensing, maybe considering pulling away, but just as quickly he was leaning forward, bringing her to his lap. Cradling her face with his hand as he deepened the kiss. His smell so masculine, so…Travis…surrounding her.
No one was watching them now. They were completely alone, and she was aware of his hand in her robe, grazing the skin with his palm until he reached her breast. She sucked her breath in, savoring the sensation. She moved closer.
Needing his touch. And so much more.
…
Somewhere in the back of his brain, Travis knew that what they were doing was a mistake. That anything more than a business relationship with the homecoming queen was suicidal. But she was so soft, smelled so fresh and sweet and feminine, her body so quick to respond to the slightest touch that he was helpless to stop.