Layers Deep (14 page)

The sorrow
revived lines of pain on Tristan’s face. It shattered my heart to
see him like that. I touched his chest. His heart beat in an aching
rhythm as if he blamed himself for her disappearance.

“I
understand.”

“These
auctions are an underground operation. It’s taken our whole unit to
break through. The girls you’ll see are sold to perverted and
wealthy men. They’re not only pimped every night before then, but
once they’ve gone through the clientele, they’re sold to a cartel
like cattle. Our intel says Kendra will be sold off privately at
one of the auctions. If she is, depending on who buys her, we may
lose her for good – and I can’t take that chance. Once you
recognize her, you’ll give me a sign and we’ll get her out.” The
tension in his cheeks was nothing like I’d seen before, on
anyone.

“You’ll be
there too?”

“I’ll be
nearby. We’ll work out the details. Don’t worry. You can bet I’ll
have a pulse on what’s going on, as if I was under your skin.”

The mysterious
look on his face surprised me. What could he mean by that?

“If these
bastards get spooked, they’ll change the location. It can take
months to infiltrate their circle. We’ve been lucky to get some
help from another private sector specializing in sex
trafficking.”

Tristan’s face
clouded with disgust. I imagined what the girls had gone through;
I’d certainly seen enough during my short time at the force. There
were streets in the city lined with minors. Women of all shapes and
sizes filled dark alleys. Most prostitutes didn’t think there was
another way to make money. They had no way out; at least they
thought so. Their pimps would threaten the women if information was
disclosed or if they didn’t bring in enough money. Most of what
they earned would be taken away. But what Tristan was talking about
was much worse: a cross between slavery and prostitution, sex
trafficking was a beast of its own.

“And if
everything goes well, you’re welcome to go back to the force; but
I’d much prefer if you stayed as part of the Cross team. It’s rare
for an employee of ours to leave, but we never keep anyone
back.”

I didn’t think
it would be possible now for me to work for anyone other than
Tristan Cross. Not only had his company offered a dream job, but
Tristan was there too. Which scared me a little. This thing between
us was probably a temporary fling; a way to relieve our desires and
extinguish the sexual tension. Simple girls like me didn’t get to
have a forever man like Tristan Cross, did they? How could I work
for Tristan once we had rescued Kendra? I couldn’t just keep
sleeping with the boss. Once the job was done, we were done, and
I’d doubtless get an assignment much lower on the corporate ladder
to keep our distance.

“If everything
goes well?”

“There’s a
possibility you’ll be in witness protection if we don’t get
Martinez.”

Shit!
That, I hadn’t counted on.

“But I’ll make
sure you’re well compensated if that happens.”

I sat up with
my back straight. What that meant was no more work either in the
force or as an undercover investigator. My career would be
finished. And, no more Tristan Cross. That was part of the
deal.

“And I can
assume you have a team ready to capture Martinez?”

“Yes.” His
mouth curved up by a fraction. “See, that’s why you’re so perfect
for this job, Allie. You’re always one step ahead.”

A firm knock
on the front door startled me.

“Aha!” Tristan
jumped off the stool and rushed through the hall to the door.

“You don’t ask
who it is?”

“I already
know who it is. No one comes here unannounced.” He opened the door
wide, grinning.

“Set it all in
the living room.”

An entourage
of more than twenty people marched into the penthouse. I crossed my
arms at my front, feeling as awkward as that person about to make a
speech who pictures the audience naked, perhaps in their socks:
except they’re really naked. I tightened my bathrobe belt while the
crew paraded in, one after another. They set the boxes and bags
they’d carried by the couch in the main living room beside the
kitchen. Two men pushed a cart with a bar holding hangers of
clothes, all nicely concealed under white covers. No one looked my
way, concentrating on the job at hand.

Like a row of
working ants, they followed one another out and disappeared behind
the door.

“Is someone
moving in?” I asked, biting my lip.

“You. Got you
some clothes. I hope you don’t mind. This way you don’t need to go
back to your apartment. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you stayed
with me here.”

“You really
want me to move in, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but feel giddy all
over again, like a stupid school girl.

The driveway
weaved three curves past the main gate. Oak trees lined the way on
each side of the paved entrance, the width of each one spanning
more than six arm-lengths. Surveillance cameras marked every lamp
post. I rolled down the window just a little. The terrain was
neatly kept with landscaping groomed better than the best golf
courses I’d seen. A ride-on mower was parked just off the garage.
Warm wind tussled my hair, and the smell of fresh grass mixed with
a fragrant bouquet of over-bloomed roses filled the car. It was the
same smell I’d imagined on Tristan when he’d first walked into
Mike’s bar.

As soon as
Tristan parked the Bentley, two Rottweilers ran out from behind the
garage toward the car, sat down in front of the hood, and waited
patiently. Their tongues stuck out, fresh slobber dripping down to
the ground. Tristan opened the door and stepped out with
confidence—I remained seated, wearing my comfortable, un-ripped
jeans and shirt, focused completely on the dogs.

If there was
anything I knew about dogs from my work, it was that you couldn’t
trust them unless you knew them.

“They’re
friendly,” Tristan said.

Or unless
someone you trust tells you they’re friendly.

Both dogs
wagged their tails, sending dust up in the air. I opened the door
and Tristan lost their attention. Besides, they’d already gotten a
chance to slobber all over him.

“Pebbles,
Bamm-Bamm, sit,” he ordered.

“Seriously?” I
walked around the car to his side. The dogs waited for Tristan’s
next instruction, their tongues hanging at the side of their
mouths.

He scratched
behind their ears, one hand on each. “My little sister named them.
It was a deal so we could get the Rotties instead of poodles.”

I stepped
closer, stretching my hand out front. Both looked to Tristan first,
then approached, sniffed my palm, and licked it. Their smooth
tongues tickled and reminded me of when Millie, our chocolate Lab,
had knocked me down to the ground after school and licked my face.
I wished Mom hadn’t given her away to a neighbor before we moved. I
cried a lot that year.

I crouched
lower. That was a mistake. Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm became too
friendly. One pushed its nose right in between my legs and the
other one walked behind me, jumped on my back, and humped away. Why
was it that dogs always went for the crotch sniffing, or to your
leg to hump? Except at this moment I’d prefer the leg over my
back.

Tristan stood
there laughing. If he crossed his legs like a girl needing to pee
I’d have to rethink our partnership. And, he seemed in no hurry to
help me. I made a mental note of his lack of concern for animals
taking advantage of me to time my perfect revenge.

“Pebbles,
Bamm-Bamm, get off!” A young girl’s voice called to my new body
snatchers.

“Thanks,
Cross.” I stood up brushing the dirt off my jeans.

“Ah, come on.
It was funny.” He came to my side, wrapping his arm around my
waist. By that time, the “gossip girl” pre-teen stood in front of
us with one dog at each side. She looked like she was ready to step
onto a movie set. The genes in the Cross family were definitely
movie-star quality.

“This is my
little sister, Emma.”

Everything
inside me crunched into a tight ball. A rush of guilt, fear, loss,
and sorrow combined into one flew through me as if it were that day
all over again. The day I’d lost my sister. I remembered her grave,
the wreath of daisies, and the grief. Oh, God, how much it hurt and
how much I wished my little Emma was here with me! Was this meant
to be? Had my sister somehow re-incarnated in the body of Tristan’s
sister? Did Tristan even know he had everything I’d lost?

And then she
smiled. Oh, what a lovely and cute and adorable smile she had! Now
Emma was more like a country singer-meets-NY type of a girl, with
the charms and looks of a big city and the heart of the entire
country. I got all that in one simple smile. She must have gone
through a growth spurt too, because Emma was almost as tall as me.
She held a tablet under her arm.

“Hi, Emma. I’m
Allie. What are you reading?” I asked, shaking off the weird déjà
vu.

“Nothing yet.
I’m searching through the best-sellers.”

“You know,
there are hidden gems lower down the charts too.”

“Thanks. I
follow this blogger who reviews the best books ever. It’s nice to
meet you, Allie.” She pulled out her hand like an adult and I shook
it. The gentle breeze fluttered her hair. A brown streak, a single
lowlight among the blonde strands, tickled her face, and she tucked
it behind her ear.

“Are you two
dating?” She pointed between me and Tristan. And the adult part of
her personality totally disappeared. “My brothers never bring
anyone home. They say it’s for my own good and that I should hang
out with kids my age. But kids my age are boring. I put a spy
camera on Tristan’s tie once, but the connection on my phone didn’t
work and when it finally did Tristan spilled some cream off a
dessert so I couldn’t see anything, but I heard a girl say she’d
love to see his...”

“... I think
that’s enough, Emma!” He lowered his gaze to his phone saying,
“Excuse me for a moment.”

And with that,
Emma was on a roll again. She took my hand and led me toward the
white mansion.

“I was gonna
say, his Bentley collection. I’m not as stupid as he thinks. Are
you two going on a date? My mom says she’ll do your hair, and I
really want to help if you’ll let me. Pleeaassseee.”

I looked over
to Tristan, begging him with my eyes for help, but he seemed lost
in a conversation, following us up the steps. I hadn’t even met
Mrs. Cross yet, had been told my hair would be changed, and still,
Emma absolutely captivated me. Would my little sister have been as
perky and heart-warming, with the personality of a dozen teens
mixed into one? I nodded to the ‘pleeaassseee,’ fearing she’d run
out of air soon.

“Yay! Finally
the curse is broken. When I trimmed Tristan’s hair and gave him
highlights, I made a mistake with the color. But the purple washed
away quickly. I don’t know why he insisted on working from home for
a month. It made him look cool and hip.” She pushed the front door
open, taking a deep breath. I knew this only meant she was getting
ready for another long sentence.

Tristan,
engrossed in a conversation, sat down on the highest step outside
and motioned with his hand for me to go on with Emma. She led me
through the grand hall, and just before I asked where we were
going, she continued.

“Tristan finds
dark-haired women hotter than the blondes. So does Julian. I don’t
know why. I think blondes have more fun, don’t you?” She let go of
my hand and took a strand of my hair between her fingers. “Well,
take my word for it. If you stay here, you can sleep over. You can
use my room. I don’t mind sharing. Tristan and Julian never share
their rooms with girls—sometimes they suck that way.”

We stood there
in the hall, one in front of the other and I smiled. Emma was doing
all the talking, and I loved listening to her. I adored her little
mouth that wouldn’t close. I didn’t notice when we sat down on the
lowest stair of the Scarlett O’Hara staircase. She absolutely
mesmerized me.

“But they’re
the best brothers ever because they let me play with their gadgets
all the time. Because I can keep a secret.”

Should I have
started doubting Emma? How in the world could her mouth ever hold a
secret?

She froze with
her mouth open and leaned over to me, lowering her voice. “I want
to be an aunt, and I can’t be an aunt until one of them marries and
has a baby. If you marry Tristan, you could be my sister-in-law.”
Her eyes nearly doubled in size and so did mine. She looked around
the room conspicuously and leaned in again to whisper, this time
right into my ear. “Tristan loves black lingerie. Women think he
likes red, but he really loves black.”

And with one
wink and a straight face, she made it seem like our marriage
arrangement was a done deal.

I felt my
cheeks heat. “Tristan’s just my...”

“...boyfriend,” he filled in, standing at the doorway. The sun
behind him outlined his manly posture, and it glowed like a halo
all around his body. He closed the door and pulled out a little box
from his pocket, saying, “I’ve got something for you, Emma.”

She ran over,
grabbed the box, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him tightly,
almost knocking him down. “You’re the best brother ever!”

Then she
jumped down, turned to wink at me again (now that we shared the
secrets of my arranged marriage and Tristan’s lingerie
preferences), and ran off screaming, “Mom! Tristan’s dating! And
she’s cute and she’s gonna be my aunt!”

I couldn’t
hold on any longer and burst out laughing. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen.”

The blood in
my cheeks must have drained. This was my Emma. No matter what my
future held and what happened between me and Tristan, I’d make sure
this little girl remained in my life forever.