Page 86 of Exposed

Back in the living room, my phone rings. I hurry to get it, and Pepper hands it to me.

“Unknown number” flashes on the screen.

“Hello?” I ask cautiously.

“Little Women,” a woman's voice with a British accent answers.

That’s my call name on the hacker chat boards. It’s my mom’s favorite book, and it gives good anonymity.

“Who is this?” I demand.

“Your fairy godmother,” comes a sarcastic reply in a Scottish accent.

What the hell?

“Did you or did you not request Merrit to contact you?” She asks.

“I did.”

“Communication only happens through burner phones, so get a prepaid one for our next chat and pay in cash. Never use real names. Call me when you get a phone.”

She rattles off a phone number, and I jot it down.

“Got it. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I don’t like being told what to do by a stranger, but I’m in way over my head here and need someone with expertise.

“That was Merrit?” Pepper asks.

“Yeah. We’ll get one first thing in the morning. She doesn’t want a digital trail. Seems like she’s smarter than Rick28,” I note.

“I hope so,” she yawns.

“Let’s get you to bed, sleeping beauty.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Sleep with me tonight.”

We’ve slept in the same bed several times, but I always feel guilty because Simon is in my room. If he wakes up, it wakes all of us up, and I want Pepper to rest.

“Simon might wake you in the middle of the night, but I want you near me.” I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “I was terrified today when you said you were being followed. I need to be near you and Simon.”

There’s a softness in her eyes, her real brown eyes. She doesn’t wear her contacts with me at night, and I love that I get to see another glimpse of the real girl I’m falling in love with.

“I’ll sleep better if I’m with you and Simon tonight,” she whispers, like she’s afraid to admit she wants to be with me.

Once we’re laying in bed, she turns to me and rests her hand on my chest and looks into my eyes. Her brown orbsare soulful and hold a lifetime of experiences in them for the short amount of time she’s lived.

“Jasmine,” she says softly.

“What?” I ask.

“My real name. Don’t tell anyone, but you can call me by it when it’s just us and Simon.”

My breath is stolen from my lungs. It’s beautiful like her. And she trusts me enough to tell me something else real about her.

“Jasmine. Like the princess,” I thread my fingers through her hair.

“Except we’re reversed. I’m the one that was on the streets, and you’re the rich guy,” she says dryly.

“Nah. You’re a princess, Jasmine. I like your name.”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” she implores.

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