Page 10 of Sinfully Mine

Nothing else made sense. I participated in enough of these FBI takedowns to know the pattern. After all, Agent Sims contacted me numerous times. Grace was probably enlisted to help catch dangerous criminals, but I didn’t like that one bit. She put herself in a position to be harmed or hunted whenever she turned on that webcam.

Why the fuck would she do that? What did they have on her?

I prided myself on being able to find anyone, anywhere, and at any moment of the day. My skills in the dark web helped locate missing women and children that wouldn’t be found otherwise. I saw the gut-wrenching horror of trafficking and its toll on those who had been taken. Long after they were rescued, many struggled with what had happened to them for years. Some never recovered.

I couldn’t allow Grace to place herself in a vulnerable position. She wouldn’t expose herself like that to those sick fuckers online anymore. I wouldn’t allow it.

If that meant I interfered, so be it.

Chapter 4 Grace

He watched me. Hunter kept the camera on, and he saw every naughty, sordid thing I did. Licking the sucker. Touching myself. Becoming the persona, Dolly.

But the worst? Watching me get off and calling out his name.

I couldn’t help but be attracted to that inked biker. He was sexy and flirty and treated me with kindness and respect. I never would have pegged him for a voyeur, and that was my mistake. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get offline that I didn’t properly shut down my camera after I logged off the game.

Skull Reaper was such a contradiction to his personality. Sure, all the dark ink and skulls on his body fit the Gamertag. I could see why he used it. But Hunter didn’t seem violent. Just the opposite. It’s what attracted me to him after I heard his deep, panty-melting voice.

And God, I loved his laugh. He made me smile every time I heard it. Why did he have to ruin everything?

I wasn’t sure what upset me more. The fact that he watched me and never said a word or that he never tried to get me to notice that the cam was still online, showing him everything.

Would I have wanted him to interrupt the show and expose the ruse? No. Definitely not. I hated doing those live cams to begin with, and it would have defeated the purpose of drawing out those sick “daddy kink” viewers that I worked so hard to expose. Some of them were harmless, only wanting to jerk off to the idea of being with a younger woman. But the others? They wanted to kidnap young girls and searched through those cams for a chance to find one vulnerable, desperate, and willing to meet in person.

That was why I became involved in this operation to take down the trafficking ring that had infiltrated the Las Vegas area.I wanted to help. One group in particular seemed to rise above the others, boldly snatching girls from age five to fifteen from malls, grocery stores, and even their homes. Just thinking of it pissed me off and made me feel sick. Bile almost rose in my throat.

I couldn’t risk this operation because I got lonely and wanted something real. For eighteen months, I played the part, worked at my tedious job in the medical building, and tried to make a connection between the missing girls and the clinic upstairs. It wasn’t a coincidence that most of them had been patients in this building. Or that two of the six OBGYNs had been the doctors overseeing those patients before they were taken.

We had to find the connection.

That was where I came in. My youthful appearance was one of the reasons I was chosen for this task force. I could pass for eighteen and without makeup, from a distance, possibly fifteen. I dressed in clothes that hugged my figure and styled my hair and makeup in the latest trends. I had to be believable in case I ran into any of the men who helped identify targets among the women visiting the clinic.

It was highly unlikely anyone higher up in the trafficking ring would visit the building, but that didn’t mean they didn’t send their scouts. I played my part. Probably too well.

And it didn’t gain me any additional information.

Until I received a call the day after I found Hunter watching me on the cam. One of the FBI contacts assigned to the task force, Agent Rickman, recognized one of my viewers from my webcam. An American with several arrests but no convictions and a close affiliation with Russian bratva. He’d been spotted recruiting young men to work for Nicolai Durov, who was believed to be the head of the trafficking ring. Agent Rickman was currently building a case against the American. I knew himas Tony Collins, but it was one of several aliases that he used often.

We couldn’t pin his current location down. It took months for Tony to show his face again after his last arrest, probably laying low until he figured the police were no longer watching him. Agent Rickman spotted Tony viewing my cam a week ago and interacting with the other men, encouraging them to act on their fantasies. We almost had him. But he logged off too quickly to trace his location. He was too smart for that.

Now, I tapped my fingers on my thigh, hoping that if Tony showed up, Agent Rickman would be ready. Nervous energy radiated throughout my body. I kept getting glances from my coworkers and hoped they didn’t suspect anything. Maybe I just appeared bored and ready to leave. It didn’t matter to me as long as they didn’t get in my way or cause problems that could hinder the investigation.

When the clock finally reached eight minutes to five p.m. I logged off the computer, grabbed my purse, and rushed toward the exit. Of all the jobs I’d ever had since I turned sixteen, this was one of the worst. I’d never been so bored in my life. I hated nearly every minute and couldn’t wait until I no longer had to show up here and pretend to be an employee.

Sure, it looked legit on paper, but anyone digging deep would see the inconsistencies and lack of information. Grace Smith didn’t exist eighteen months ago. She was entirely made up.

The lie wasn’t hard to sell to my coworkers or the patients who entered the building. The person I didn’t want to deceive was the one who never met the real me. And now, Hunter couldn’t.

I nearly reached the door when my supervisor called my name. “Yes?”

“We need to go over your performance appraisal.”

“Now?” Shit. Who forced their employees to stay after hours for something that could be accomplished during the shift? An asshole.

“Yes. I won’t be here the rest of the week.”

Well, fuck.

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