Page 84 of The Truths that Deceive

I casually toss the card he gave me on the table. Lonnie Jenkins. Specialized Security. And then there’s a number.

“Maybe.” Calista doesn’t touch it. “He could be good.”

For a moment, the world shakes, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. With numb fingers, I stub out the cigarette. Is she…didshe?

But I catch the betrayal and doubt and hope on her face. There’s not any indication of a broken or crushed heart. She wasn’t ever into him. No, she’s upset because she thinks maybe she was taken for a ride.

I don’t know if she was. The man’s good. Slick. Talented. And I can see them letting her cut teeth with an experienced agent because that’s what her fucking Johnny CIA is. He’s experienced and probably doesn’t even need a handler.

I touch her shoulder as the music comes to a crescendo, and she shudders, rubbing into the small caress like a pet curling into her master.

I’m a hunter, not a man looking for a pet, human or otherwise. And then I smile. I suspect she’d gut me for thinking that.

“Whatever he’s up to, I’ll find out.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Curiosity. I want to help. Take your pick. Iwillneed you to hand over what you have.”

“I can’t do that.”

She can’t, but she will. I know that. She’s lost, scared, and wants something to cling to, to trust, and in her eyes the CIA isn’t about to help. But maybe I can. Even if she’s exonerated of whatever they think she did, her career there is dead in the water.

That’s the best-case scenario.

Suddenly, the real reason we’re here hits me hard—it was meant to be a detour to get her talking. In here, we have privacy and discretion. It’s a safety net for her and she needs that if she’s going to open up to me.

And I need her to. One thing I didn’t expect from her agent was to get questions about sex trafficking in a club that has a reputation of high-end girls working voluntarily.

“Were you investigating trafficking?”

She goes too still, like she did when I asked about it the last time.

“The Collectors isn’t a name thrown around,” I add.

“I’m not sure about exactly everything they do, and no, we weren’t investigating them. I didn’t work in the trafficking areas.”

I push. “What about Estonia?”

“I thought you read my file?”

“Most was redacted. Humor me.”

She opens and closes her mouth, shifts, and I bring a hand down to rest on her thigh to settle her.

“You want to know why I’m interested?” I ask.

She wants to get beneath my layers so I’m going to let her in. Even deeper than I have before. And fuck, I hate that I’m doing it, that I’m exposing myself, but she needs to hear it.

To trust me.

“My kid, Dakota, pretty much hates me. I got someone to raise her after her grandparents died, a man named Alejandro.She thinks of him as my friend, but the truth is, I handpicked him to protect her. He’s got a daughter her age, and they both lived with him in New York.”

My lips twist for this next part.

“Dakota came to Miami for a cruise and fell in with the wrong crowd. She caught the eye of a Collector and was kidnapped. They had her marked for use and abuse. Terrible things, fucking horrible things.”

She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God…”

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