Chapter Twenty-One

Lacy’s incoming pinged. Tapping the handy dandy blue icon on her cell, she brought up a text message from Jake with 5 separate .jpg attachments.

Whew. About time. She stopped on the sidewalk just outside the Starbuck’s exit. Her heart stopped pounding out of control. If he was texting, he was safe. She dialed and gave him one last chance. “You’d better pick up this time and talk to me,” she muttered into her phone, her eyes on the dangerous predicaments Jake and Jamaal were in instead of where she was going. She turned and ran smack into a very hard male chest.

“Sorry,” she muttered, aggravated this guy had been standing so close and that he hadn’t gotten out of her way. The moron. He’d almost made her drop her one and only link with Jake. The guy didn’t even have a cup of coffee in his hand. She glanced up to give him hell for not minding his own business. Damn, but he was a tall guy. And big. Broad shoulders blocked her view of the door.

Her eyeballs kept scrolling upward and her chin kept lifting. Over a black polo shirt beneath a leather jacket. On up and over an Adam’s apple in a thick neck. Then a scruff of a beard, and finally, into the blackest pair of mean brown eyes she’d seen in a long time.

Whoever this guy thought he was, he had the nerve to glare down at her. His head was bare, except for more scruff. The hostility radiating off him stopped her cold, and if her instincts were right, he was ex-military down to his boots.

“Do you mind?” she asked. I don’t have time for this. Move it or lose it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as his gloved hand clenched down hard on her forearm. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not. Let me go,” Lacy growled, jerking her elbow away from the behemoth. Whoever this jerk was, he palmed the door behind her and had her on the sidewalk almost before she could stow her phone in her pocket. Dragging her away from Starbucks, he headed in the opposite direction of Poindexter’s building. For every single step he took, she had to take three just to keep up. Like she had a choice the way he was dragging her.

Not once did he give her a chance to ask questions or explain. Who does this to a woman in broad daylight anyway? Only a rapist or a perv.

“I said no!” She screamed as she jerked away from him again, but he just kept walking and dragging, like he had a right. The ass!

“Let me go!” she shrieked, leaning backward to counterbalance his pull. No such luck. All she succeeded in doing was scraping her soles on the sidewalk while he dragged her forward. He wasn’t hurting her, just scared the daylights out of her.

The guy was all power and too damned much nerve! When he ducked around the corner of the Starbucks, she went limp to the ground. He slowed down for all of the two seconds it took him to lift her up by one arm and drape her over his shoulder like a ragdoll. She came back to life, kicking, punching and screaming. He growled, but not once did his massive paw move from the cheeks of her ass where he held her in place.

The last straw! Now she was scared. She screamed one last ear-piercing demand for help. Where the hell was everyone. Didn’t anyone care?

Too late! He swung her off his shoulder and dragged her up into his face until they were nose to nose. Those black mean eyes skewered her into silence. She froze. Holy shit, this guy was wicked strong. His breath smelled like cinnamon.

“Listen,” he hissed. “I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to save your life. I’ve got two men in trouble, maybe three. Don’t force me to fuckin’ knock you out cold.”

She gulped so loud even she could hear it. “Let me go,” she pleaded, instantly mad at herself for sounding weak. A damned tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t mean that either, but the brute choking the life out of her collar saw it. His demeanor softened. He set her back to her feet, but he still held her tight enough she couldn’t escape.

“You’ve got no business being here. Why are you watching Rafael Poindexter this morning? Why today? Tell me.” He gave her a gentle shake.

Lacy wilted. This guy made three of her. All the worst things that could happen to a defenseless woman ran through her mind. Too bad she wasn’t defenseless. She jerked her knee up and—bingo. Just like that, Mr. Big Shot let her go. Down he went, knees to the pavement and the most awful groan roaring out of his mouth. How’s it feel, tough guy?

He rolled to his side and into a fetal curl, his eyes squeezed tight and his palms over what used to be his family jewels. Well, they were purple family jewels now. Maybe black, blue AND purple.

“You’re not so tough now, are you?” she hissed, her fist clenched to knock him down again if he even thought for one second that he was brave enough to get back up.

“Lacy,” he gasped.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “What’d you just call me?”

He squinted up at her out of one eye, one really dark brown eye that shimmered like it might have a tear in it. “Lacy Wright. Shit. I’m Zack Lennox, Jake’s friend. He called me earlier.”

“Oh, my hell!” she squealed. “You’re Jake’s friend, and I just kicked you in the—I’m sorry! Let me help you up. Oh, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head. “No. It’s all right. I should’ve—”

“Yes. You should have told me who you were before you grabbed me. I might be small but I’m no pansy-assed soldier.” She offered her hand to pull him to his feet. “But I really am sorry. Are you okay?”

That one dark eye squinted up at her like he thought there was no way she could help him get to his feet. She latched hold of his elbow to prove him wrong. He might be a big guy, but she’d helped bigger and scarier. If she could get Jamaal up two flights of stairs and into her apartment, she could surely get this Zack guy to his knees. Maybe.

Ah, the poor guy. He winced, but he accepted the offer and let her help him. Male pride kicked in about then and he shrugged her off and stood all by himself, maybe not as straight as usual, but he was on his feet.

“I am so sorry,” she explained, “but you scared me. I couldn’t just let you drag me away and rape me and burn my body now, could I?”

He shot her a quizzical look. “No, it’s my fault. I had to get you out of Starbucks before Poindexter’s men got you, too.”

“Where’s Jake?” she asked, her need to apologize forgotten. “Do you know?”

“We suspect Poindexter’s got him two floors down,” Zack muttered, his hands to his knees and still breathing heavy. “If he’s still alive.”

“Still alive? What’s going on?”

Zack took a deep breath and blew it out very slowly before he answered. “I’ve been watching some jerk named Manny Prentiss for eleven days now. Rafe Poindexter’s name keeps popping up. I wanted to know why.”

“Prentiss is the pig who’s selling girls from Cambodia to Rafe,” Lacy declared. “That’s why. They’re both into something called the virgin trade.”

Zack looked at her closely. “Do you know that for a fact?”

She nodded excitedly, sticking her burner phone in his face. At that precise moment, it pinged with another text. “Yes. I have all the evidence we need to put him and Poindexter away for life. And Jake’s alive. He just sent me another text. See.”

Zack clamped his palm over his chest pocket and lifted his own vibrating cell phone out. “Looks like Jake’s a busy guy,” he said when he looked at the notification. “He just sent me a text, too.”

He nodded his chin toward a black SUV, the same SUV she’d seen parked outside her apartment only a day earlier. “Let’s get out of sight.”

“You’re the one who’s been following me,” she said, not asked. “That was you at my parking stall yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“Not exactly,” Zack answered slowly as he moved stiffly to the SUV. “Get in. I’ll explain.” He opened the passenger door and offered a small flourish for her to enter.

“I really am sorry,” she murmured as she brushed past his bruised ego on her way inside.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he shut the door.