Chapter Eleven

Dev had barely inhaled her breakfast when her heavy-footed brother sounded at the kitchen door. Scottie stuffed his last bite into his already full mouth and asked, “Should I go to my room now?”

“No, but let’s get out of Uncle Cord’s way. Come stand with me. Once everybody’s inside, you can run get the blankets.”

“Yes, Mom,” he said, his tone serious as Cord dragged a blonde woman barely able to walk into the kitchen.

“How’s my main man?” he asked Scottie as he took her into the front room. Seven more young women trailed past Dev, all Caucasian, some limping, some helping another, but every last one of them deathly quiet and sticking close to Cord. The last, a teenager with straggly red hair that hung to her butt in dirty tangles, closed the door quietly behind her and turned to face Dev. “Umm, hi,” she said in a tiny voice.

This was where Dev shined. “Hi,” she said quietly, one hand extended, the other clamped onto Scottie’s shoulder. “I’m Devereaux Shepherd and this is my home, but you can call me Dev. All my friends do. Can I get you something to eat? A drink?” A hug, you poor, poor thing?

Frightened green eyes shimmered at her. “Yes, please,” she whispered, her gaze darting past Dev to the group huddled in the other room. “I’m Rhonda Malevich, and I’m from Brooklyn, and I… and I…”

This was the moment most rescued women realized they were finally out of Montego’s clutches and fell apart. Rhonda was no different. When tears brimmed to overflowing, Dev set Scottie to her side and held out both arms. Rhonda sucked in a sob and ran into Dev, burying her face in her neck and whining, “I want to go home… Please... I just want to go h-home. I want my mom and my dad and... pleasssssssssse.”

Scottie whined as well, his little hand gripping the corner of Dev’s shirt. Sad people always made him cry.

Dev held the girl as tightly as she dared. It wasn’t much, and Dev always wished she could do more, but right now and for Rhonda, being held was everything. Some of the victims of this awful industry were too traumatized to tolerate touch once they were finally rescued, but Rhonda seemed to crave it.

Dev smoothed one hand over the girl’s wet head and murmured, “I’ll bet you haven’t eaten anything worthwhile in days. Let’s get some soup and a sandwich or two into your stomach, and you’ll see. You’ll start to feel better. Who are your friends in there?”

Rhonda sniffed. “The big guy’s Cord, but Seth’s the one I like. He’s not here yet. He was behind us a bit with the little girls. He’s sure handsome, huh?”

A smile tweaked her lips as Dev peered over Rhonda’s head to Cord in the other room. Of course this poor shivering teenager assumed she’d meant the guys. Rhonda would probably crush on both of her saviors for a long time after this night, and that was fine by Dev. She knew what it meant to be rescued, and how beloved that single rescuer would always be. That handsome, bossy, arrogant jarhead in there, the big guy kneeling over the blonde on the couch and running the back of his hand over her forehead, was her favorite crush. What little sister didn’t love her big brother, the one who’d rescued her from the same life these women had been headed for, with all her heart and soul?

As for Seth? Speak of the devil. He’d just angled his big wide body through the kitchen door, his arms full of two little girls with big brown eyes, both clinging to his neck like sad little orangutans. He nodded at Dev, but said to her son, “Hi there, big guy. You must be Scottie. Good to meet you.”

The twinkle in Seth’s eye had been diminished by what he’d probably seen on this rescue, but this was the first time Dev noticed that the tint of those eyes matched the clear, warm color of whiskey on ice. Startlingly clear. Like well water that ran deep and true.

Dev clutched Scottie’s shoulders, bringing him in front of her before she forgot herself and tripped into Seth. “Scottie, this is my friend, Seth McCray. George McCray is his uncle, and he’s here to help us. He’ll be staying a while.”

Scottie’s head came up. “You know George? He and Gru’s my best friends.”

Dev winced as her gaze connected with Seth’s over the top of her son’s head. She still had to explain George’s stroke and now Gru’s death to her son, though she’d never divulge the gruesome details.

Seth must’ve noticed. “Why don’t you and me play ball when this is over? You do own a baseball and mitt, don’t you?”

“Course I do,” Scottie crowed. Tipping his head to the side, he peered up at Dev. “Can I, Mom? Is it okay if I catch some flies with Seth?” He was proud of the baseball phrase he’d learned watching the World Series.

She tousled his soft, blond hair. “With Seth, yes, but keep inside the backyard. Maybe I’ll come out and play, too.”

That did the trick. A grin split his cute little face, and off Scottie went to get those important blankets. Dev thanked Seth with her eyes as she went to assist her houseguests.

Seth took a seat on the floor and leaned against one end of the couch, still holding the little girls who looked like they had no intention of letting him go. His eyes kept track of her as she came and went. Just knowing that he watched, gave Dev an added bounce to her step.

The women were quiet, all seated on the floor or the fold-up chairs that Dev had bought, one by one, when she could afford it, from the Bargain Basement over on Palm Street. Scottie ran back and forth, dragging more blankets and helping Dev distribute them. One woman faced the corner and sobbed quietly. A couple whispered thank you and gracias, but most just stared and waited.

Cord looked uptight. Worried. He hadn’t left the blonde’s side.

Trish finally showed up with her first-aid kit and promptly knelt with him. “She needs a doctor, Cord. I can only do so much.”

“Then call your friend,” he bit out. “But no hospital. Not yet.”

More words Dev couldn’t hear were exchanged, until Cord lifted to his feet and walked away, but something was up. This woman was different. Who was she and why did Cord look so—guarded? The man glowed like a nuclear reactor about to implode.

Dev honestly didn’t have time to worry about that, so she filed it away for later. For now, she had a room full of people to feed, more sandwiches to make, and all before she left for work. Seth shot her a handsome wink as she headed for her kitchen. What a way to start the day.

Seth had to give Devereaux and her brother credit. They seemed to know what they were doing and how to comfort a house full of strangers. Even Scottie ran, first to get more blankets, then waiting on ‘the ladies’—as he called them—retrieving bottles of water or one more sandwich, por favor. Not once had he whined or complained that he’d rather go outside and play.

The poor women were hungry, and more than a couple showed definite signs of hysteria and traumatic stress. Seth understood those things, so once the twins fell asleep on the blanket he’d arranged on the floor for them, he went quietly from woman to woman, being careful not to touch them and keeping his voice low. Making no sudden moves. Just asking if they were warm enough, or if they needed one of the generic OTC medications Devereaux had on hand. Over and over, he assured each woman that he’d gladly get whatever they needed. All they had to do was ask. He was there to serve.

Another man with a large black bag and a backpack slung over his shoulder showed up within the hour. A doctor. The stethoscope dangling around his neck gave him away. Cord hustled him off to where he’d moved the blonde with a terse, “Right this way.”

Done with her cursory examination of the other women, Trish followed Cord down the hall. It was nearly two hours later when he escorted his doctor friend to Devereaux’s front door with a muttered, “I’ll be in touch.”

“See that you are,” the doctor told him. “This damage is serious.”

When the kind people from Family Services arrived just after noon, the little girls were still sound asleep. Cora Blair led the way, her sidekick, a tall, mousy woman with Harry Potter spectacles, on her six. Both women took over with ease, and for that Seth was glad. Most likely, he’d never see these poor women again, but knowing they would be in capable hands helped.

He’d watched Devereaux interact with them, and everything she did, she’d done with extreme gentleness. In fact, she seemed perfect for this task, much like the respectful flight attendant he remembered from years ago. Not once had she mentioned how hard she’d worked to make all the sandwiches that disappeared like candy when the women arrived. No sir. She just kept making more sandwiches, emptying her cupboards, and serving her house full of sad strangers.

Her generous nature tugged his heartstrings. Devereaux might have a mountain of problems nipping at her heels, and for certain she lived on a shoestring, yet here she was, a smile on her face while these women ate her out of house and home.

“Ladies,” Cora called out. She and her assistant stood ready at the door. “The bus is waiting. Shall we go?”

Wearily, the women lifted to their feet and followed her. But saying goodbye to two sleepy girls? Damned hard. Seth had promised their father he’d personally take care of them, but that wasn’t possible, neither was it encouraged. He knelt on the floor. Both girls snuggled into him like they had nothing more to worry about, and of course, his arms circled them just like he’d done on his uncle’s dock. Emma blinked those pretty eyes up at him, and his heart got stuck in his throat.

“Your daddy’s got my phone number,” he told her to soften the pain in his chest, “and once you get home, you call me anytime you want. Day or night. I’ll always be there for you girls.”

Her bottom lip stuck out. Maddie buried her face in his shirt, hiccupping and scared again. He was sad too, but for them, not himself. While they’d been kidnapped, and heaven knew what else, he’d been stuck in a never-ending pity party, lost between booze and depression. Well, no more.

He lifted those little angels with him as he got to his feet. “You be brave, Emma and Maddie Ward, because you’re soldiers now, just like me. You’re going home to your mommy and daddy, and once you hug and kiss them and cry all over them, you tell them that you’re stronger than those bad guys that took you. Tell your parents that you’re the winner because you’re alive and you’re free. Can you do that for me?”

Emma’s head bobbed against his neck, and hell. Seth knew he was probably talking over their heads, but he needed to instill a sense of victory in these little waifs before he gave them up. They were strong. They would be okay. They just had to be smarter than him and keep on keeping on. They had to believe in themselves.

Out of the blue, Maddie circled his neck and squeezed. “You’re gonna be okay, too,” she whispered. “I’ll tell Mommy and Daddy what you said.”

Out of the mouths of babes. Seth gave the girls one last heartfelt hug, and just in time, Miss Spectacles stepped up and relieved him of Emma, while Cora Blair secured Maddie under her arm. The girls didn’t take their eyes off him until they were out the door and safely sequestered in the rear of the van with another social worker.

Struggling with yet another loss, Seth followed along with Devereaux and Scottie. They paused at the walk just short of the curb where the Family Services bus parked, its doors opened wide to receive its passengers. He couldn’t see the twins, and that was just as well. They didn’t need another emotional farewell any more than he did.

Rhonda Malevich gave Devereaux a tiny wave when she set foot on the lowest step. Then they were gone in a puff of diesel fumes. All except for the woman Cord had secreted in one of Devereaux’s bedrooms.

“What’s up with your brother?” Seth asked as he escorted Devereaux back inside.

“Uncle Cord’s got another girlfriend,” Scottie drawled.

“Hush, Scottie. That’s not nice,” Devereaux scolded.

“So, who is she and why’s she still here?” Seth had to know.

Devereaux shrugged. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”