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“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

“She was just a girl.” He covered his mouth. His lips were numb. His fingers, numb. “She was just a girl. I didn’t know her. She was just some girl.”

“I know, Jay. I know.”

“Just a fucking girl.” His voice was thready, broken.

12

The walk down the long corridor that night was harrowing. Charlee’s body trembled with waves of nausea, made worse by her nudity.

The security staff had monitored her for two months. They’d seen her raped, beaten, and brought to her knees. But she hadn’t seen them, didn’t know who remained on the payroll from years earlier. She preferred faceless Craigs. Somehow, they seemed less real.

She followed the chain and the man holding it around the corner, through the massive den, and into the dining room.

The table seated ten. Two empty chairs waited. The men, all dressed in suits, stood when Roy pulled her through the archway.

She shifted behind him to hide her nudity then thought better of it. She stepped around him and stared right back, taking in each Craig, pausing on each face in turn. Salvador, new Craig, new Craig, familiar Craig…she locked on the last one and froze. Beneath the bushy beard and extra weight, she marked the Marine with eyes so much like Noah’s.

The room fell away. She grabbed the back of the chair, seeking support. Damn, damn, damn. What was he doing?

Undercover, remember? My involvement must remain low profile.

Shock tried to wheeze its way out. She swallowed, smothering it. How long had he been there, in the same building, a shout away? Was he on a job for a client or a rescue mission? How did he know where to find her?

She concentrated on leveling her breath. No way would she make it through dinner and dessert.Son of a bitch, the dessert.

As was Roy’s custom, he would command her to perform during tea and sweet bread. A way to make her vulnerable and test the loyalty of his team at the same time. He would force her to entertain them, emasculate them as they watched. As Nathan watched. No. No, she couldn’t.

Engulfed by an overwhelming need to puke, she felt her legs move, and sank into the chair Roy held out for her.

He took his seat beside her and slithered a palm over her thigh. “Good evening. As you can see, we have a special guest tonight. Say hello, Charlee.”

She coughed her hysteria into cupped hands and stared at her placemat. “Hello.”

“Don’t be nervous, beautiful girl. These are the men keeping you safe.”

Safe?She thrashed in the padded room of her mind while she smiled outwardly. “Yes, Sir.”

Seeing Nathan flooded her with memories of Noah until all she could think about was him bleeding out on her shop floor. Nathan held the answer to the question she’d ignored for two months. Just a jerk of his chin or a subtle shake, and she’d know.

Every face at the table volleyed leers and smirks at her. Every face but Nathan’s. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

A parade of white jackets moved around the room carrying platters of steaming dishes. Bowls of Miso soup were placed on the utensil-free table. The servers kept their eyes down. Well-trained and probably highly overpaid.

Two seats down, Nathan kept his eyes on Roy, who slurped from the rim of his bowl and prated on about surveillance and FBI investigations.Dammit, Nathan, look this way.

She coughed. She yawned. She feigned choking on fried eel. The conversation circled around security briefings, and Nathan didn’t spare her a passing glance.

Midway through the battered Tempura, she set down her water glass and spilled it in his direction. Finally, she snagged his eyes, and pleaded with hers.Is he alive?

His attention flicked back to Roy. “I have an update on the detective who’s been sniffing around for the girl.”

The detective? The girl?Shivers tore through her.

“Go ahead, Matthew.”

Matthew? Of course. Nathan was undercover.