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I leaned back and dragged a hand through my hair. “Six weeks after she went missing, her body washed up on a beach in Saint Tropez.” The rising knot in my throat persisted.Fuck. Those memories were still so raw. I’d been through horrific shit in the military, but it was nothing compared to the nightmare of losing my sister.

“I’m so sorry, Brandon.” Sage shook her head. “I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been.”

Yes, you can, I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded and remained silent, providing Sage the perfect opportunity to chime in with her own tragedy.

Crickets.

This woman was so brave in many ways, just not this one. Her reluctance to talk about the drive-by was beginning to concern me. I was no psychiatrist, but this seemed like more than avoiding talking about painful memories. Was she still in love with her dead boyfriend? Had I completely misread her attraction to me? Granted, it’d been a while since I’d flirted with a woman, but I’d never beenthatwrong before.

Maybe she suffered from survivor’s guilt? I’d seen enough of that in the military. Hell, I’d experienced it myself. If she felt it was unfair that she was alive and her boyfriend wasn’t, or was ashamed of having feelings for me, I could understand that, even if it was unwarranted. The mind was a complicated beast and conjured wretched thoughts while tainted with grief.

The silence approached an uncomfortable span before Sage swallowed deeply and said, “Saint Tropez? That’s on the French Riviera, right?”

I took a long drink of water before answering. “Holiday destination of the rich and famous. I went there to identify Janie’s body so Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to, and to find out how she died. The police suspected she fell off one of the megayachts that frequent the region. They said sometimes that happens when parties on board get out of hand. The autopsy confirmed the cause of death was drowning, and with the barbiturates in her system, she didn’t stand a chance of surviving once entering the water.”

Sage sneered. “Let me guess. Janie wasn’t a drug user?”

“Not on your life. Someone must’ve forced her to take them.”

“If I’m putting this together correctly, she was the victim of human trafficking? And…hell, my mind doesn’t want to go there, but…sex slavery?”

My hands clenched into fists in my lap. “There were…injuries in the autopsy report to indicate that. There was also a worn ring of skin surrounding one ankle that I suspect was from an electronic tag. Commonly used for prisoners on probation, but also the favored method for human traffickers to keep track of theirproperty.” I said the word with all the distaste it deserved. “They’re difficult to remove, but not impossible. Since taking it off triggers an alarm, there’s usually not much point unless you’re desperate. I think she was trying to escape. I think she knew the risks yet was willing to accept them. Janie was a tough country girl. She would’ve fought against her captors.”

Sage’s jaw worked as she bowed her head. “Those bastards,” she growled. “You have to find them, Brandon. They’re probably still out there taking women.”

“You’re right about there being other victims. And I will find the people responsible.”

A beat of silence passed before Sage blinked. A flash of realization crossed her features. “Shit.” She groaned and covered her face. “I screwed up.”

“What are you talking about?”

She raked her fingers through her hair as she shook her head. “I ruined your undercover sting. Worse than that, I’ve dragged you deeper into my mess, which will delay you finding the traffickers.” Her eyes snapped back to mine. “I’m sorry.”

I shifted closer to her on the bed until our knees were touching. “You havenothingto be sorry for.” When I’d decided to rescue Sage from Vixens, sacrificing my investigation had never entered the equation. Even if I found Janie’s abductors, my sister was never coming back. But Sage had been in serious danger, and that was something I could fix. “You did nothing wrong. Dante’s the only one to blame for you being stuck in that place. None of it was your fault. Okay?”

She nodded. Her glistening eyes locked onto mine.

What would’ve happened to Sage if she hadn’t gotten out? Dante had asked her to stay late. Had he planned to ship her to another country? How close had she come to experiencing the same horror as Janie?

Thinking about Sage suffering like that…it fucking did something to me. It made me furious, terrified, and determined to let nothing bad happen to her ever again. Most of all, it made me want to reach for her and drag her into my arms, as if holding her close could keep her safe forever.

If only it were that simple.

If only she’d let me.

“I have no regrets about the decision I made,” I said. “I went into the Wolf Street Mafia’s den fully understanding the consequences, and I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant saving you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m worthy of it.” Sage’s voice quavered, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

I leaned toward her and wiped it away with my thumb. “Of course you are, Sage. Why would you think you aren’t?”

She gave a sharp shake of her head. “It’s just…you’re doing this noble job, trying to eliminate a global human trafficking ring, and I’m pulling you from it.” She blinked back more tears and straightened her posture in an effort to compose herself. “You should be spending your time on that instead of getting my ass out of trouble.”

The urge to comfort her was strong. I reached across and took hold of Sage’s hand. Her eyes shifted to where we touched, but she didn’t pull away. Those delicate fingers molded to my palm as if testing the feel of my skin.

“You shouldn’t think like that,” I said. “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I squeezed her hand, then released it before things got awkward. I only wished to reassure her, not make her uncomfortable.

I was starting to understand Sage. She was an intelligent woman whose analytical mind was both an asset and her worst enemy. It never stopped thinking, and I hated seeing her hurting because of it.