Page 19 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

At least it was a smooth ride. Luna could get used to the rumble of Corbin’s unmarked Charger.

The car had power. Presence. Everything her rental lacked.

They cruised through the neighborhood toward the beach, a skate park coming into view—a sprawling area with a pump track, scattered skaters, and a dog park nearby.

Things were different than she remembered. The once-charming cottages were replaced by a tangle of rundown houses and overgrown lots. It held a strange stillness. A quiet, almost suffocating calm. As if the neighborhood itself was holding its breath.

She stared at Trinity’s profile picture on her phone. Were Trinity’s wide brown eyes the same as Corbin’s? Did she get her wavy black hair from Luna? Not the lips, though. Those weren’t Luna’s lips. She’d have killed for lips like that at her age.

“You okay?” Corbin asked.

“Yeah.” She locked the screen. “Just ... processing. It’s been a while since I’ve been back here.”

He turned the corner. A series of old, unkempt buildings lined the street. “Yeah, this area’s seen better days.”

Luna studied his profile, noting the sharp angle of his nose. Trinity had a smaller, delicate nose more like her own.

Ridiculous. She was seeing what she wanted to see. Classic confirmation bias. So desperate to find a connection, she was willing to fabricate one.

Moving on. “I don’t think these kids will be happy to see us.”

He laughed a dry, humorless sound. “They definitely won’t be happy to see me. I’m a cop.”

“Can’t argue with that.” She’d seen the same animosity in the eyes of those she recruited as assets.

The anger and fear simmering beneath the surface.

Most were taught that cops were the bad guys.

Do one thing wrong and they’d haul you off to jail.

Often she’d have to agree—even egg the asset on—in order to win trust.

A few seconds ticked by in silence. Corbin’s fingers tapped a mindless rhythm on the steering wheel. “So, what did your boss say to get you such high clearance?”

She knew this was coming. “Not sure.”

“Right. You’re a federal agent, but it’s all classified.” He did little curved finger air quotes. “How can I trust you as my partner when I don’t even know your creds?”

“I’m sorry, Corbin. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.”

“It’s fine. Really, I get it.” His tone was light, but his eyes were serious when he glanced at her.

She owed him more than that, didn’t she? After all, he was helping her find Stryker—and Trinity, even if he didn’t know it yet. She couldn’t keep pushing him away.

“Okay, fine. Here’s the truth. After we .

.. after the baby...” The words threatened to choke her up.

She didn’t let them. “After Stryker helped us make that arrangement, I needed to find myself. I’d flourished in Stryker’s program, and I knew I still needed the structure, so I joined the Marines. ”

The words were easier to say now. They’d been part of her for years. Her secret shame. Her twisted pride. “I worked on my college degree while I was in the service, through correspondence courses and online. And then, I got picked for Marine Intelligence.”

“Marine Intelligence?” Corbin’s eyebrows shot up. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Tell me about it.” Grueling training sessions.

Sleepless nights. Training had transformed her.

The last time they’d seen each other, she was hiding from the world, afraid of what her future held.

Now, she could withstand a lifetime of torture and captivity.

“And then ... then the Agency recruited me.”

Corbin jerked his head to look at her. “You’re telling me, you’re ... you’re...”

She held a finger to her lips.

He whistled low. “I’m ... I’m actually kind of impressed.”

“You should be,” she said with a small smile.

“So the PTSD...” he began, then paused like he thought better of it and tried again. “It’s from an operation?”

“That’s—”

“Classified,” he said.

“I was going to say it’s a longer story, but yeah, a classified one.”

“I guess that makes sense that you’d sort of disappear.” He seemed to relax a fraction. “So you really are here just to see Stryker?”

And to find their daughter. Luna didn’t tell him that. Not yet. She couldn’t tell him about the possibility that Trinity, the girl Stryker kept trying to save, was their daughter.

She saw the flash of understanding in his eyes, a glimmer of something deeper. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, but her fingers tightened around the strap of her seat belt. “Look, I know you’ve probably got a million questions, but—”

“I know. And believe me, I get it. After my dad ... well, let’s just say I understand the need to reinvent yourself.”

It hadn’t even occurred to her that he’d been running from his past as long as she had.

She felt a sudden kinship with him, recognizing the same drive that had pushed her all these years. “Maybe we’re not so different.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Corbin pulled his car to a stop across the street from a skate park. The concrete playground had a central bowl surrounded by ramps on one side and several rails and ledges on the other. A high vert ramp dominated the far end.

Beyond the park, the beach was cordoned off. A film crew worked in a swarm of activity, setting up equipment around a makeshift tent. Probably preparing for the moment when the sun dipped toward the horizon. Golden hour. The perfect light.

“This is it.” Corbin turned off the ignition and nodded toward a group of teenagers tracing lines across the concrete ramps. “And there they are.”

Five teens had congregated at the park. Luna recognized Ashley from the photo. A slim girl with purple-tipped hair standing near the top of the vert ramp, holding her phone out to capture the boys as they launched themselves into the air, one after another.

Another girl sat on the edge of a grind rail about twenty feet away from Ashley, her gaze fixed on her phone.

She wore torn jeans and a crop top, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail.

Behind her, a tall kid paced in front of the graffiti-covered ramp.

His oversized basketball shorts and faded band T-shirt hung on his bony body.

All limbs and nervous energy. Arms crossed.

Eyes darting around. He leaned over and whispered into the girl’s ear. She glanced at Corbin’s car and got up.

The two disappeared around the corner.

“I think they made us,” Corbin said.

“They didn’t seem like part of Ashley’s group anyway.” She opened her door and paused to glance at Corbin. “I’ll take the lead on this.”

“Whoa, hold on.” He started to protest, then paused. “You know what? I’d kind of like to see this.”

They got out of the car, and Luna felt the teens’ hostile stares. She straightened her spine, channeling the confidence that had served her well in far more dangerous situations, and crossed the street.

As they approached the remaining teens, Luna took stock.

Ashley had climbed down from the vert ramp and now stood at its base.

Beside her, her twin brother, Andre, watched them approach.

Stocky, with the same freckled complexion, he wore designer jeans, a crisp white tee, and a plaid flannel tied around his waist like he’d stepped straight out of a nineties skate video.

His skateboard rested against his thigh, but his posture told the real story.

Calm. Watchful. The one to keep an eye on.

The leader. Or at least he thought he was.

Another skater nailed an ollie off the quarter pipe and landed clean on the ground.

He slid to a stop beside the twins, one foot on his board, the other planted for balance.

Smaller than the twins, he had shaggy blond hair that fell into his eyes and wore ripped skinny jeans with a hoodie despite the warm weather.

Luna could see these teenagers weren’t hardened criminals—not yet. They were scared kids playing at being tough, and that made them unpredictable. Dangerous.

Corbin followed Luna toward Ashley, who pocketed her phone and whispered to Andre. Luna caught a faint whiff of marijuana.

“You boys smell bacon?” Andre asked. “What do you two want? We ain’t done nothin’.”

Luna held up her hands, palms out. “We’re not here to cause trouble. We just want to talk.”

“Talk to this.” Andre made a crude gesture with his fist.

Luna didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled and said, “Nice form, but your execution needs work. Here, let me show you.” She demonstrated the gesture with exaggerated flair, adding a twist at the end that had the boys laughing despite themselves.

“Where’d you learn that?” Andre asked.

“Oh, you pick up all sorts of things in the Marines.” She didn’t bother giving them her name.

The skater kid grabbed his board and stood behind his friends.

“Don’t mind him. He gets nervous around chicks.”

“So does my friend here.” She cocked her head at Corbin. “You guys got names?”

“Andre,” the stocky kid said. “This here’s Ashley and that’s Jordan.”

Ashley wrapped one arm around her middle and chewed the thumbnail of her other hand. She looked at Corbin. “Y’all still looking for Carlie?”

Corbin removed his sunglasses and slid them in his breast pocket. “Yeah, you seen her?”

Ashley shook her head and dropped her hands. “You know, she’s supposed to be, like, my best friend. I mean, we were best friends. And then she just, like, totally ghosted me. No calls. No texts. Nothing. She just, like ... vanished.”

“Did she ever talk about leaving town?” Corbin asked.

Ashley shrugged, her gaze dropping to her hands. She picked at a chipped fingernail, a sliver of black polish flaking off. “We, like, talked about moving in together one day. You know, when we’re older. Not like, anything serious.”

Kids were terrible liars. This girl was practically screaming “I’m hiding something.”

Corbin said, “Smart to make plans for your future. Where did you talk about moving to?”