Forever Hidden (Forever Bluegrass #2) (16 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sydney had her head bent over the sewing machine when she heard Robyn give a yip of excitement. She turned her head and saw Deacon leaning against the door, watching her. Those jeans hugging his thighs, that black V-neck sweater clinging to his chest, those chestnut brown eyes molten with desire as they traveled her body—she was in serious trouble.

Tomorrow night Deacon would run from her life in fear. Her father hated PIs and had no doubt told his brothers. Goodness knows what the uncles would do. She was sure that the innocent cleaning of weapons would be involved. Crap, she couldn’t remember if Dylan was in town. He was Tammy and Pierce’s son. A few years younger than Syd, he was built like a well-crafted tank and scared the crap out of most of the men her cousins brought to dinner without even opening his mouth. He just narrowed his eyes at them, flexed his hand into a ball, and the dates went running.

Jackson was going to be tough enough. He was Ryan’s younger brother and his silver eyes could freeze a man where he stood. And now the cousins in their younger twenties like Dylan’s younger brother, Jace, and Cade and Annie’s kids, Colton and Landon, were getting in on the action of tormenting dates. The twins! Cy and Gemma’s twin boys, Porter and Parker, were the worst. They would team up on the unsuspecting fools . . . dates, that is. Sydney went back through all the conversations with her aunts and uncles. Everyone would be away at college except Jace. He had graduated nine months before but was overseas, helping build a school in the middle of Africa. He was in charge of the project and would be gone for another four months. Oh thank goodness, maybe there was a small ray of hope tomorrow wouldn’t be a total disaster. Who was she kidding? This was her last night with Deacon, and she didn’t want to spend it clothed.

“Darlin’, you planning to sew an outfit out of air?”

Sydney blinked and looked away from Deacon. The needle in her sewing machine was running wildly with not a stitch of fabric nearby. Her material had long since fallen to the floor as she had sat ogling Deacon and simultaneously fearing the family dinner.

Deacon bent down and picked up a wiggling Robyn. He held her in his arms as the puppy lapped at his face. Deacon chuckled at the puppy’s antics, and Sydney felt like crying. She’d finally found someone to love and who loved her for all the right reasons. And she was so scared she’d lose him tomorrow.

“Deacon?”

“Hmm?” Deacon responded as he scratched behind Robyn’s ears.

“Make love to me,” Sydney whispered. Her heart ached, knowing tomorrow everything would change between them. Even if he managed not to be scared off, he would find her family overwhelming and too much work. She’d seen it over and over again with dates.

Sydney picked up the destroyed Prada shoe and tossed it to Robyn as Deacon set her down. “What’s the matter, Sydney?”

Sydney shook her head. “I just love you so much. I’m scared of losing you.”

Deacon cupped her face with his hands and waited for her to look him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, darlin’.” Then he lowered his lips to hers. He took his time tasting her, and Sydney savored every sweep of his tongue, every caress of his hands, and every sweet word he murmured as he kissed his way through undressing her.

Sydney took her time undressing him. She pulled his sweater over his head, and as his hands cupped her sides right under her breasts, Syd started unbuttoning his shirt. Deacon teased her by fluttering his fingers across the soft underside of her breast before moving them to gently trace her breasts in languid circles. Sydney’s breathing came faster as the heat built. She was pressing herself into his hands, silently begging him to take her nipples between his fingers as she removed his pants.

Without saying a word, Deacon bent forward and kissed her again. She sighed into his mouth as his tongue mimicked what she wanted his lower body to do. He took a step backward, and Sydney followed him without breaking the kiss. Deacon took a seat on her sewing chair and pulled her onto his lap. With their bodies pressed tightly against each other, they moved as one. Sydney felt tears well beneath her eyelids as she looked into Deacon’s eyes. All his love and passion for her were right there looking back at her. And she knew. She knew she would do anything to keep him in her life.

*     *     *

The next morning, Deacon drove a very un-Sydney-like pickup truck to meet with Nash. He had left Sydney asleep in bed and hadn’t stopped smiling since. It had been a very good night. A very long night, but that didn’t keep the bounce out of his step. Instead, he’d left a note on the pillow next to Sydney, telling her where he was and that he’d taken Robyn with him. He’d found the keys to the old beaten-up pickup hanging by the door leading to the garage and taken off.

Robyn sat proudly in the front seat as she looked out the window. He thought the little pup would enjoy running around the farm. She was such an angel he didn’t think Nash or Nabi would mind.

Deacon pulled into the farm and drove to the security building designed to look like a small but very secure barn. If you didn’t know what was inside—high tech computers, a holding room, and a lot of weapons—you would think it was just another barn on the farm.

He clipped Robyn’s leash onto her tiny collar and carried her from the truck. As soon as he put her on the ground, she gave a shake and then happily followed as he rang for entrance at the steel barn door. A buzzer sounded, and Deacon wound his way through the hallways to the computer room.

An older man with his head bent over a computer was the only person in the room besides Nabi. He looked everywhere for Nash but didn’t see him. The older man straightened and turned with a tight look to his face. Shit. This man was serious. His dark hair had only a few gray hairs at the temples. He was muscled, and the way his jaw tightened, Deacon knew this man would kill and think nothing of it.

“Who let you in with the Spawn of Satan?” the man asked with such menace Deacon wondered if he was about to be shot.

“Excuse me?” Deacon asked, not fully understanding.

The man pointed at Robyn who was happily wiggling around at the end of the leash. “That thing. She’s the Spawn of Satan. Just last week she attacked one of the police dogs my wife was training. Sent the poor thing running to his crate.”

Deacon was pretty sure this man was delusional. “Were you training a Chihuahua? Robyn’s a smushy little puppy.” Deacon laughed before he saw Nabi’s grim face as he tried to wave Deacon off the subject.

The other man snarled. “That
puppy
broke into a training exercise, latched onto the leg of the man in the bodysuit, and took him down. When Magnus tried to assist, that
puppy
snarled and smacked him on the nose with her paw, sending him running to his crate. By the time my wife got to them, Magnus was back at the kennel and Satan’s Spawn was sitting on top of the trainer. Just look at her,” the man pointed. “She
knows things
.”

Deacon looked down at Robyn. Robyn smiled up at him. “Sure, buddy. Look, I’m Deacon McKnight,” he said, holding out his hand. The man looked at Robyn dubiously before reaching out and shaking hands.

“Ahmed Mueez.”

Deacon almost snorted with laughter.
This
was the big, bad Ahmed? This man who was afraid of a little puppy? The door opened, and a woman with beautiful long, strawberry-blond hair, wearing all black, sauntered in.

“There’s my little spawn. Your mommy said you’d be here,” she cooed to Robyn who rolled over on her back to get her round belly rubbed. The woman stood up and turned to him. “Hi. I’m Bridget Mueez, Ahmed’s wife. Sydney said you had Robyn. I’m here to take her to obedience school for the week.”

Robyn narrowed her eyes and moved closer to Deacon’s leg as she lifted her lip in a snarl. “I don’t think she wants to go,” Deacon said with surprise as the little pup made it very clear she didn’t want to go and expected Deacon to do something about it. It was like she knew what they were saying.

Bridget bent down and looked at Robyn. “We’re going to learn a lot of cool things. How would you like to find drugs? Learn to take down the bad guys? Find stolen Prada?”

The little puppy yipped in excitement and jumped into Bridget’s arms. Deacon shook his head as he watched Bridget tell the puppy all the things she was going to teach her.

“Why is she talking to Robyn like she can understand?” Deacon asked as the door closed.

“Because she can. That whole line going back to Bob could understand you. It’s not natural. They just sit there looking at you like you’re
their
pet.” Ahmed shivered.

Deacon had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Just you wait. You’ll see,” Ahmed said ominously.

“Okay. Well, is Nash ready?” Deacon asked Nabi.

“He gave me his report. Nash had to leave very early this morning,” Nabi said with sadness. What had happened?

“Why?” Deacon asked.

“The king wanted him to come home. He had a mission for Nash,” Ahmed said tightly. “He is sending some imbecile to replace him—the ambassador’s son. He’s a spoiled nitwit who is in some distant way related to the king.”

Deacon didn’t know what to say. “He just left? I know he didn’t tell Sydney or she would have been very upset. He was a good friend of hers and many others.”

“He was the best. We have groomed him to take over here, but now our plans must change. He was called away immediately. He didn’t have time to inform anyone outside of security. He wouldn’t anyway. Nash wouldn’t appreciate the fuss but he filled me in, and I’m here to offer any assistance I can,” Ahmed said as his jaw finally relaxed. “Nash said he was able to find a Victor Tamboli from Hungary who has ties to Durante Ingemi and Tristan Models, mostly in Europe. Beyond that, he’s a ghost.”

Deacon felt somewhat panicked. He and Nash had understood each other. But he couldn’t get a feel on this Ahmed guy. Besides knowing he was afraid of a puppy and that he looked like he’d killed three terrorists before breakfast, he knew nothing about Ahmed.

“Then let’s make the best of it,” Deacon said as they got down to business. “I found over seventy ads for women and children for sale during the big game. I narrowed it to ads featuring young women since the girls we found in Atlanta weren’t over twenty years old. I found thirty-seven that referred to girls as
fresh
,
new to town
, and
college freshmen
looking for dates. I narrowed it further by seeing which ads had the same phone number or a phone number trying to be concealed from automated searches, like the letter
o
instead of a zero. That cut the list down even more.” Deacon handed the printout of seventeen numbers to Ahmed and Nabi.

“College freshman roommates new to the area who are open to new experiences, love sports, and are looking for a party,” Nabi read slowly.

Deacon nodded. “That’s the one that looks the most suspicious to me. And if you look at the bottom of the page, there’s another one that’s very similarly worded and the phone number is the same if you change the letter
l
for the number 1.”

Ahmed’s jaw was back to being tight as he typed into the computer. “The phone number is a burner phone out of Florida. Very strange for an ad in Indianapolis.  What about the other fifteen?”

“They all reference football, sports, or watching sports. That’s why I think they’re girls who have been moved in specifically for the event. I just don’t know how to track them down,” Deacon confessed.

Nabi stood and went to a row of drawers. He opened one and pulled out phones, tossing one to each man. “We call them.”

Deacon looked at his five numbers to call and felt his stomach tighten in disgust. He turned on his phone and dialed.

Thirty minutes later, Deacon lifted his hand from the desk he’d splintered. Some of the numbers he dialed were answered by a woman and some by a man. But they all only cared about the money. Deacon had told them he worked in the oil business and would be at the game and desired some barely legal,
wink-wink
, dates who wanted to party with him and his friends. He had negotiated prices, times, and locations. Some demanded Deacon host the party at their place; others were happy to bring the girls to him along with
security
for the girls’ protection. But he knew better. That security would be there to keep the girls from escaping. Talking with these people had made him so angry he had smashed his hand onto the table, breaking it.

Ahmed and Nabi looked as awful as he did. “Which ones gave you the worst feeling?” Ahmed asked quietly. “Although they all deserve to die.”

They discussed their calls and by the end had four parties set up that would come to them with girls matching the descriptions Gentry had sent.

“The party with the 555 number and the woman answering gave me the worst feeling,” Deacon told them. “She told me they would call with the details, but I would have to have my
date
after the game. They would be at a private party during the game.”

“That sounds like a solid lead,” Ahmed said as he circled the number.