her senior. But she’s gracious about the fact I know much more about my territory than she and Ion ever could.
Africa’s underworld is a tough one to crack.
“The face of the charity would be for the sake of pulling out children from child armies. Rescue missions that lead to education, food, clothing. Safety, or as much safety as we can give them. It will expand our reach and make us even more legitimate. Establish us in the world as more than some big criminal organization.” She nods for me to keep going. “It will also get us close to these warlords. Close enough to know their secrets and possibly execute them and take over, lend us even more power.”
“I like this idea. We need to get onto bigger and better things, and I can’t say I don’t sympathize with these children.”
“The only thing that gives me pause is talking to some of the young women. There are issues that not only am I not comfortable discussing, but I doubt they would be too keen hearing it from me. I’d like someone who can do that for me, if that’s possible,” I tell her, not pushing too hard as if it’s an order.
“Stay in town for a couple more days while I finalize all the filing of the paperwork. I’ll look for someone and get you in touch with her.”
We shake hands, the meeting over for now and my presence dismissed.
All that’s left to do is find me a partner in crime that can handle these sensitive parts, I only hope she can handle me keeping secrets or handle what those secrets are.
Chapter One
Melody
I put on a pair of capri yoga pants and a crop top, both things I wear more on my walks than I do for lounging at home. In fact, I’m just not the type no matter what people think when they look at me.
My curves are entirely genetic, natural, and have nothing to do with a sedentary lifestyle.
For almost two years now, my life has been a full and busy one, advocating for the silent voices of children who fell victim to private adoption agencies. The kind that make a lot of money and don’t make sure where kids are going is safe.
The non-profit I worked for, made it their mission to also get these kids better homes and prosecute families and companies that caused the abuse before rehabilitating them and getting them back out into the world in any way possible.
The noblest cause I could imagine.
But the story with this one was the same as the other two I worked for part-time for the three years before that, to make ends meet and move up in the ranks.
The economy has taken so many good causes victim, forcing them to close their doors.
And now, a week after my last day at Young Hearts Wanted Here, I find myself at home, very much needing to sublimate, but not knowing how to do it.
I’ll admit, I’m passionate, which makes me a bit of a workaholic. I get bored sitting still, and this is only my second attempt at binging Netflix for more than two shows in a row. The closest to junk food I down too much of is baked chips that are sitting on my couch, waiting for me and my blonde messy bun; the only thing I’ve done ‘right’.
I finally curl up on the couch and relax, something I have to talk myself through. Not only because I’m again, not that girl, but also because while I made plenty of money while at the non-profit to live comfortably. I don’t have the kind of savings to survive on with nothing. And I can’t help but be afraid there won’t be something else out there for me. That I’ll have to start from scratch in some other field, at least until the economy takes an eventual upturn.
I find a good show about unsolved mysteries and get lost in it, one of my guilty pleasures if I do have the time to watch TV. I’m only broken out of the trance when my phone makes a pinging sound, letting me know one of my social media accounts has a message. And since they’re all set up for business, in hopes of someone coming across my profiles and wanting to hire me, I look at it immediately.
It’s my LinkedIn, and I open the message excitedly, hoping it’s something legit. I can’t just sit here and let my savings dwindle, and