Pawn (The Pawn Duet #2) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,37

I’m just about to go and grab some food. You wanna join me?”

“You part of some church group or something?” she asks, scrunching her nose.

“Nope. I’m not exactly the religious type.

She nods and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Then, do I look like I got money for food?” She shakes her head and stubs out her cigarette on the rock, flicking it into the water.

“No, it’s on me. Actually, it’s on my family. They’re having a barbecue. You should come,” I say, and the kindness in my voice isn’t fake. The girl’s cheeks are sunken in, and it looks like she could use a good meal. It’s the least I can do for her, considering where I’m taking her and what I’m potentially exposing her to.

It's all part of the greater plan.

“Why?” she asks, suspiciously, and rightfully so.

I take a few steps toward her. “Well, because you look lost and I was lost once, and before you can find yourself, you have to feed yourself,” I explain. “Besides, someone gave me a second chance once. Someone gave me hope when I didn’t have any.”

And it’s true, but I’m not thinking of the Reich when I say those words. I’m talking about Pike.

She raises a suspicious, pierced eyebrow.

I smile. “Maybe, I just want to return the favor to the universe, pay it forward. Some shit like that.”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t feel like being sex- trafficked today.”

“You got a phone?” I ask.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, why?”

“Take it out.” I take a step back. “I’m not trying to take it from you I swear.”

Reluctantly, she pulls it out of her pocket.

I turn to the side and pose the way the girls do these days with their selfies. Hand on my hip, knee up, slightly turned to the side. “Take a picture of me.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. She takes a picture of my ridiculous pose. She laughs harder when I give full duck lips. “You going to leave now?”

“No, I want you to send that picture to someone you trust along with my name. Michaela Lovejoy. Dr. Michaela Lovejoy, actually. I’ll give you the address of the barbecue, too, and if the person you are texting likes barbecue, then invite them to come along.”

She twists her lips and then her thumbs fly over the keys, and I know she’ll be coming back with me.

I smile brighter. “Make sure to tell them if you go missing that I’m the one responsible.”

I almost forget that my plans are actually nefarious when we’re in the van singing along to a bubbly pop song until she lowers the volume and asks, “So, what’s the name of this group of yours?”

It takes everything I have to maintain a casual attitude and to keep the smile on my face from dropping, but the corner of my lip twitches with disdain. “The Fourth Reich.”

“Never heard of it,” she says, staring out the window at the cornfields surrounding the road. “My name’s Emma, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Emma,” I reply. The van makes a dinging sound. “Shit. I need gas,” I say, noticing the red line is below empty. I pull into the Stop-N-Shop. “Wait in here. I’ll just be a second.”

I step out of the van and go inside, paying for the gas. When I come back out, I fill the tank. I replace the gas nozzle on the hook, and when I turn back around, I find myself trapped, barricaded by a wall of Pike.

“What?” I breathe. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” he says, looking toward the truck. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Nobody,” I reply. I want to be mean and rude and yell at him but staring up into his eyes I feel the pull between us and I can’t ignore it.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper.

He stares into my eyes. “You thought wrong.” He points to the van. “Who the fuck is that?”

I bounce my weight from one foot to another, not wanting to tell him. Embarrassed and ashamed.

“Mic,” he presses, pushing me against the back of the van. He brushes a stray hair away from my face. “Tell me….please”

I look to my shoes. “Fine. She’s my assignment. I have to bring a recruit back to the barbecue,” I say, quickly. I cross my arms over my chest like a child. “Happy? Because I’m not.”

He frowns. “Far fucking from it.”

“It’s not like I want to,” I whisper-hiss.