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The knowledge that the world hasn’t been plastered with missing persons posters with her face on it bugs me. From the looks on the faces around the room, it’s a thorn in all our sides.
We chat some more about where we go from here and how we’re going to ensure every female rescued gets what they need to go back to their lives or start over. I try and focus on the conversation, but it’s hard when my heart tugs at the knowledge that Tara doesn’t have anyone in her corner.
Maybe she just needs someone to rely on—a friend—and she’ll be able to turn her life around. I don’t know, but I’m not willing to give up hope on it. I think Sioux would agree with me.
When we’re dismissed from the meeting, we agree to meet again tomorrow to find out if Hacker has found out anything else. Lucifer will also then update us on the phone calls he’s making today to get some advice on how we do right by these females.
The first person I see when I step back into the common room is Tara. By the looks of it, she’s having a very in-depth conversation with Connie. Her eyes are bright, and her hands are moving around animatedly. A smirk dances on her lips as she nods excitedly at something Connie is saying.
Suddenly, Tara looks up and her eyes lock on me. My first instinct is to take a step back, but then I remember everything we know she’s gone through.
She doesn’t even say goodbye to Connie as she gets up and practically bounces across the room toward me. “Apostle,” she drawls, “it’s so good to see you again.” Her smile is bright, and I find myself returning it while pity for her fills me. “Connie was telling me about the angels. I think that would be perfect for me,” she chirps and my gut twists painfully.
I shake my head firmly and bark, “No.”
She looks taken aback, her eyes filling with tears and her lower lip quivering. Instantly I feel bad about yelling at her.
“I’m sorry, Tara,” my voice is gentle. “I didn’t mean to yell at you and scare you. I just don’t think that being an angel is a good idea. You’ve had a lot happen to you lately and need to deal with that.”
She pouts and runs her hands down her body, trying to be seductive and the pity I feel for her grows. “What? You don’t think I’m pretty enough? That my body isn’t good enough?” Fat tears roll down her cheeks and make me feel like an ass. “I know Connie is gorgeous, but I’m just as good as her.”
I reach for her slowly, the need to comfort her warring with not wanting to touch anyone but my Firefly. She seems to melt when I grip her shoulders and give a gentle squeeze. “It’s not about that,” I assure her. “But you should heal first and get your head on straight before making those kinds of decisions.”
Tara scoffs and glares up at me. “What would you know about getting your head on straight?”
Without giving me a chance to answer, she rips herself from my hold and stomps back toward Connie whose face is twisted in concern. Connie looks at me like I’m evil incarnate and opens her arms for Tara when she’s close enough.
The sobs coming from Tara as she collapses in Connie’s arms are loud and attract the attention. It makes me feel lower than scum.
I don’t know how I’m going to make this right, but I will. Maybe being Tara’s friend is the first step.
CHAPTER 18
SIOUX
Being wrapped up in Crosby’s arms makes me feel cherished. It makes me feel whole. And it’s sending tingles everywhere he’s touching. It’s like nothing I’ve felt with anyone else, and I find myself trusting it more and more.
His closeness makes it difficult to concentrate on the movie. I want him and my body is trying to urge me to give in to my desires.
When I glance up at him, his jaw is clenched, and his eyes are fixed on the television. Still, I get the feeling he’s not really here with me.
The thought makes me frown.
Crosby has always been very present when he’s with me, but that’s not the case today. I’ve told myself that it’s because of the stress the club is under right now. They took on a lot of responsibility when they rescued those girls and woman.
I know it, but I would hope that he could leave that behind him when he’s at home with me. That’s probably an unfair thought. How can you leave something like what he witnessed behind him.
It would be selfish for me to want him to.
My role here is to be his support and sounding board when he needs me. I don’t need to question him or put unfair expectations on him.
When I stroke my hand down his arm, Crosby’s dark eyes leave the screen and meet my gaze. His eyes are glazed over like he’s thinking about something a million miles away, but his focus slowly returns.
I hate seeing the lost look on his face. He’s trying to hide it, but I see him. I know this man’s soul and he’s hurting.
My voice is soft, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he grunts gruffly.
