Forever Alexa (Book Four In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (29 page)

She was a hypocrite, plain and simple. She always touted the importance of telling the truth to Livy and her students, yet she was taking the first steps down the road of deception. Her shame only compounded when she caught site of Jack and Livy through the window, sitting in a lawn chair by the docks. Jack took Livy’s dripping vanilla cone from undoubtedly sticky fingers and licked around the melting edges, then he handed it back to her. He was such a good daddy, such a good man, and she was going behind his back. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she muttered as she clasped her hand around her necklace and looked away.

There was no one she wanted to hurt less. She loved him, but she loved Abby too. Her sister had slipped through their fingers. They were running out of chances to bring her home. How long would the sex ring wait before they shipped her overseas, if they hadn’t already? Desperate times called for desperate measures, and what she was doing fell under that heading.

Bolstered by her justifications, Alexa reached for the papers again. She lifted the pretty shell Tucker used as a paperweight with trembling fingers, mindful to remember the order in which she took sheets from the stack. She scanned the first two pages—e-mail correspondences between Ethan and Tucker—and set them on the desk. She studied Timothy Monroe’s Department of Motor Vehicles picture, and then moved on to the copy of his information from Baltimore Dates. “PhotoShop,” she murmured as she read his profile name, interests, hobbies, and philosophies on life. Interesting, but not what she was looking for. She flipped again until she stared at the photo of the beautiful girl with blonde hair and brown eyes—LoveGoddess17.

Kristen looked different from the pictures Alexa had seen on the Missing Children’s Websites and local news. Here she appeared older; the hint of desperation and defiance in her eyes was unmistakable, but she was just a baby—barely seventeen. A swift kick of anger melded with sorrow. This was so wrong. Everything about this entire situation was wrong for Kristen and Abby.

Kristen should’ve been home getting ready for a date to the movies or sunbathing by a pool with her best girlfriend, not dealing with the traumas of prostitution and sex slavery. Alexa slammed the paper to the desk, growing angrier by the second, and studied the shadowy photograph of the man known as Crazy80. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones hinted at a handsome face, but it was hard to tell with his dark shades and ball cap pulled low on his head. He could be anyone, but he wasn’t Timothy Monroe or Renzo. The features she could make out didn’t fit either man, but that didn’t mean Crazy80 didn’t
know
Timothy and Renzo.

She tore her gaze from the mysterious face and read his generic profile. Next she read the conversations Kristen Moore had had with him. Her breathing grew shallow as she scanned the words of a young woman in crisis and the slimy promises of someone who knew what a girl desperate for love and attention would want to hear. “Bastard,” she hissed as her eyes filled. Crazy80 was a bastard of the lowest form. He’d reeled Kristen in with false promises, and now she was paying the ultimate price.

The sticky clutches of guilt troubling Alexa lessened as she stacked the papers neatly and replaced the paperweight. She needed to do this. She had to help Abby and Kristen and as many other victims as she could. Hopefully this would be the beginning of the end for all of them. If the answers to her sister’s disappearance were floating in cyberspace as Jack said, she was going to find them. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer and jotted down the Baltimore Dates URL along with the links to Timothy Monroe’s and Crazy80’s profiles, although the latter’s had been disabled shortly after Kristen disappeared, according to the notes Ethan sent.

She shoved the paper in her pocket and glanced out the window again. She did a double take as she noticed the empty lawn chair. Where did Jack and Livy go? She scanned the crowds of people talking and laughing in groups around picnic tables or the small fire pit until she found them on the dock. Despite everything, a smile tugged at her lips. Jack held Livy on his lap, but a fishing pole had replaced the dripping ice cream cone in her hands. Alexa’s heart melted as she stared at her baby girl smiling up at her daddy.

Forgetting herself, Alexa walked closer to the window, drawn by the sweet scene Jack and Livy made. He was so perfect and kind. “Handsome Jack,” she whispered, as she had so many times before when he filled her heart to bursting.

He loved Livy. He loved her.

It was safer and certainly less scary to believe he’d said what he did because he’d been caught up in the heat of passion, but while they lay together in the wee hours of the morning, holding hands with their daughter snuggled between them, she’d had no choice but to accept that he meant every word. He’d never gotten over her; he’d never stopped loving her.

Alexa stepped back from the glass and sighed as she pressed her hand to the paper in her pocket. Would he be able to forgive her for this? From the beginning, their relationship had been built on trust. Would such a blatant deception ruin what they were working to get back? She needed to believe he would understand. She thought of her sister’s screams of terror and whispered pleadings for help. “I’m coming for you, Ab. No matter what, I’m coming for you.”

Turning her back to the window, she walked from the room and closed the door behind her.

“Night, night, Lovely Livy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Livy puckered up for her kiss.

Alexa leaned in and pressed her lips to her daughter’s. “Snuggle up, sweetie.” She tucked the light cotton sheet up to Livy’s chest.

“I want to write a book about fishing with daddy,” Livy announced as Alexa settled herself more comfortably on the edge of the bed for their nightly bedtime chat.

“I think that sounds wonderful.” She brushed Livy’s soft bangs back from her forehead. “What will you say?”

“It’s a surprise. I will draw the pictures, and you can write what I say for the words.”

Alexa smiled. She’d introduced Livy to ‘storytelling’ as a diversionary tactic during a particularly long wait for a well-child checkup two months before. Livy had been wild about drawing her ‘stories’ ever since.

“I want to draw my fishies in the morning.”

“It’s a date. I can’t wait. We’ll get started right after breakfast.”

Livy’s grin turned into an enthusiastic yawn.

“I think someone needs to close their eyes.”

“Don’t turn off the light.”

“I promise I won’t.” Alexa kissed her finger and touched Livy’s nose. “Sweet dreams, my smart, beautiful girl.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Alexa hugged Livy tight. “I love you too.”

“I want to say goodnight to Daddy.”

“He’ll be up a little later. He’s helping Grampy and a few of the neighbors put away some of the heavy tables and chairs.”

“Don’t tell him about my book. It’s a secret present,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Cross my heart.” Alexa winked as she followed her words with the appropriate action.

Livy yawned again and turned to her side with her stuffed frog—a sure sign that she would be down and out within minutes. “I don’t know how to draw fishies,” she said groggily.

“I’ll show you.” Alexa rubbed Livy’s back and watched her eyes grow heavy. Her baby blinked once, twice, three times, and then her lids stayed closed.

Alexa stared at her pretty girl, wishing this was any typical evening, but it wasn’t. She had stuff to do, things she wished she didn’t have to. She touched Livy’s arm and stood, regretting that she couldn’t curl up and snuggle while she read a chapter or two in a good book. Instead, she walked to the window, watching Jack and Tucker help several of the older residents of the neighborhood stack large folding tables and numerous chairs into the back of pickup trucks. There were half a dozen vehicles down the block that needed to be unloaded.

Jack sat in the driver’s seat of Mr. Farley’s loaded-down flatbed. Tucker hopped in on the passenger’s side. The break lights glowed bright in the dark, and then the truck took off down the street.

Alexa stepped back and hurried to the guest bathroom. She peeked at Livy, who was by now sound asleep, before she closed the door and began her work, detesting every second. Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror, then plucked up the hair tie sitting on the counter and pulled her hair up in a tight ponytail. She wrapped her long mane of soft black locks around the elastic and secured the bun she’d made with bobby pins.

It was time for step two—the tricky part. How did she go about making herself appear several years younger than she was? She wasn’t an old hag, but she certainly wasn’t eighteen. Light on the makeup would probably be best. Alexa pulled powder, an eyeliner pencil, and other cosmetics from the drawer she had shoved them in and started her transformation. She powdered her face, then drew a thin line of dark blue across the edge of one eyelid, then the next. Beige eye shadow followed for a natural look. She brushed her lashes with several short sweeps of the mascara wand and examined the effect. Perfect. Her lake-blue eyes were huge. She applied a swipe of blush and heightened the fullness of her lips with clear, shimmery gloss.

Alexa unbuttoned her pale pink top until a hint of smooth, creamy cleavage peeked out from the black, clinging, spaghetti-strapped tank she wore underneath. She grabbed the chin-length blond wig she’d swiped from one of Carol’s prop boxes and secured it in place. Closing her eyes, she took several breaths and opened them. She blinked at the prettily chic youngster staring back at her in the mirror. A slow smile touched her mouth as she tilted her head and glanced up from under her lashes. Flirtatious. Sexy. Naive.
Amazing
. Definitely not sixteen, but certainly not twenty-seven either. This could work. This just might work.

She picked up the digital camera she’d set on the counter before she helped Livy brush her teeth and aimed the lens in her own direction. She practiced her sweet, vulnerable look a few times before she snapped a picture. She examined the results, scrutinizing, making sure it was impossible to tell she was related to Abby, then took several more. She pressed the button again, trying for that desperate and defiant look, attempting to mirror the picture she had seen of Kristen.

Alexa glanced at the digital clock tucked in the corner on the granite countertop and winced. She had taken longer than she’d planned. Jack would be home before long, and she had so much more to do. Setting down the camera, Alexa pulled off the wig, crouched down, and shoved the fake hair to the back of the cupboard below the sink. She washed her face, scrubbing off the makeup she’d painstakingly applied, and changed into a long Ravens jersey. With her skin fresh and soft from moisturizer, she opened the door and stepped into the bedroom with her camera in hand.

Smiling, she walked to Livy, who was already tangled in the sheets. Alexa tugged on the blanket and gently pulled Gordon free from Livy’s clutches, rescuing the frog from his one-leg dangle off the bed, and set the stuffed animal next to her daughter’s side, knowing her restless little sleeper would reach for him when she moved again.

With Livy settled, Alexa hurried to the small sitting area and plunked herself on the couch with her laptop. She pulled free the piece of paper she’d stuffed in her pocket and typed the Baltimore Dates URL in to the address bar. Seconds later, a backsplash of the city, along with several pictures of smiling, attractive couples filled her screen. She blew out a nervous breath as she located the
Join Now!
hyperlink and pressed it. This was it—the official point of no return.

Her heart beat faster as she looked at the empty data fields waiting to be filled with her name, date of birth, e-mail address, and so on. She placed her fingers on the home row, licked her lips, and started to type the first few letters of her profile name, ‘JennyLove,’ but the framed picture of Jack on the side table caught her eye.

She froze, staring at a younger Jack grinning with a college football trophy in his hands. She remembered that night and the glory of watching Jack and his team battle their way to the division championship. Hundreds of students had rushed the field when Jack landed on his back with the winning catch, herself included. Among the sea of maroon uniforms and the chaos of exited fans, they’d found one another. He’d picked her up—sweaty and exhausted—and spun her while they laughed and plied each other with quick, enthusiastic kisses. So much had changed in the years since George took that picture of his son, but Jack’s eyes were still the same—kind, friendly, and honest. “Damn,” she sighed. “Please understand, Jack. Please understand that I have to do this.” She rubbed at her stomach as it clenched with the newly familiar pangs of guilt. “Abby. Abby. Abby,” she whispered as she tore her gaze from Jack’s. “This is for Abby.” Remembering her purpose, she buried the mix of messy emotions and settled in to create the profile she’d been planning for much of the day. With her fingers back on the keyboard, she typed ‘Jennifer Carstens’ as her name. Jennifer had just turned eighteen on April 12 and loved photography. She’d graduated from high school a month ago, and her dream was to become either a fashion photographer or model; it didn’t matter as long as she worked in the industry. College was still up in the air. She wanted to spend a year traveling with her girlfriends before she made any major commitments. For fun she enjoyed taking pictures, anything adventurous, hanging out with friends, shopping, and partying.