Page 49 of Jenna's Protector
“All this time, I thought I was a random victim of a cruel twist of fate, but you’re saying I was just a pawn in a game I never even knew I was playing. It’s terrifying to know what could have happened to me.”
“And yet it didn’t. I’m sorry, Jenna.” Forest’s words are soft, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect youthen, and I’m sorry I have to ask for your help now, but we need you. Those missing girls need you.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, but I blink them back, my jaw clenching with a newfound determination.
“I think my part in this is done. You have the sketches, for whatever they’re worth, and I want to return to my very simple and safe life.” My voice bleeds with emotion.
Forest nods, his expression full of pride tempered with gratitude. He pulls me into a brief hug, his strong arms enveloping me in a cocoon of safety and comfort.
“You’re braver than you know.”
As we part, I glimpse Carter through the doorway. His face is a mask of concentration as he pores over a stack of documents. Tension girds his entire frame. It tightens his shoulders and firms his jawline.
He’s thinking about the missing girls, about the weight of responsibility that rests on his shoulders. I’m reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place.
And yes, I have fallen head over heels in love.
Irrevocably and absolutely.
Because Carter Jackson is a man who will stop at nothing to protect the innocent and bring justice to those who have been wronged. I love watching him work. His dedication and passion shine through everything he does.
SEVENTEEN
Carter
The briefing roomis a mess of tension and exhaustion. We huddle around the table, poring over Jenna’s sketches. The weight of the case hangs heavy in the air, punctuated by faces etched with grim determination.
Mitzy carefully removes each sketch from Jenna’s book, handling them like precious things. Her psychedelic hair sparkles under the lights as she spreads Jenna’s sketches out on the table, arranging and rearranging them like puzzle pieces.
“Look at this.” She points to a detail in one of the sketches. “This building, it’s got unique architectural features. We might be able to use that to narrow down the location.”
“How do we narrow down the location based on the architecture?” Stitch, Mitzy’s complete opposite with her long, raven-black hair and goth persona, leans in closer.
Mitzy taps her chin thoughtfully. “We can cross-reference it with known buildings in the area. We might land a hit on the architect who designed it. Use that to work back to this place.”
The door to the briefing room suddenly swings open, and a staff member enters, carrying a stack of pizza boxes. The aroma ofmelted cheese and garlic wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“It’s gonna be a long night, folks. Thought we could use some fuel.” Sam stands, his voice cutting through the chatter.
The team cheers, grateful for the sustenance. They dig in, grab slices, and refocus on the task at hand, but I hesitate. Jenna’s not in the room, and it doesn’t feel right to eat without her.
Ethan speaks up after taking a bite of pizza. “Hey, Mitzy, what about what we did when we rescued Eve? Call in your cyber geeks that do that geolocate thing.”
“I’m one step ahead of you.” Mitzy’s eyes light up. “Already sent a request.”
“What does that mean?” My brow furrows.
Ethan, the team strategist, chimes in. “When we rescued Eve Deverough, all we had to go on was a photo. Mitzy worked her magic, and we located the compound. We’re hoping they can do the same with Jenna’s sketches.”
“Yeah, they’re the best of the best,” Mitzy says. “Give them a blurry photo and a half-eaten bagel, and they’ll find its location faster than you can say ‘enhance.’”
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting harsh shadows across the room. My gaze drifts to the open door, catching a glimpse of Jenna in the hallway. She’s talking to Forest, her shoulders hunched, her body language screaming discomfort.
A pang of guilt twists in my gut. I did this to her, dragged her back into the nightmare she’s tried so hard to escape.
Max, my loyal German Shepherd, sits at my feet. He senses my unease. His ears perk up, and his eyes fix on me. I reach down, scratching behind his ears.
“Hey, buddy. Go take care of our girl, will you?”