With my hands wrapped around my warm cup of coffee, I finish telling Detective Erikson about what happened to Sam and how he came to be with me.
“Sam said the abuse didn’t begin right away. It was close to a year before it started,” I tell Wesley’s friend.
Detective Erikson looks up from writing something in his notebook, his expression full of concern. I was surprised when he walked in the door, expecting someone younger since Wesley said he was a friend of his. It was through their greeting, when Wesley asked about Detective Erikson’s son, Bryan, that I realized it was through the detective’s son that they were friends.
“Is there any proof he was being abused? Photos?”
I set my cup on the counter and reach for my phone. Swiping my finger through folders of photos, I find the one labeled Sam and click it. I hand it over to Detective Erikson.
“These are the only ones I have. I snapped them the day I took Sam.”
He scrolls through the photos, his brows dropping lower and lower with each picture he looks at. Every time I see the bruises on the back of his thighs, his back, and his chest, they turn my stomach. I’ve never felt so much hatred toward a person until I found out what was happening to my baby brother. I’ll never understand how people can get off on hurting others in such a way. Especially a child.
“The wound on his thigh is still healing. It was pretty bad at first. There’s pictures of that as well.”
“Who cut him?”
My teeth gnash together. “Mark. Sam tried to get away the last time and Mark stabbed him.”
He swipes through the rest of the photos.
“I was afraid to take him to the hospital to have the wound looked at because I didn’t want them to call the authorities. I knew they would find out who he is and send him back.”
The detective pulls out a business card and hands it to me, along with my phone. “I need you to send me those photos. My email is on the card.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Have you been in contact with the mayor since you pulled him out of the house?”
“A few times. I had to keep up the ruse that I didn’t know where he was, so I’ve called him a few times and asked for any updates. He called me the day I took him to find out if I knew where he was. I also went to the police station to talk to the detective overseeing the disappearance. I figured the more concerned I appeared, the less likely they would be to suspect me.”
Those phone calls with the mayor always turned my stomach because I knew what the man and his son had done to my brother. Each time, it was on the tip of my tongue to call him out on his evil doings, but I held the temptation back.
Detective Eriksom flips his notebook closed and slips it inside his jacket pocket. “I’ll be honest with you, Jersey. You taking Sam out of the house will be considered kidnapping.” My lungs freeze. “With just those photos and Sam’s statement, it would normally be a difficult case because of who we’re dealing with. He could have his lawyers spin it however he wants and most likely get away with it.” His expression softens when he sees the fear on my face. “However, it just so happens, the DA is already building a case against Mayor Beckett and his youngest son, along with several other well-known prominent figures. It hasn’t been made public, and I could get in trouble for telling you this, but something tells me,” his eyes slide to Wesley’s, who’s standing just behind my chair, “you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“I swear, I will,” I promise.
“Mayor Beckett and his son, Mark, are known participants in a child sex trafficking ring the state has been investigating for the last six months.”
I suck in a sharp breath, horror and disgust twisting my stomach into knots.
“How in the hell could the state have allowed Sam to stay in their house if they were being investigated for something like that? He could have been removed months ago!”
“I understand your anger, Jersey,” the detective states calmly, which only pisses me off even more. “It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that definitive proof was found that the two were involved.”
“Why haven’t they been arrested yet?” I demand to know.
Some of my ire cools when a strong hand lands on my shoulder. I close my eyes and let Wesley’s comforting touch soothe me.
“I don’t know if you know much about the judicial system, but things take time,” Detective Erikson explains, and I open my eyes. “The DA didn’t want any mistakes to pop up when this moves to court. They’re also trying to find ways to prevent the mayor, his son, and the other known offenders from being offered bail because the likelihood of them running is high. They’re getting their ducks in order, but I suspect arrests will be made over the next few days.”
“Do we need to worry about Jersey being arrested for kidnapping?” Wesley asks, talking for the first time since we entered the kitchen.
The last thing I’m worried about is being arrested. I’d take Sam from the Mayor’s house a thousand more times and spend lifetimes in prison if it meant getting him away.
“I honestly won’t know until I talk to the DA. If she were arrested, I highly doubt the charges would stick. Not with the evidence stacked against the mayor and his cohorts.”
My shoulders droop and relief settles in my stomach. “So, what do we do now?”
He pats my hand and gets up from his chair. “I’d like to talk to Sam myself. It’ll be unofficial since he’ll be put back into the state’s custody, and I haven’t been given rights to take his statement.”
“He’ll be put back with the state?” I croak the question. I would much rather have him be part of the state over having him living with those vile people, but it still hurts knowing he won’t be coming home with me.
“I’m not exactly sure what will happen to him, but yes, for the time being, he’ll be put in a temporary home. The important thing is, he won’t go back to the mayor’s house. As far as the mayor’s wife and his older son, there’s no evidence to suggest they were involved with, or even knew, about the sex trafficking ring. Even so, I don’t see the state making him live there anymore.”
I vow right then and there, I will do everything within my power to make it so I can get custody of Sam. He belongs with family, and I’m the only one he has.
“Do you….” I swallow past the thick lump in my throat and will away the tears wanting to fall. I get up from my chair and roughly rub my sweaty hands down my thighs. “Are you taking him today?”
Understanding flickers in his eyes. “Not today. I want to go back to the station and make a few phone calls. The DA will want the photos, and he’ll more than likely stop by at some point to talk with you and Sam. With that said,” he adds pointedly. “You and Sam need to stay here.”
I nod, my eyes quickly darting to Wesley then back to the detective. “We’re not going anywhere.”
At least, I hope we’re not. I don’t think Wesley would make us leave, but how well do I really know the man? Maybe he’ll not want to be involved after hearing what the detective has said. His name is bound to come up in the investigation since we’re staying with him.
“Do you think Sam would be okay talking with me?”
I look over my shoulder toward the kitchen door. Sam isn’t too far beyond that door. We left him in the living room watching one of the Marvel movies. I hate to think of him reliving his real-life nightmare, but he’s told me multiple times he’s okay talking about it. He doesn’t like it, but he knows it’s necessary.
I swing my head back around. “Yeah, he’ll talk to you.”
Detective Erikson holds out his hand for me to shake, and I settle my palm in his.
“You have my card, call me if anything happens. And don’t forget to send me those photos right away.”
I nod. “I’ll do it now. Thank you, Detective. For everything.”
“Just hang on for a bit longer, Jersey, and everything will be taken care of.”
While he talks with Wesley for a moment, I go ahead and attach the photos to an email and send them over to the detective.
“I take it you no longer need my help at the church?” I hear Detective Erikson ask.
Looking up when I feel Wesley’s eyes on me, I find his mouth tipped up into a barely there smile. His gaze moves back to Detective Erikson. “No.”
The detective nods and moves to the door. He turns back before he walks through and addresses me.
“Spencer.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask, confused. I know it’s his first name because that’s what Wesley called him when he let him inside the house earlier, but I don’t understand why he would give it to me.
“Call me Spencer. Something tells me I’ll be seeing much more of you from now on, and not because of what you shared with me today.”
I don’t get the chance to ask him what he means before he’s strolling through the door. I turn my questioning gaze to Wesley, who’s standing with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. It’s weird seeing him in such casual clothing after only seeing him in his clerical outfit.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, he slowly walks toward me. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
He comes closer, and I don’t know why, but I walk backward. I’m forced to stop when my back meets the counter. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. Normally I don’t like people getting too close. I enjoy my personal space too much. But with Wesley, he could crawl inside me, and I’d be happy.
His hands settle on the counter on either side of my hips, his chin down while he gazes at me. I set my hands on his firm, t-shirt-covered chest, loving the hardness beneath my fingers.
“What did he mean when he said you no longer needed him at the church?”
One corner of his mouth tips up. He hasn’t shaved yet today, and I can’t help but wonder what the scruff on his cheeks would feel like against my skin.
“I called him when you first started taking food from the church.”
My eyes widen. “You did? You were going to have me arrested?”
“I didn’t know who it was. I had no intention of having you arrested. It was obvious you needed help, and I wanted to do more than just give you food. I wanted to know why you needed help. I would have tried harder to find you if I had known what you were doing on the streets at night.”
I drop my gaze to his chest, shame coating my cheeks from all the men I slept with. I’d do it all again if I had to in order to help Sam. I just wish I had listened to the inner voice in my head when I first saw Wesley. It whispered that he would help Sam and me. But I was so afraid to take any from anyone.
Using his finger, he lifts my chin until my eyes meet his.
“Don’t be ashamed, Jersey,” he says quietly. “You did what you felt you had to do to help Sam.”
My throat bobs. “Just so you know, I always used condoms when I… was with those guys.” Heat warms my cheeks. Wesley and I didn’t use protection last night, and I want to alleviate any worry he might have.
“I trust you.”
I frown. “Why? You hardly know me.”
He steps so close that our chests are pressed together. His hands move from the counter and they encompass my waist. With him so close, I feel the rigid length in his jeans. I want to rub up against it. Climb him like a tree and dry hump him until we’re both panting and feverish with desire.
“I honestly don’t know. I just have this feeling you were always supposed to be part of my life. That I was meant to be there for you when you needed me.”
His words have my heart racing. Not in fear or because I don’t agree. It’s the opposite, in fact. I have the same uncanny feeling that Wesley and I were supposed to meet. That our coming together when we did, my trusting him so easily, was something that was out of our control. Like some unseen force brought us together.
I move my hands up his chest and curl my fingers around his neck. I play with the hairs tickling my fingers.
Dropping my chin, I look at him through my eyelashes, suddenly feeling nervous.
“What exactly are we doing, Wesley? You’re a priest. A relationship with me isn’t something you can offer.”
We’ve already had sex, so he’s broken his vow of celibacy. I don’t know if that’s something he can come back from. Will the church forgive his transgressions? Will he still want to stay with the church if he can? I won’t ask him to give up something so important, no matter how much it’ll hurt to not have him again.
His arms tighten around me and his head dips closer. His lips are a hair’s breadth away when he whispers, “We’re doing what feels natural.” He presses a soft kiss against my lips then pulls back. “Twelve years ago, I took vows to never have sexual relations again. In those twelve years, I’ve never been tempted to break those vows. Until I met you.”
I love what he’s saying, but at the same time an intense feeling of regret and shame bounces around inside me. It was me who tempted him off his religious path. What kind of person does that? A horrible person, that’s who. He told me last night he made the decision on his own, but had he not met me, he would have never broken his word to the church.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly, meaning those words with all my heart.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” He gives me a half smile. “Jersey, do you find me so weak-willed that I would break my vows for just anyone? Vows that I never had any intention of ever breaking.”
“No. Of course not.”
“Good, because I’m a stubborn man and when I set my mind on something, I do it. When I promised myself to the church, I had every intention of keeping that promise. Only something very important to me would alter my path. You were that important thing. You are more important than my vows. I have every faith that God’s plans for me have set me on this new path.”
I bite my lip. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
After another minute of contemplation, in which Wesley’s eyes never waver from mine, I launch myself into his arms. My legs entrap his waist, and I press my lips against his in a scorching kiss. Had Wesley decided being with me wasn’t worth forsaking his vows, I would have accepted it. But I’m secretly glad he wanted me more.
After a moment of sucking each other’s face, I pull back, a big grin stretching my lips.
“This is kind of crazy, isn’t it?” I ask, only partly joking.
“Crazy in the best way possible.” With his hands on my ass, he grinds my center against the bulge in his jeans. “Crazy in the hottest way possible.”