Justice For Abby Read Online Free PDF Page B

floor. She unclasped her strapless bra and replaced her evening clothes with the maroon camisole she’d designed and sewed herself one afternoon while she was bored.
    Sliding the covers back, she lay down, resting her head on the pillow, closing her eyes, willing thoughts of Lorenzo from her mind. There would be no more fear tonight. Every night she fell asleep afraid, Lorenzo Cruz won.

Chapter Three
     
    Jerrod stared after Abby as she rushed to her room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Abby had gone from fire-eater to terrified so quickly he didn’t realize something was up until it was too late. He looked from her partially opened door to the security bar resting in its place, clenching his jaw, recognizing that the latest safety feature must have triggered some sort of flashback. “Way to go, Quinn,” he muttered, pissed at himself for putting that wild fear in her big blue eyes. If he‘d been paying attention to Abby instead of clicking the bar in and out of place, he would’ve seen that something was wrong.
    “Damn.” He shook his head as he picked up the candles and set them back in place. First her encounter with Darren and now this—definitely not what she needed. Abby was doing a lot better, but she was still fragile. Two emotional jolts in one night didn’t help, especially when she would see them as setbacks.
    Don’t! Don’t touch me!
    Her words echoed through his head, as did her frantic shove to his chest. He’d witnessed some of Abby’s worst moments, but this was the first time she’d ever directed her fears toward him.
    Swearing again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out at the dozens of partygoers still roaming the streets far below. He should’ve mentioned his plans to add the bar instead of springing it on her the way he did. He knew better, but Adam’s e-mail this afternoon left him more concerned about Abby’s safety than her horrific memories.
    His old roommate and Fugitive Task Force team member sent word that authorities in Las Vegas were investigating a possible sighting of Victor Bobco. Potential dangers threatened Abby every day. She was a walking target no matter where they went, yet Adam’s latest heads-up had him more on edge than usual. Credible tips had come in before, but this threat was different. Vegas was too damn close, and Abby’s schedule was ramping up with the trial date moving closer and Fashion Week only six weeks away.
    Keeping Abby out of the spotlight was more important than ever. Zachary Hartwell was dead, and Lorenzo Cruz was set to take the fall as the primary leader of the most prolific and powerful sex ring the Mid-Atlantic authorities had ever seen. The Federal Prosecution had been unsuccessful in convincing Blondie Williams, Eric Stevens, or the hordes of other bastards on the ring’s payroll to turn state’s witness and testify, which left Abby in the hot seat. She alone had toppled the ring with the access she’d had to financial records and the organization’s inner workings, which she shared minutes after her rescue.
    Brothels and stash houses throughout Baltimore, DC, Philly, and into Jersey had been raided and shut down. Dozens of victims had gone home and several more arrests were made, but two key players remained at large, and they had everything to lose if Abby survived to testify. Victor Bobco and Dimitri Dubov would hunt for her until they silenced the ring’s most damaging witness. And Victor was potentially no more than an hour and a half away by plane.
    Jerrod pulled a hand from his pocket and rubbed at the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the painful knots of tension. He and Abby had managed to live off the radar after their return from Maryland in July. The Ethan Cooke Security team had taken every precaution Jerrod adhered to during his three-year stint with the US Marshals’ WITSEC program after Abby refused witness protection and only agreed to testify if her sister was left out of the