Lost Boys: Savage Cinderella Novella Series, #2

By PJ Sharon

Justin's friend Cody has disappeared, and Brinn is determined to find out why. Despite an escalation in the tensions between them over Cody and Brinn's complicated friendship, Justin agrees to join her on a journey that leads to the mysterious jungles of Colombia, where whispers of human trafficking bring them face to face with an old enemy.

Brinn and Justin join forces with friends to do the unthinkable—enter the dangerous jungle on a rescue mission, sparking a battle for the lives of eight young boys and a fight for their own survival. Brinn's haunted past rears its ugly head as she is forced to once again take on a brutal killer. But in risking her life to save her friend, will she lose the one man who has sacrificed everything for her? 

Follow Brinn, Justin, Cody, and a cast of new characters through a series of novellas (30-40k word short novels). Each story will bring a new adventure, another crime to solve, and more danger for Brinn and company as they delve into the world of human trafficking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PJ Sharon
• Release date: Dec 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386876755

PJ Sharon

In addition to her day job as a Massage Therapist, Personal Trainer, and Yoga Instructor, PJ Sharon is an award-winning author of young adult books, including PIECES of LOVE, HEAVEN is for HEROES, ON THIN ICE, and Holt Medallion winner SAVAGE CINDERELLA. Follow the Savage Cinderella Novella Series with FINDING HOPE, LOST BOYS, and SACRED GROUND. HEALING WATERS completes her YA dystopian trilogy, The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael, which RT Book Reviews calls “An action-packed read with a strong female lead.” Her debut non-fiction title Overcome Your Sedentary Lifestyle (A Practical Guide to Improving Health, Fitness, and Well-being for Desk Dwellers and Couch Potatoes) is a holistic living, self-help guide packed with easy to implement tips sure to motivate today’s sedentary masses toward a more balanced and active lifestyle. For more info on PJ’s books and updates on new releases, sign up for her newsletter or visit her website.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’m glad you called, Brinn. Dani seated herself on the park bench behind me under the shade of a large maple tree.

The balmy heat of late July settled on my skin. With temperatures expected to reach a blistering and swampy ninety-eight degrees by noon in downtown Atlanta, I figured an early morning run with Eliot to the dog park would do us good. I tossed a neon green tennis ball far across the field. Eliot bounded after it, his muscular frame and graceful stride covering the distance in a flash. He wrestled the ball away from Norm—a gangly Great Dane who was a regular at the park and who’d reached it first—and the two trotted off to play. 

Have you heard from Cody? I turned my attention to the newly promoted detective who sat patiently watching me, a look of concern already growing behind her eyes.

No. I haven’t seen him since last month at the hospital. He said he’d call... Strands of deep chestnut hair fell from a thick ponytail, and she tucked them behind her ears as she studied her bitten nails. But you know how those things go. She stood, tucked her hands in her pockets, and came up beside me.

I’d rarely seen Daniella Hernandez out of uniform, but I’d obviously caught her on her day off. Despite her rough around the edges attitude, even in khaki shorts, a New York Yankees T-shirt, and running shoes, she was stunning. Her Latina heritage gave her mocha skin a warm glow and her brown eyes an exotic look behind long dark lashes.

Well, he’s fallen off the face of the earth, I said. No one had talked to him since we rescued Hope Chandler from a human trafficking ring—the night Cody messed up and allowed one of the kidnappers to get a jump on him, knocking him unconscious while then deputy, Dani Hernandez, and I, saved the day. Adding a suspension from the FBI for breaking protocol yet again, I suspected his ego was bruised. I hadn’t expected him to go into hiding—although it didn’t surprise me. But that didn’t keep the worry from squeezing my insides into a compact ball of ice. He’s not returning my calls either, I finished, my tone more impatient than intended. Dani didn’t seem to notice.

His mother told me he left her a message that he was taking a vacation to Mexico, and he’d call her in a few weeks, said Dani. I contacted her after you and I spoke, she added, her cheeks flushing. I really shouldn’t be investigating Cody’s whereabouts. I feel a little stalker-ish. She had an obvious crush on my friend, but she wasn’t the stalker type. Her fierce independence and self-reliance were what I admired most about her.

I just need to be sure he isn’t in any kind of trouble, I said.

Dani’s expression turned grim. As usual, your instincts were right. I checked passenger manifests to Mexico for the date Cody told his mother he was leaving. His name didn’t show up. I did, however, find it on a list of passengers on a flight to Bogota, Colombia.

My heart sank to my toes. I was afraid of that. In unison, we both said what we were thinking.

Delgado.

Dani nodded, her dark brows creasing. I guess he couldn’t let him go.

Delgado, a mercenary for hire, was last known to be working for Javier Raez, a Colombian cartel leader heavily into human trafficking—among other things. Eleven-year-old Hope Chandler had fallen prey to Delgado, who’s mission was to kidnap and transport young girls from the United States to Colombia and deliver them to Raez—only to be sold to buyers all over the world. I shuddered to think of the countless innocent victims suffering such a fate.

The plan failed, thanks mostly to Dani, me, Justin, and Cody working together to thwart their escape with Hope via a private yacht—after nearly blowing us all to bits. To our collective dismay, Delgado had slipped through the fingers of not only the Coast Guard, but the FBI and local law enforcement. The man had simply disappeared, presumed drowned. Obviously, Cody remained unconvinced, ready to take matters into his own hands and track Delgado to his employer. A chill ran through me. Cody could not seriously be thinking of taking on the entire cartel by himself.

Once a Marine, always a Marine, said Dani, echoing my thoughts.

Eliot trotted over and dropped the slime-covered tennis ball at my feet, panting and wagging for me to throw it again. I tossed the ball hard enough for my shoulder to ache.

After two tours in Afghanistan and months in captivity at the cruel hands of militant forces—resulting in a significant case of PTSD—Cody had been forced out of the service on a medical discharge. A year later, after intensive therapy and a focused recovery program, the FBI recruited him. He was good at what he did, but his confidence had been shaken—especially by what happened the night of Hope Chandler’s rescue. Now I feared his need to prove himself would lead him down a dangerous path.

We need to find him, I said resolutely.

Good luck, replied Dani with a snort. If Agent Hansen doesn’t want to be found, I doubt we’ll uncover even a breadcrumb as to his destination once he landed in Colombia.

We’ll see. The gears were already turning in my head. If there was one person I trusted to find a needle in a proverbial haystack, it was Justin. Now, if I could only convince him Cody needed our help.

Considering he’d found Cody and me in the middle of a debatably innocent kiss not long before, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sway him. We’d all resolved the situation and chalked it up to poor judgment on Cody’s part and naïve curiosity on mine. The already strained relationship between the two men made me feel like a bone between two dogs, but as the knot in my chest grew, I knew I needed to do whatever it took to help my friend.

Chapter 2

Let it go, Brinn. Cody’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Justin moved around the kitchen with steady purpose, preparing a meal of pasta and meatballs—simple food that little more than a year before had seemed foreign and beyond my reach. A treat if I wanted to eat someone’s leftovers from a dumpster or indulge in the canned variety. Uncomfortable with the memory as well as Justin’s resistance, I tugged a sweater on over my chilly arms and sat at the breakfast counter, staring him down across the stove as he stirred the pot.

I know something is wrong. I can feel it.

His dark brown eyes darted up to meet mine and held for a long few seconds. The muscle in his jaw twitched. You can’t be serious. I sensed his ever-present patience dwindling. Gaining control, he stated the obvious—a thought which had occurred to me more than once. If Cody has gone underground in Colombia, presumably to take down Delgado and Raez, the last thing he needs is us getting in the way and blowing his cover. Turning his back to me, he opened the oven, allowing the scent of garlic bread to escape in a wave of mouthwatering heat.

But what if...?

The door to the oven slammed harder than I was sure he intended, but Justin spun and cut me off. He ran his fingers through thick waves of collar-length brown hair, leaned his hands on the counter, and met my persistence with maddening logic. Maybe he’s working undercover for the Feds. And even if Cody has been captured—which I doubt, he added with emphasis, there’s nothing we can do about it. He’s the responsibility of the FBI.

Just like your brother Steve was the responsibility of the U.S. Marines? I asked, challenging his assertion that Cody had somehow been responsible for Steve’s disappearance.

His jaw dropped but nothing came out so I continued. Cody, who had no choice but to take a medical leave when he did, was not responsible for Steve going missing. My voice had grown soft as I outlined the markings in the polished granite countertop with my finger. Justin’s older brother Steve was still missing, last seen leaving his post in Afghanistan, never to return and presumed captured or killed by insurgents.

Justin blamed Cody for not being there and the two of them had been at odds since. I understood both sides, but it was no excuse for Justin to turn his back on a friend. You’re doing exactly what you accused Cody of doing. You’re leaving a man behind to die or survive on his own. I lifted my gaze to study his response, hoping to hit home with the point. Justin’s eyes narrowed.

That’s not fair. And it isn’t the same thing at all. Justin turned to the stove again and pulled out the tray with the garlic bread, tossing it onto the stovetop with a clatter and shaking his hand. Apparently, he’d burned himself through the towel he’d used in place of a potholder—something I was more likely to do than he. Justin always seemed to be in control and have the answers, where most