Free Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) by Pamela Samuels Young

doesn’t shock you, huh?”
    No, it didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good to share with Dre the atrocities some of her young clients had shared with her. She hadn’t heard of The Shepherd, but she was well-aware that kidnapping and pimping girls—the younger the better—was now big business.
    Neither of them spoke for a while, comforted by each other’s presence even though they were miles apart.
    Angela was now as scared for Dre as she was for Brianna. She knew the kind of man he was. Dre would do whatever it took to get his niece back. Whatever it took. He would not sit back and rely on the police for help. That was not in Dre’s DNA.
    A thought came to Angela. One that might help Dre find Brianna. “What’s Brianna’s phone number,” she asked, reaching for a pen and paper from the nightstand.
    “Her number? Why?”
    “Just give it to me.” She didn’t want to tell Dre what she planned to do for fear of giving him hope that might not exist. She scribbled down the number.
    “What do you plan to do next?” she asked.
    “Hit a few more spots after daylight. I’m basically trying to call the dude out. I hear he’s got a huge ego. He’ll get in touch with me. Eventually.”
    “Dre, these sound like really bad people.”
    “I can be really bad too.” He paused. “When I need to be.”
    They were face-to-face again with that gulf between them. The good girl-bad boy dichotomy. Opposites attract, they say. Dre would never be able to erase his criminal past and Angela would never be able to fully accept it. Especially, when it reared its menacing head, like now. So why was she trying to start things up with him again?
    “I’m scared for you,” Angela blurted out, her voice quivering.
    “And I’m scared for Brianna,” Dre replied. “I’m not worried about me or my life. I just want to save hers.”
    “Promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”
    Dre didn’t respond and Angela waited.
    “Exactly how do you define crazy?”
    Angela sighed.
    “If these sick-ass cats do have Bree, my response won’t be crazy,” Dre said. “It will be a perfectly sane reaction. Not your kind of sanity, but the sanity of the streets.”

Chapter 17
Day Two: 3:25 a.m.
    A fter his call with Angela, Dre left Compton and drove back to L.A. He pulled into the drive-thru of a 24-hour Starbucks off Figueroa near USC and ordered a venti caramel macchiato with three extra shots.
    “You have a very nice voice,” the female barista purred at him from the speaker system.
    Dre shook his head. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to be hit on.
    When he pulled around to the window, the clerk leaned out over the counter. “What’s your name, handsome?”
    Dre stared into the eyes of a cherub-faced teenager with a pierced tongue. Her heart-shaped lips were pale pink and she had on enough black eyeliner to patch a pothole. She looked almost as young as Brianna.
    “How old are you?” Dre barked at her.
    The girl jumped back, startled by his harshness. But it took her only a few seconds to regroup. “I’m seventeen,” she said, puffing out her chest. “And how old are you, Mr. Cutie Pie?”
    “Too old for you to be flirting with me.” He flung a ten-dollar bill across the counter and through the window. “Give me my dang coffee!”
    “Dang! Somebody sho’ got up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
    When the girl handed him his drink, Dre snatched it from her, spilling it all over the side of the car door. He sped off without waiting for his change.
    The clerk made him think of Brianna. He couldn’t bear to think of his niece being held hostage in some grungy motel being raped by some sicko. He briefly closed his eyes, wishing he could erase the horrible images from his head.
    As he drove, Dre debated whether it made sense to go this alone. Especially since he wasn’t strapped. If he was going to confront The Shepherd, he would need backup. He’d also need some backup with balls. Too bad his brother Anthony was such a