“Are you healthy?”
She must’ve understood what I meant. “Yup. I repeated all the tests Vic gave me. Luckily, no STDs. Even in the brothel, I always insisted on using a condom. If the men refused to use one, I’d take the beating from my pimp rather than risk it. I always hoped one day I’d be able to escape.”
There was something about her now that I couldn’t figure out. A coolness. An air.
“That’s good. Are you going back to school?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t know. There are book offers I’m considering, but I’m not ready to tell my story.” She looked at me. “Our story. I want to get into some kind of sex trafficking activism.”
“That’s cool.” Despite my desire to take her home with me, I kept my distance. She didn’t need me dropping in and out of her life. I’d be leaving San Diego to train again in a few weeks.
She reached across the table and touched my hand. “I need another favor.”
Why the hell not? It’d been months. I grinned and squeezed her hand. “Let’s go. I’ll take you back to my place.”
She blushed. “No no, not that. Next time I’m with a man I want it to be special, to mean something.”
Ouch. I just laughed. Figured. That ‘someone’ special she had mentioned during Oprah definitely wasn’t me. What the fuck was wrong with me, now I was referencing Oprah? Annie had probably already reunited with Chris. I doubted she wanted some SEAL who hired hookers hanging around her. “What do you want?”
“Uhm, so, you can say no. But my dad wants to meet you and personally thank you for saving me.”
Fuck no. I clenched my fist. “Not going to happen, Annie. I assume you already told him how we met? Hi, sir. Well, yes, I visited a whorehouse in Curaçao and hired your daughter to give me a blowjob. No way.”
“He’ll love you! All he cares about is that you saved me. He was in the Navy. He understands.”
“Sorry, Annie. But the answer is no.”
“Please. Just this once then I’ll leave you alone. I promise. He just really wants to thank you.”
“You’re not going to leave me alone until I agree.”
“Pretty much.”
I couldn’t say no to her. “Fine. When?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Really? Thank you so much! Dinner tomorrow? At our house. Here’s the address.”
She had already written it down on a piece of paper. This full homecoming greeting was just an act to get me to do what she wanted. And I’d fallen for it, believing that she actually wanted to see me.
I’d meet with her family, alleviate the guilt they must have for not being able to save her. And then I was done. And this time I meant it.
17.
I drove my truck up the I-5 north toward Annie’s parents’ home in Encinitas. After almost a year at sea, the damn truck still ran, thanks to my buddies taking care of it. With all the money I’d saved up during deployment, I briefly considered upgrading it to a brand new Ford Raptor. Since I’d turned eighteen, I’d spent most of the past seven years deployed or out training. In all that time, with the exception of BUD/S, I’d spent a grand total of eight months in San Diego, broken into two- or three-week intervals. I needed to put down some roots, maybe buy a condo. But in this real estate market, the chances of doing that were slim. Why the fuck would I need roots anyway?
I arrived at the address Annie had written down for me. Sure enough, they lived in a beachfront multi-million dollar mansion. With all the money they seemed to have, why hadn’t they been able to rescue her? Just hire former SEALs to bring her back home—real SEALs, not some asshole pretenders. I knew a few security-contracting firms filled with former Team guys that could’ve gotten the job done. I’d sell every possession I owned to save my daughter. Give my life.
The grand gate opened and I pulled into their driveway. I glanced in the car mirror; I wore a collared shirt and khaki pants. I’d even shaved. Looked like a preppy asshole—should fit right in.
Annie came around to the side of my truck. I recognized her parents immediately from all the news coverage. Her father had a distinguished white beard and piercing blue eyes. Her mother looked like one of those reality television housewives—long, shiny black hair, chocolate almond-shaped eyes and porcelain skin.
I removed my sunglasses and stepped out of the truck. Her father observed me coolly, and offered a hand, which I took. “It’s an honor to meet you, Patrick.”
Her mother gave me a quick hug. Tears shone in her eyes as she looked up at me. “Thank you for saving my baby.”
“You’re welcome. I wasn’t alone. My guys helped.”
“But you came back for her.” Her mom hugged me again and I could smell her strong perfume. “You brought our Annie back home.”
“Okay, Mom, can we at least go inside before you start losing it?”
“Of course, baby.”
I followed Annie up to the elegant entry stairs. The view of Moonlight State Beach from the living room blew me away. This home had to be worth at least three million dollars, which made the alarms in my head go off. My mind raced. Why hadn’t they sold this beachfront home and moved into some place that was more modest? They could’ve used the money to save Annie, offered a bigger reward. What the fuck was wrong with these people?
Her father stood in front of the bar. “So Patrick. Can I get you something to drink? A martini perhaps?”
Who did they think I was—James Bond? What twenty-five-year-old guy drinks martinis? I grunted. “Thank you, sir. That sounds great.” Fuck. I didn’t even know how to talk to these people.
I studied Annie as she sat with her back erect on the white leather sofa and bit her French-manicured nails. If her parents had seen where she had been living for the past five years, they would’ve had heart attacks. Well, I’m sure some tabloid would return to Curaçao and try to retrace Annie’s steps, expose what had happened to her. At least the brothel burnt down, so her parents could never know how bad her existence truly was.
But I did. And I would never forget it.
When I looked up, I met her father's eyes. He'd returned a few moments prior and by the narrowing of his eyes he must have seen me watching her. Great.
Her father handed me the martini, his cold eyes assessing. “Can I have a word with you on the deck?”
The martini even came with the standard-issue blue cheese stuffed olive. Bonus. I took a sip of the dry liquor. I suddenly got the feeling that I would probably need all the libation I could get.
“Sure, sir.” I followed him out to the redwood deck. I’d rather be interrogating a terrorist than be alone with this former naval officer. I downed the rest of the martini.
I breathed in the salty ocean air. I would never own a house like this. My own one bedroom apartment could fit in the size of their guest bedroom.
“So, Patrick. Annie told me everything that happened. How you met, how you rescued her. I’d like to thank you for your service.”
My service? “It was the right thing to do.”
He reached into his pocket and placed a folded piece of paper in my hand. “This should cover your expenses.”
I opened it. It was a three hundred thousand dollar check, made out to Patrick Walsh. I’d be able to help my mom out, buy a new truck, put a down payment on a condo. Pay off debt. I could live a fairly comfortable life for years on the amount of money that I held in the palm of my hand.
I didn’t hesitate to hand it back to him. “I can’t accept this.”
Mr. Hamilton laughed and shoved the check back into my hand. “Yes, you can. I knew men like you in the Navy—pieces of shit who would cheat on their wives with hookers. I hope that you can leave us alone to heal. In private.” His eyebrow rose. “Annie has been through enough. Seeing you is a reminder of her past. How you used her, forced her to get you off. I don’t want scum like you hanging around my daughter.”