I shook my head. “Nope, one will do. ‘Star’ did a good job.”
“What’s in the bag?”
I opened it up. “Some food, water, clothes, lotion. I wanted her to dress up for me and smell good. How much for an extra hour? I’m heading back out to sea tomorrow.”
He rummaged through the bag, and then squinted his eyes. “I give her to you for two hours free, for your watch.”
I didn’t hesitate to hand it over to him.
His face broke out into a smile. He motioned to me and led me down the hallway, to her door. Then he turned and left to lure the next jerk like me inside.
I paused before I opened the door.
One desperate plea. This wasn’t a Hollywood blockbuster or a New York Times best-selling thriller. I knew that this time there was no room for excuses, no margin for errors. I had one chance to put the cape on and be her hero.
The door squeaked. Annie was sitting on her cot, rocking back and forth, cradling her body.
Her head snapped to the side when she saw me. As her jaw dropped, I shut the door and put my index finger over my mouth, motioning for her to stay quiet. My eyes darted around the walls, scanning for a camera. Luckily, this low budget brothel was not high tech. The acidic smell of heroin made me gag. I glared at the floor and saw used needles under the bed.
She must’ve understood my disgusted expression because her chin dropped and she cowered.
I knelt beside her and traced my fingers over her tattoo. The image was ingrained in my memory; it was a perfect match.
After five years, extensive manhunts, and expensive private investigators, I’d found Annie Hamilton.
This time, she wasn’t wearing lingerie, probably because she hadn’t been called out to the line. She was clad in a stained white tee shirt and pink cotton panties.
I sat on the bed and held her hand. “Annie, my name is Patrick Walsh—I’m a Navy SEAL. I’m going to get you out of here.”
Her body trembled and she started shaking her head. But she didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry for running out of here the other night.”
I debated apologizing for paying her to give me a blowjob. But I wasn’t sorry. A, it was amazing. And B, I’d found her. That was all that mattered. Maybe I also hoped I could get a repeat performance. Wishful thinking considering her current state. I pushed the thought from my mind.
Annie sobbed quietly. But I could handle that. Being raised by a single mom, I’d comforted her so many times growing up it was as if I were the parent. Every time her heart broke, she lost a job, or didn’t have enough money for Christmas presents, I was the one she had turned to.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m going to take care of you.” I embraced her; her tiny frame almost disappeared in my strong arms. She buried her head into my chest. From now on, there could be no sexual contact between us ever again. But I wasn’t an asshole—she’d been through hell and back and if she needed me to hold her, wipe away her tears, and tell her everything was safe, I would do that. “You can relax. I’m not going to have sex with you, or make you touch me—that’s not why I’m here tonight.” I brushed back the hair on her face and handed her the paper bag. “I picked you up some things, clothes and stuff.”
Mascara ran down her face. She opened the bag and took out a sundress, fresh panties and a bra, and some coconut-scented lotion. I kept the necklace in my pocket.
Her tongue poked in her cheek and she swallowed.
“Put the dress on.”
She nodded, stood up and turned away from me as she undressed. I couldn’t stop staring at her tight little ass. Her sudden shyness surprised me, since less than twenty-four hours ago she had my dick in her mouth. I felt a dull pain in my chest. I hated myself for adding to her nightmare. At least I came back.
I needed to figure out her daily routine, how far gone she was on heroin, and try to make a plan. There was no intel team on the ground making action plans for me. I was in charge. And alone. No one to watch my back...or hers.
“Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit.”
I couldn’t risk making a call later to the FBI or smuggling her now to the embassy. I didn’t have time to conduct a full background investigation and go through the proper channels.
Maybe I should’ve told Vic. He would’ve known what to do. But Vic played by the rules. He would’ve never let me go rogue. Or accompany me to a brothel, for that matter. Vic was a good man, a deeply pious Catholic. When his wife cheated on him during our last mission, I didn’t know if he would make it. He spent every minute back in the States with his daughter, Carina. I knew he missed her like crazy. I couldn’t imagine having a child. My dad left before I was born, so I wouldn’t have a fucking clue about how to be a father.
Annie turned back toward me, dressed in her sweet yellow sundress, her hands fidgeting, as if she wanted approval.
“Sweetheart, you look gorgeous,” I offered. Though she was way too skinny, and her skin was speckled with bruises and welts, she was still sexy as hell. Her pouty lips curved up, her wild hair framed her face. I wanted to hike up that sundress, rip off her panties and feel her wet pussy clench around me, but I knew that I could never cross the line with her. From the moment I realized who she was, she became like any other job. She was nothing more than a mission to me now.
She sat on the cot next to me. I wanted to move over and put an invisible line of distance between us but I kept her close by my side. I didn’t want any temptation; I had a job to do.
I whispered into her ear. “I need to take a few pictures, okay?”
She just shrugged and I took out my phone. Took a shot of her ankle, her scar, and her face.
“What happened, Annie? Tell me everything.”
She remained silent. Her dilated pupils remained fixed on the wall.
I pulled her to me, and stroked her hair. “I’m sure they think that by now they’ve humiliated you so much you’d never consider running. You can trust me. But I can only help you if you let me.”
Her shoulders dropped and she blinked rapidly.
I didn’t want to talk about myself, but I guess she needed more from me in order to open up. “I believe you. I’ve gone through extensive training on reading people. I saw your tattoo, your eyes, your name. I checked out the new reports. Once I heard you speak, I knew you were an American, but I was spooked. I don’t run away from problems, I fix them. If anyone can save you, I can. But if I told my command I found you, I’d have to go to Captain’s Mass for going to a brothel, my career would be over, and then I’d never be able to get you out of here. And they would have to clear any rescue plans through the CIA and FBI, it could take months. I can’t just take you to the embassy with your pimp hanging around. The embassy is closed today anyway. I’m confident that I can rescue you; I just need some more info. So start talking.”
She still didn’t say a word.
I ran my hands over the scabs on her arms. “So the drugs, only heroin? How much do you do?”
Her voice trembled. “Yeah, heroin. Every other day or so. That’s all he gives me. I can’t stop, if that’s what you are asking. It’s the only happiness I have left.”
Right. I knew she was a junkie. Can’t say that I blamed her. “I get it. I’m not judging you. How long have you been in this brothel?”
“Don’t know. I’ve been traded a few times.” She paused and gave a blank stare. “Different islands, too. Aruba, Columbia, Venezuela. I guess in a way I’m lucky—my mom is Mexican-American and I speak Spanish so I didn’t stand out amongst the girls. When I was first kidnapped, they took me straight to Aruba for a year so I wouldn’t be found. But I was so fucked up, it’s all a blur.”
I had wondered how she’d survived so long. Her exotic looks and language skills must’ve helped her blend in with the other girls. “Are there any other American girls here?”