Stephanie's POV
I've been living in Hell for the last month. Never did I think that my life could be worse away from the Burg, then it was in the Burg. First, I had bumped into Joe. Well, that wasn't a bad thing. I knew for a while that Joe didn't finish SEAL school. Cal told me as much since they were in the same class. I had a meeting in conference room D that morning and noticed that there were no more manilla folders or legal pads in the room. We always need those items when running meetings, so I decided to restock it. Little did I know that Morelli was waiting to meet with his COs. I noticed him when I exited but pretended I didn't see him. I didn't want to confront him, at least not at work. When I returned to my desk, I got back to work. I was busy that day, investigating a possible supply chain of heroin into the States, through one of our Army bases. I was so enthralled in reviewing my notes that I didn't notice Morelli in the elevator until it was too late. When he propositioned me, I had enough.
I noticed that his uniform was a little snug around the middle. I know he has a propensity for donuts, meatball subs, and pasta, not that I can blame him, but he has an aversion to exercise. I'm surprised he kept up with standards while enlisted. Then again, COs do remind us to complete our PT. When he paled at my mentioning of him failing SEAL training, and then again the PRTs, I almost lost it. I guess I hit a home run there. I was feeling a little better after my confrontation, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Then, Lester arrived home, alone, without my Carlos. About a week later, a body came, one charred beyond recognition, with Carlos's dog tags. There was also a report stating the DNA recovered from the remains was a match to Carlos. As much as the Army told me that the remains belonged to Carlos, in my heart, I knew that it wasn't him. There was no head, so there was no way for us to compare dental records. That was the first thing that caused my Spidey sense to tingle. Secondly, I still felt Carlos. I can't explain it, but we have a connection. No matter where he is, I can always feel him. I knew he was alive. I spoke to Lester, trying to determine if there was any way for us to confirm that the remains belonged to Carlos without dental records and a positive DNA match. As we were talking, I remember a story Carlos once told me.
When he was about eight, he got a new bike. He thought he was invincible. So, being a dare-devil, he would ride his bike around Newark without holding onto the handlebars. Well, he did well until he hit a bump, then he went flying. He ended up with a broken right ulna. That would be something that we could confirm from the pile of bones that was sent home to us. When I contacted the ME, he was at first hesitant to listen. But eventually, I persuaded him to look at the arm bones more closely. I called Mama, got her to send copies of the x-rays. It helps that she has worked for the hospital in their medical billing department. Once the ME re-examined the remains, he concluded that the body sent to us was not Ricardo Carlos Manoso, but that of an unknown male. I was encouraged at the news, and the rest of the family was relieved. I, though, was concerned about who would be able to switch the DNA records. Who wanted us to believe that Carlos was dead? It was that discovery that made me march my way into my superior's office.
I demanded that my superiors read me in on the mission. Initially, they placed me on the team investigating Carlos's disappearance. Still, once they dots connected the dots that I was Lieutenant Manoso's wife, they dismissed me from the group. I needed to be back on the team. No one would be able to find him other than me. From my discussions with Lester, we concluded that Captain Carter was most likely behind Carlos's abduction and subsequent disappearance. The hard part was now gathering the intel we needed without alerting Carter. Thankfully, Lester bumped into an old friend from college, Hector Morales, who is a genius with electronics. I remember the day I met him well.
I had just gotten home from work. I was tired, scared, and preoccupied with trying to find my Carlos. I pulled into the driveway, parking my car without taking in my surroundings. Lester was home, after all, so I knew I'd be safe. I drove myself to work that day because Lester needed to report for a physical readiness assessment. I got out of the car, grabbing my purse and leather briefcase. I locked my car doors and proceeded to the front door. I unlocked the door, letting myself in where I placed my keys on the key hook above the entrance table where I would stash my briefcase and purse. With those tasks completed, I take my gun off, placing it in the drawer after unloading it. I had a gun in my bedroom, one in the bathroom, and in the kitchen, all of them loaded and ready. This one was my workpiece, so I left it here. I didn't want to deal with the paperwork if I happened to shoot someone with my service weapon.
I just slipped off my heels when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I knew someone was watching me, and that person was not Lester. I closed my eyes to concentrate on any sound that was made, which was minimal, I'll admit, and braced myself to defend then counterattack. When the unknown man was within striking distance, I turned, executing a perfect round kick, followed by a jab-straight combination to the abdomen. I was just about to follow up when Lester grabbed me.
"Woo, Jersey, relax. He's friendly. I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Mr. Hector Morales."
I extended my hand to him, embarrassed at my response, but instead of being angry with me, he smiled.
"Chica, the pleasure is all mine. Ranger and Lester told me you were a formidable opponent. Still, I didn't believe them that someone who looked as fabulous as you do could be so lethal, and while pregnant."
"Beautiful, I told him." Lester quickly explained. "It was the only way I could get him to help us. We need his expertise."
"What is your area of expertise, Mr. Morales?"
"It's Hector. Computers, bugs, and electronic surveillance. I got here about two hours ago, swept your house. There were three bugs placed throughout, plus a couple of cameras. Don't worry, Angel, none of those cameras were in private areas. I found them in the kitchen, the living room, and your office. Your special screen protector is good; nothing can be read from a distance on your computer monitor. There have been several attempts to hack into your system, but your encryption is holding up so far. Who set up the firewall?"
"I did. We've been sweeping for bugs and cameras and haven't found them. How did you manage?"
"I have several devices that I've created for that purpose. They are more advanced and more sensitive. They pick up a lower level of electromagnetic radiation that is emitted from said devices. I can also scramble the signal, so nothing can be heard, in essence, jamming them."
I take a good look at Hector. He's about my height, darker than Lester but lighter than Carlos. He appears Mexican. He has dark hair, cut short, but not crewcut short. He's muscular but hides his physique with baggy, loose-fitting clothes. He had the look of a gang leader and has two teardrop tattoos under his eye. He's killed, and I don't doubt that he'll kill again. My instincts are telling me that Hector is a good guy, and we can work with him. However, my training is telling me to investigate him further, find out his secrets, confirm his story. I love Lester, and I trust him implicitly. But with the stakes so high, I'm not about to agree to do anything that could jeopardize my Carlos. The baby growing inside me needs their father as much as I need my husband.
"So, Hector, you are telling me that we are free and clear right now. No eyes or ears."
"Yes. We are clear."
"I'm going up to my room to change. Lester, please bring Hector to the kitchen. I'd like to get to know Hector a little better before reading him in."
"Okay, Beautiful. Hector, my brother, come with me. We'll have a snack while we talk. Steph will be done quickly. She's not the typical girl where it comes to primping and prepping if you know what I mean."
I shake my head. If Lester thinks I have any intentions of making myself look good, he's mistaken. I am dead tired, the second trimester is killing my ability to stay awake. I'm merely going to put on maternity yoga pants and one of Carlos's t-shirts with a maternity support tank. Gone are the days of walking around braless. I pull my hair into a ponytail and head back downstairs. As I go to sit in a kitchen chair, I have second thoughts. "Let's move this party to my office. I need a better place to sit."
We walk up to my office, where I plop my pregnant backside down on the day bed, reclining in a much more comfortable position. I feel sleep trying to overtake me, but I push it away.
"Hector, tell me about yourself. Why do you have those tattoos? Please don't evade or lie. I will find out the truth eventually. And you don't have to worry about me reporting you. It doesn't matter to me that you've killed, I just want to know the justification for it."
I watch Hector wage war inside his head. Then, he gets up and starts pacing.
"I came to this country when I was eight. My father worked hard to bring me here with my sister. My mother followed us two years later. We didn't have a lot of money. The legal fees to pay for our citizenship were high; but worth it. I lived in Newark, in one of the many Hispanic communities. I got sucked into gang life when I was thirteen. It gave me status, it gave me a sense of importance. I was so wrong.
"I was making a name for myself, rising up in the ranks. Too quickly, because the other gangs took notice. Then, one evening, my sister, who was a year younger than me, was recruited by a rival gang. You see, one of their leaders took an interest in her, made her feel pretty and sexy. She wasn't often looked at in that fashion. She had frizzy, curly hair was a little on the plump side, and was very forgettable. Her friends were all lookers, so Esmeralda often felt left out. When she was doted on, courted, and eventually brainwashed, she was too much into the fantasy that was created. The other leader never intended to make her his girl, never intended to keep her. He was using her to try to undermine me, to break me. Only it didn't work. When I finally got through to Alda, it was too late. She found out she was pregnant at only fifteen. I was livid. When Alda went to confront the baby's father, the other gang leader, he told her that she was worthless. She overstayed her use, and now, she needed to disappear. He denied that the baby was his, claiming that she slept around, which Alda did not do. So, to punish her, he allowed his lieutenant to have Alda, and she was raped.
"Alda was angry, hurt, and her self-esteem was shattered. My father was disappointed but willing to help Alda raise her baby. My mother took it as a sign that we were to move back to Mexico, at least she and Alda. When my parents told Alda that she was returning to Mexico and would live there to raise her baby, she flipped. She loved New Jersey and didn't want to leave. She ran out of the house, hysterical. I searched for her all night, but I didn't find her. Instead, two days later, she returned home, bleeding. She somehow had an abortion, done not by a reputable doctor. I'm not even sure the butcher was a doctor. We rushed her to the hospital, but we were too late. She had lost too much blood. She died four hours after we found her.
"I later discovered that Esmeralda was driven to the doctor by the other gang leader and his second. They held her down while the "doctor" cut her open without anesthesia, without cleaning the area first, without cleaning his tools. She screamed and yelled, hoping for me to find her, to rescue her. When she was done, they dumped her three blocks away, making her walk home in her weakened state. I saw red. I waited until after Alda was laid to rest; until after my Mama returned to Mexico after my father moved away, to exact my revenge. I found the two bastards, and I killed them. I tied them down, opening their veins so they would bleed to death slowly. I watched as their life ended.
"However, their death did not bring back my sister, nor did it take away the guilt and pain. So instead, I vowed to leave the gang life behind. It wasn't easy getting out, but I did. I went to school, made something of myself. Now, I still have connections, still have those who are loyal to me and always will be, so I often slip into my gang persona to gather intel. I met Lester two weeks after I killed the fuckers. He helped me cope, helped me to deal. I learned then that Carlos was part of that rival gang, but he was too young to be involved with Alda. Word on the street was that he wanted to get caught, he wanted a way out. If that is the case, I have a tremendous amount of respect for him. If that isn't, I still respect him for being able to escape the clutches of gang life without consequence."
By the end of Hector's story, I'm sobbing. Damn pregnancy hormones. I ease myself up off the bed and walk over to Hector. I kiss the two teardrops, "I know Esmeralda is in a better place. I know that she is happy where she is. She is thankful that you avenged her, but I know she wouldn't want you carrying this guilt around. It wasn't your fault. You tried to protect her, you tried to save her, but you couldn't. Those were her choices. Now, are you ready to help find an Army rat?"
With Hector's advanced bug detectors and jammers, we were able to have conversations about Captain Carter without his knowledge, as well as planting misinformation. We made Carter believe that we suspected that those loyal to the drug lord who Carlos had taken out had him. We had tons of intel on this Cartel, and it was a great way of lulling him into complacency. That lead to him making mistakes, mistakes that allowed us to find who had Carlos. I made the connection to human trafficking before we had any substantial evidence and started hunting the dark web for information on Carlos.
Early in October, there was a lot of chatter about a superb specimen coming to auction within two days. Based on the descriptors being shared, I suspected it was Carlos. On October 5th, Carlos went up for auction. Thankfully, we had already planned his rescue with the team in place before the sale went live. My job was to continue to bid, to make sure interest stayed high, to prolong the auction. I needn't worry. When his stats were shared, all bets were off. I never saw numbers climb so high so fast. Now, I guessed that Carlos is well-endowed, but having only had sex with two men, and seeing one other penis, I really didn't have the expertise to know just how lucky I am. But from the chatter of those bidding, he was wanted.
Right now, the rescue team is in position, ready to infiltrate the compound where he is being kept. I am listening to the coms, waiting for any word on Carlos. I listen to the banter as Lester leads the team in, taking out the guards on the perimeter, then the guards closer to the cells. I hear the woman, who runs the operation, give her orders to fire, but before I could hear any enemy fire, she's is shot dead. My heart is pounding in my chest. Where is Carlos?
I'm still watching the auction. It hasn't been pulled yet, which is a good sign. Suddenly, I hear what I've been longing to hear for nearly five months, "Ranger, your escort is here."
"Santos, gracias Dios. I need clothes." That's it, I heard his voice. The sweetest sound I've ever heard. Tears start to fall down my face, tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of fear. I know that I came so close to losing my love. Now, I need him to return to me.
Today is my twenty-third birthday, and I still haven't seen Carlos. I was allowed to talk to him for exactly five minutes on October 6th, but that was it. I am so anxious to see him. I'm scared that he won't be happy to find out about our baby. I'm afraid that he won't find me desirable anymore. I'm worried he won't want me that he'll reject me because this was not part of our plan. I try to push those thoughts out of my head, but it's hard. Even though I am still in therapy, I can't help those old feelings of inadequacy from taking hold of me occasionally. I was told there was a possibility he would be released today, his debriefing finished, so he can come home, but I'm not holding my breath. We do work for the government, after all.
I somehow manage to get through the day and head down to my car. I get in, driving that familiar route home, feeling melancholy. I know Lester is planning a birthday feast for me. I will try to smile and have fun, but I know that I will just be pretending. I won't truly feel happy again until Carlos is home.
I park my car in the driveway, gathering my bags as I do every day. I enter the house, seeing no signs of life. I put my stuff away, then head up to the bedroom to change, and I consider taking a nap. Once I arrive in our room, I take off my fatigues and slip Carlos's shirt over my head. I forgo pants and decide to crawl under the covers. I'm exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. I close my eyes, falling asleep immediately.
