About half an hour later, they reached Zelise. Its population sign said 30,000 people, compared to Rakima's over 300,000. A little smaller than Odyssey. But unlike Odyssey, it had seen better days. Perhaps its present state had something to do with the lake on its outskirts; most of it had dried up and there was just a small muddy pool in the center. Dilapidated old boats sat moored by fraying ropes to collapsing piers. A few boats sat marooned in the center, slowly sinking in mud.
A few clusters of well-manicured suburbs huddled on the edge of the town, but as Jason drove further in, he saw more and more houses with broken windows, crumbling siding, swaybacked front porches and rusted chain-link fences. Downton, only a few buildings had stores in them; most were either falling apart or looked like homeless people or criminals were set up in them.
"Wow," said Connie, facing the passenger window. "I wonder if the king knows about this."
"He must know," said Jason. "Maybe he hasn't visited in a while."
"Maybe he should."
"Seems like this town is more a center of crime than Rakima." Even many of the police were corrupt, except, hopefully, the ones they'd be meeting. Perhaps they should focus on this place… as rough as it looked, it was where the most kids were in despair. If the king wanted to tackle the source of human trafficking, he should probably start here….
They pulled up to the police station, which was a small brick building. It looked in pretty good shape, except for a few bricks that had crumbled off. Jason parked in the back parking lot, which was hidden from the rest of the city by a fence and cedar bushes. He felt a little better; at least the police station wasn't as dilapidated as the town.
They walked up to the back door they'd been directed to, and an officer let them inside. Another policeman escorted them to an interview room. Jason's heart thumped hard as he heard the lock click. He turned to Connie, wanting to protect her, but she didn't look like she'd noticed. She wandered around the room, looked into the one-way window, which was a mirror from this side, and smoothed her hair back. "Ooh, I look awful." She straightened her white shirt, smoothed her tan pants.
He walked up to her, slid his arm around her waist. "You look beautiful." He kissed her temple. "The messier the better."
She elbowed him. "Jason!"
"I mean it." He slid a strand of hair back over her shoulder, its softness, her silken skin, distracting him from his dread. But he couldn't quell the trembling of his hand.
She grasped his hand, pressed it to hers, as if trying to stop the shaking. "Jason—are you okay?"
"I—I don't want to scare you. But I think they locked the door."
She stepped over to it, tugged on it. Looked back at him, paling a little. "Maybe that's just…what they do here."
"I hope so. I thought the police station would be safe—" He looked askance in the mirror, not wanting to reveal too much to whoever was watching and listening. How long would they keep them here? Jason would protect Connie no matter the cost. But there weren't many options—no escape. His heart drummed hard, drowning out the sound of the air conditioning. At least they hadn't handcuffed them—and there were chairs he could use as a weapon….
Connie came back to his side and slid her hand gently against his back. "It'll be okay. I didn't get a bad vibe from those police."
"I…didn't notice… I'm just…" He sighed, admitting it was probably nothing. Nothing more than his PTSD acting up. Pressure clutched his chest, making it hard to breathe, but her touch calmed him a little, made it bearable. Though if she were in danger, and he just fell apart—he wouldn't be able to help her…
She rubbed his back, massaged his shoulders, slid her hand down his arm, anchoring him with her touch. He took deep breaths, closed his eyes. She slid her fingers over his hand, gliding gently over his wrist, his fingers, tracing each feature, caressing his scars, accepting them wholly as part of him. Breaking apart the panic, letting him know how deeply he was loved. Her fingers slid softly into his hair and tears spilled from his eyes, tears he hadn't known had been building, his throat tight. She wiped the tears away, not ashamed of them, but just another dimension of her caring touch. She rested her hand along his jaw, her thumb gently caressing the scar on his cheek, lingering over it, infusing it with her love. Her green eyes gleamed bright, unshed tears in them. Love more powerful than words beamed from her face—love with no reservations, beyond anything he deserved or imagined.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him and he gathered her to him, and they held each other as more tears slid down his cheeks, tears of relief, of release. Her presence, her love, blazed away all panic except its shadowy vestiges. Just a small prick of dread lingered—never quite extinguished since his torture, enhanced by the situation. And her presence helped him—but also made him worry she might get caught up in something he couldn't protect her from—
Crush down all weakness. I have to banish any debilitating fear by sheer strength of will. Can't let this win. Have to protect her at all costs.
He caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror, her beautiful form embraced in his. He couldn't deny they seemed to belong together… at the same time, he was hardly worthy of her. People had called him good-looking—notably Connie (for the first time) when she'd revealed a crush on him. He didn't exactly see it—he was not the handsome being his brother had been. And he felt out of sorts, out of sync with his own body since it had nearly been pulled apart. And then there were the scars. He could accept them as part of him, but he didn't see how they enhanced his appearance as Connie had suggested…. He supposed most people weren't satisfied with their own appearance. Still, compared to her…
She slid gently away from him and stood with her arm around him, unabashed admiration on her face as she studied his reflection. "We look good together," she said.
He nodded. "You're the sunshine to my shadow," he said.
She nudged him with her elbow. "You're gorgeous. Don't let you or anyone else tell you otherwise. I'm beautiful in your shadow." She laughed.
"Like the rainbow."
"What?"
"The rainbow today. It framed you… didn't make you more beautiful than you already are, but—showed off your beauty."
"Oh. I just know you're stunning and I—well. If I didn't know this was a window instead of just a mirror…."
"We could give them a show." He kissed her cheek.
"Jason!" She looked shocked but her eyes danced. "It would almost be worth it… just being this close to you… alone… or, sort of alone…. I just… can't stand it. What if this was our last time together?"
"Then ….just in case…." He kissed her lips delicately.
"Maybe they're not even watching." She pressed her lips to his.
His hand met the back of her neck, slid up into her hair as her kiss grew to a frenzied pace he could barely keep up with. He grasped her waist, lifted her onto the table, still kissing her, his heart drumming with delight – he didn't care where they were, he just knew he needed her. Of all wonderful things—to be loved so fully—his fears erased—
He caressed her waist as her hands buried in his hair, sweeping through it, tangling in it, her lips maneuvering over his in an expert dance. Her kiss tasted of iridescent light—
The door clanged open. Jason's heart crashed. He tore from her, turned his back to her, shielding her from the intruder—
A woman in a black shirt and jeans tilted her head, looking at them with the wry hint of a smile. A tall, uniformed officer stood beside her, stoic beneath his hat.
"Hello," she said in a light accent. "I thought I'd better interrupt before things went…any further. Although Ellis here liked the show."
"Ma'am—" he protested.
"In any case, we'd better get down to business. Sorry I left you here so long; we were having some difficulties, which have since been ironed out. I don't blame you for…wanting to pass the time. The door was locked because I didn't want anyone unauthorized to intrude. When you have a station as under siege as ours is—you can't be too careful. And you needn't worry, only myself and Ellis were privy to the viewing room."
"That's…good to know," said Jason. He cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed he'd let his feelings take over…but at the same time, he didn't regret it.
"I'm Lieutenant Estelle Bauer. I'm in charge of a small task force not many are aware of; it's sanctioned by the chief, and she's one of the good ones. So you don't have to worry about your involvement spreading to corrupt elements. As far as they're concerned, you're witnesses we're interrogating, if they know even that much. We'll keep this discreet. No one will know you'll play a central role, especially if you're good at shaking a tail."
"That's one of my specialties."
"Good."
"What do you mean by—play a central role? I thought I was to be in a supporting role."
"It'll be supporting our operation. But your involvement is crucial. Unless you'd rather not, in which case we'll find someone else who has no previous association with us."
"What would you need me to do?"
"Criminals, especially savvy ones, can smell a cop a mile away. So it couldn't be one of us. We could use an informant—but it's best to use a professional. I understand if you'd rather not…. but if you really want to help…"
"What's the role?"
"All you need to do is show up, basically. As long as you can keep your cool, keep up a basic façade, you should be fine. The transaction, if all goes well, shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
"Transaction?"
"You'll be paying him for a girl. We've already paid him part of it online. All you have to do is pay the rest."
"And then you'll trap him?"
Estelle nodded. "It's best if he says something incriminating so we have an airtight case. If you don't mind, keep him talking a little longer than the transaction warrants so we can get some good evidence. Build up a rapport, if you're up to it. Dogan said you're a former agent, so that should be pretty par for the course for you."
"Where would I meet him?"
"At a hotel your persona arranged with him. It's one of the roughest hotels in the city, where these types of things are commonplace. I've wanted to break up that rat's nest a hundred times but haven't had the resources. At least now—if you're willing—"
Jason glanced at Connie who looked at him with apprehension and trust. "My wife—could she stay here?"
"Either that or come with us in one of the support vehicles. We have a feeling there may be more children he's trafficking nearby, so if we get any evidence of that, those are the vehicles that'll take care of that angle."
"What do you think?" Jason asked, looking at Connie.
"I—I'd rather go with."
"You're sure she'd be safe?" Jason looked at the lieutenant. If anything went wrong…. If there was the remotest possibility—
"She'd be with the best of the best. And they won't be on the front lines. I can't guarantee anything, but… we might be able to use an extra hand. Are you an agent too?"
Connie shook her head. "I want to help, if I can."
"You'll follow my orders and keep out of trouble?"
She nodded. "What about Jason? He'll be safe?"
"We'll be close by, listening in, and ready to intervene in case anything goes wrong." She looked at Jason. "You're up for this, then?"
He thought for a moment. It sounded like it had a significant potential to go wrong…. There were unseen variables he wasn't happy with. But if it meant snatching a girl from the clutches of a trafficker—this was exactly what he was here to do. And it wasn't like he didn't have backup.
"I'll do it. Who is the girl he is selling?"
"We're not sure of her identity yet. Seems like she's one of the lost ones, one of the kids people don't care enough to keep track of. Kohl sent us a picture of her; that's all we've got. We'll know something more definitive when we have her.
"Now. Let's get you prepped."
"Prepped?"
"We can work with this—that scar's a nice touch. We've already got a foundation for rapport."
Jason cringed inwardly at having to build a rapport with the trafficker—but it was all for a good cause. He'd have to slip back into the skin of an undercover operative. Become his persona in order to rescue a child from a horrific life.
Estelle ordered the officer to retrieve something. Then she stepped closer and reached toward him. "Do you mind?"
"What is it?"
"Just—" She ruffled his hair, teasing some strands down over his forehead. Then she tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it slightly askew. "A little dirt won't hurt either – we want you to look a seedy character. Not the easiest to do…." She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Jason resisted the urge to smooth his hair and straighten his collar. He glanced at Connie, who was glaring suspiciously at Estelle. Of course, it was all professional, but he didn't blame her for feeling jealous. If a man had touched her in the same way, even if there was no hint of anything untoward, he'd be burning in barely constrained rage.
As if to reclaim him, Connie ruffled his hair a bit more, undoing Estelle's work and turning it into a different but equally messy style. Estelle pursed her lips. "Mm, that's even better."
Jason looked in the mirror. He did look a rather roguish character. His messy hair enhanced the scar, framing it and drawing attention to it. He rumpled his green shirt a little more and made a mental note to smear some dirt or dust on his clothes when he got the chance.
"Beautiful," said Connie. She pressed her hand to his shoulder, kissed his ear. "My beautiful secret agent," she whispered. Her breath sent a shiver through him.
Estelle took a suitcase from the officer who had returned and handed it to Jason. "Here's the cash."
"So it's not online?"
"No, he wanted the second part in cash. You ready?"
Jason nodded, though he felt this was happening a bit too fast.
I can do this. I haven't lost all my edge. If I can't be spontaneous, I'm not myself anymore. I won't be able to accomplish miracles, but she's right, I should be able to tackle a routine task. Not much can go wrong in a few minutes, can it?
Well…. it's less likely, anyway.
After they replaced one of his buttons with a tiny bug, he headed out in a rather beat up brown car that the police had provided. He drove out of an alley then onto the street toward the hotel. A piercing ache pounded through his heart at every beat—he missed Connie desperately, hated being without her, unable to protect her. It's a routine mission, he told himself. As long as you keep your head…you'll be fine and you'll get back to her.
Which means—you have to stop thinking about her. Get into your persona. Forget she exists…. Well, leave her beautiful form in the shadows. Or the sunlight, for I'm going into the shadows…
As he neared the hotel, he could already sense its darkness. It was a large gray monstrosity that loomed over several blocks of dilapidated brick apartments. Its windows were small and seemed to suck in light rather than reflect it. As he drove closer, he could see people hanging around it, some talking, some smoking. A homeless man sat on the corner with a cardboard sign that said Anything Helps in red marker. He had to drive slowly just in case some of the people decided to step off the sidewalk. Then one of them did, a tall blond woman in high heels, red glittery shirt, and short red skirt. She stepped straight for him and he had to slow down to avoid hitting her. She made the sign to roll down his window. He shook his head; she pouted, then as he drove past, waved his rear view mirror.
A shudder trickled through him. He'd been in some pretty dark places, some similar to this…. Being propositioned always made him feel sick, as if they could see something in him he didn't, some inclination to take them up on their offer. Even if he had ever been tempted before— which he couldn't recall—he definitely wasn't now that he had all he could ever want. To throw that away for one night with someone he didn't even know? Why men ever did that mystified him. Knowing what these women went through also made him feel more sorry for them than anything. Even if they weren't trafficked, they were often preyed upon, they came from the most vulnerable, and they were still often forced to do things that hurt them. Their life was dangerous and often short. He wished he could help rescue them too…. But his priority right now was the little girl.
He parked in the parking lot and went inside. The foyer was surprisingly well-kept and clean, though the rug was a bit worn and the front desk had a few scuffs on it. He requested the key for the room the police had already paid for and headed up the stairs to the second floor room Leon Kohl had agreed to meet him at—room 206.
The door had a scrape on it, showing damaged plywood underneath. A hotel like this probably bore a lot of damage… He crept inside, careful in case this was a trap of some sort. It did make him slightly uneasy it was on the second floor… he'd have to jump if he needed to get out fast. He took his gun and slid open the curtains to reveal the window, which looked out onto the parking lot. Quickly, he checked the closet, then the bathroom, and finally behind the shower curtain. He'd never found someone hiding in the shower, but he'd always had a slight phobia of someone hiding behind the shower curtain… he hoped it wasn't a premonition.
The rendezvous wasn't for another fifteen minutes, which gave him time to settle into his role. He found an old cigarette butt on the tv and lit it with his lighter in order to give the room a lived-in feel. He'd always hated the smell of cigarette smoke, even more so since Gray had used cigarettes to torture him, but he wanted to go the extra mile here, be as prepared as he could be for those few minutes with the enemy.
Jason let a few ashes fall onto his shirt, then smeared them around a bit. Smudged his cheek slightly. Then he checked the mini fridge beside the TV. To his delight there was half a bottle of vodka in it. He took a sip of it, let a little spill on his shirt, then set the bottle on the lampstand before flopping into the bed and turning on the TV. He flipped some channels before settling on one he thought his persona would like: wrestling. Jason wasn't averse to watching it either and got a bit into the fight, cheering on the underdog. He was a bit too absorbed in the game because he barely registered a knock on the door. Then his heart leaped as he realized who it probably was.
"Yeah, who is it?" he said, his voice somewhat roughened by the sip of vodka and the cigarette smoke. Good. He wasn't playing himself. Best to create a little more distance between himself and his persona.
"Room service," said a sly male voice.
"I didn't order any—Oh. Right." He rushed to the door, his heart pounding. Keep your cool. This is what you've prepared for, many times over.
He opened the door. A blond man stood there, a strand of hair dangling over his forehead past his scarred cheekbone. He grinned, showing a gold right front tooth. On his arm clung a young woman. She had brown hair that cascaded over one eye; the other was large and brown and frightened. She wore a long red dress that clung to her slight body. She couldn't be more than fourteen.
Rage slammed through Jason; he had to fight to rein it in, to not let it show in his bearing—or to at least translate it into an appalling eagerness.
"Hey—that's real nice," Jason said.
"Told ya. Gonna let me in or-?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." Jason gestured and stepped breezily into the room. "Would you like anything? I've got… some vodka left…."
"I'm here on business."
"I've got the payment."
"You're satisfied?"
"Oh, yes, she's better than the picture. Looks younger."
"Well, you said you wanted young but not too young, so…."
Jason looked at the girl, shivering in the center of the room, her arms crossed. His heart went out to her, but he couldn't show her any compassion yet. "She's beautiful."
"One of our most exquisite. Barely touched. Just picked her up last week. Pristine and ripe for the picking. The most elite of our exclusive girls—we don't sell girls like this for mere pittance. She's the real deal—the kind we specialize in. I hope you're very happy for months or even years to come—your very own special little girl to do with as you please. If she's not completely satisfactory, part of your money back—or you can choose another to your liking." He sidled up to the girl. Twined his hand in her long hair. "Ah, but I doubt you'll have second thoughts." He slid his hand down her arm; she flinched. Jason had to stifle the urge to jump to her rescue. Kohl must've sensed something, for he laughed. "Don't worry, I won't take my share first. Though I've been tempted…. We don't despoil our pristine girls. Our guarantee—why we sell our first-timers for so much. They're genuine."
"You mean—"
"We prime them, of course. Show them the ropes, get them familiar with certain things.. So the girls can minister to your needs the best possible, so they have a bit of a repertoire and aren't little innocent blank slates, carbon copies of each other. We like to give each girl a unique touch, a flair that they only get after training with us. Our…brand." He laughed again, a supremely unpleasant thing, and tugged down one strap of the girl's dress.
Jason gasped involuntarily. No—he didn't want this to happen. But Kohl only rubbed the top of her shoulder a little—though she flinched and on second glance there was a small mark there which still looked raw. A wave of horror swept through him when he realized what it was. A brand.
Blackness swam in front of his eyes; he had to fight to concentrate. Images flickered through his mind as if through a slide carousel—Gray burning him—
White-hot agony searing his side—
Screams roaring through his skull—
"So." The voice snapped him back to the present. "Your package includes an optional demonstration. Would you like it or—would you like to just get down to business?" He smiled lasciviously.
He would have liked to just say no, but he didn't want to seem too eager to dismiss Kohl. "What does the demonstration include?"
"Don't worry, we don't go all the way. Just preview a few of the things she's proficient in, our special little touches."
Jason's stomach flipped over. He had to fight to mask his feelings. "No—that won't be necessary. I'd rather…find out for myself."
Leon slapped Jason's shoulder—a twinge of pain shot through it. Fortunately, Leon didn't seem to notice his flinch. "Most people opt for the surprise. I have to admit, I like it when they choose the preview." He nudged Jason with his elbow; Jason hated that this man thought they had anything in common. But that was his goal, after all; the police were waiting somewhere close, listening in, and would swarm in at the opportune moment. Perhaps they were waiting until Leon stepped out the door; they probably didn't want to risk hurting the girl.
The police probably had enough evidence. Time to get this man out of here and show the girl she was safe.
"I'll get your payment." Jason reached under the bed and grabbed the suitcase.
Leon took it, laid it on the bed, and popped it open. He rifled through the stacks of bills, then nodded. He slammed the suitcase shut. The girl jumped at the sound and backed into the corner, hunched over. Jason had to resist the urge to go over and comfort her. She probably wouldn't appreciate any sudden moves in her direction.
He wanted to let her know in some way he wasn't a threat without acting too out of character. "What's your name?" he asked her.
She merely looked at him with large, startled eyes, then huddled on the chair, bunching her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. Her hair almost obscured her face.
"Her name's Reina," said Leon. "Not her real name, of course; we've been having trouble making her accept it, but she won't tell us her real name either." He took out a camera from his pocket and set it on the TV.
"What's that for?"
"Didn't you read the fine print? We need something else from you. Insurance."
Jason tensed. "Insurance?"
Leon spread out one arm. "You see, we've built a foolproof system. To protect ourselves and our clients. We don't want anyone breaking our ring up. It's too lucrative to collapse and have to build up again. That would cost us—a lot. And it could jeopardize clients like you. I'm sure you won't mind being filmed. Most people, if they're genuine clients, don't mind because they're used to it, and they get to keep a copy. If they're a do-gooder, we'll see right away they don't intend to follow through. If they're a cop, and they actually do follow through, we can blackmail them. If you cross us in any way—well. We'll take her back and you won't see a mina of the money. The video will be spread online to anyone who has control over your fate. You seem to be on the up and up though."
His eyes strayed to Jason's scar. Why did scars always have to mean you were the bad guy? They just meant you were damaged in some way… well, Leon probably saw it a mirror of his own scar, which likely came about because of some fight or other….
"I'm…not really comfortable with this. Do you have to leave it?"
Leon shrugged. "The alternative is to take her back with me."
He had to find a way out of this. The camera would show he wasn't who he pretended to be…. But if the police caught Leon, it would be a moot point.
"The other alternative is to pay more and just have me sit in on you—"
"No—I'd rather not." Best to get Leon out of here, away from the girl.
"Take it slow, tackle her, beat her up—just let me see some action." He chortled. Snatched up the suitcase, gave a mock salute, and headed out of the room.
Jason breathed a sigh of relief when the door shut; he went over quickly and locked it. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least he had a short amount of time before Leon would realize something was up. And it was a relief just to be out of the presence of someone so blatantly evil.
The girl was, if possible, even more terrified. She had no idea he was undercover and had no intention of hurting her—and every intention of helping her no matter what the cost. Her arms shook as she huddled down even further in the chair.
"What's your name?" he said, making no attempt to advance closer. "Your real name."
She glanced up at him, then her eyes darted away. Tears streaked down her cheeks, tracking mascara and eyeliner and revealing freckles beneath the heavy paste of foundation.
Jason crouched down, remembering how terrified David had been, how much patience and gentleness was warranted.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He had to be careful and not scare her, but somehow get her to trust him so she would go with him if he needed to act fast. How could he show her he wasn't a threat? She'd probably heard people say they wouldn't hurt her, but broke their promise soon afterwards…
He crawled over to the wall by the TV and sat there, not looking at her. What exactly would Leon do? Would he come in guns blazing? Would he have more accomplices with him? They were probably getting suspicious by now… how to divert that suspicion, how to stall him…
He stood, hitting the TV, knocking the camera to the floor. The girl gasped. Jason kicked the camera under the bed then crouched down. He took out his phone, brought up the photo app. Flipped through to pictures of Connie, pictures of him with her, of him with his father. He showed them to her then slid the phone over to her so she could look herself.
She hesitated, her eyes startled as she stared at him for a moment. Then cautiously she reached down and picked up the phone. Though her fingers trembled so hard she could barely control, them, she slid through the pictures and seemed to relax a little, smile at some of them, although a puzzled crease appeared in her forehead.
"Who…is this?" she said, her voice tremulous, barely above a whisper.
Jason ventured a little closer, careful to look as non-threatening as possible. She cringed back against the chair, fear flashing across her eyes. He spread out his arms, bowed low to her as if she were a queen. A real one, not the mockery of the name they'd given her. A twinge twisted through his damaged hand; he resisted the urge to pull it back to himself, to hide it. He stretched it out to her, let her see the full extent of mangled flesh that had healed but left lingering scar tissue and nerve damage ….
His hand trembled a little; he looked away, unable to stifle the shame, still, that twisted through him when he thought of being nailed helplessly to a wall. He had been completely at the mercy of a cruel man—as she had been. He wanted to let her know, if possible, he knew humiliation and defeat, even if it wasn't exactly the same kind. His scars weren't a banner of pride, of a fight he'd won, but of one he'd lost. They were vulnerability, and he was giving her the power over them. They were empathy, at least akin to it, and he was offering them to her.
He knelt there for what seemed like an eternity, his legs and arm beginning to shake from the awkward position.
Then, a soft touch at the center of his palm, near the scar. He flinched; he couldn't help it. Even though he'd only felt the very ghost of a touch, because he couldn't feel much at that spot.
She drew back, afraid. But at the same time, a look of wonder and of sympathy crossed her eyes. "Wh—what happened?"
"Someone hurt me. I was bound—I couldn't escape." His breaths rasped through his throat as he fought the images and feelings crowding in on him again. He couldn't let them overwhelm him, but at the same time, he had to use them to help her.
"You?" she looked incredulous.
"I was caught off-guard…. They knocked me unconscious—"
"Same with me! They—" Her throat caught and she fell silent, her eyes straying to the window fearfully. She looked back at him. "Wh—what did they do to you?"
"They hurt me—they—" He hated getting into specifics, but she deserved the truth. "They beat me. Whipped me. Pounded a nail—here." He clutched his hand to his chest, pangs writhing through it. "Two nails…" He took a deep breath. Knelt down onto the floor, hunched over, energy drained out of him. He'd have to be careful— not let it take over so he couldn't move—he didn't always have total control over his reactions even after over a year since the last incident. "They…burned me….cut me—" He shuddered, pains raking his body even as he knew they were not real.
"Th—they burnt me too." She brushed the area near her shoulder, though she didn't touch the still raw wound.
"I'm sorry we were too late to stop it…."
"Did they….hurt you… in other ways…" She swallowed, looked away. But it was clear what she meant.
He shook his head, thankful that hadn't seemed to be on the table. Though Gray had just gotten started that last time… perhaps he wasn't the kind to go…to a certain extent, but he probably wouldn't have been averse to torturing more…sensitive areas; after all, that was a common theme for brutal interrogators….
"They—I mean—" She took a deep breath that ended in a sob, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes, smearing the makeup. "I…I'm glad they didn't…do it to you."
"I'm here to get you away. So no one forces you to do anything like that again."
Hope bolted through her eyes. "Really?"
He nodded. "We have to get out of here." He whispered, hoping the camera wouldn't pick it up. "Will you come with me?"
She frowned, as if thinking for a moment, then searched his eyes tentatively. Guarded trust dawned on her face. She nodded.
"Will you do what I tell you?"
Fear sparked across her eyes again, but she nodded. Swept a generous strand of hair back from her face, damp with tears.
He stood. Brought out his gun. Her eyes widened; he kept the gun at his side and she looked reassured. He looked out the window; just a few people hanging out in the parking lot, lost in a rather contentious discussion. None of them were Leon, and if they were undercover cops, they didn't look very alert, though you couldn't always tell…
Too bad there was a sheer drop and not an awning or something. He'd have to go through the hotel, the narrow corridors.
He held out his hand for the phone, careful not to move too close to her. She stared at him, uncomprehending, then slid the phone tentatively into his hand. Her arm darted back, and she clasped her hands.
The picture on the phone was a selfie of him and Connie at the waterfall in Paraguay. It hit him with a keen ache of longing.
"This is my wife, Connie, and me on our honeymoon." He showed her the picture again. "I'm Jason, by the way."
"Jason," she said, pronouncing the syllables carefully. Her eyes lit up. "My name is…" She hesitated, as if she wasn't sure she could trust him, then said, "Tatiana."
"That's a beautiful name. Let's get out of here, Tatiana."
She nodded, hope gleaming in her eyes.
He slid his phone into his pocket and kept his gun ready. Swiftly he glided over toward the door, motioning for her to come with. She slid to her feet rather shakily; he wished he'd have been able to wait and perhaps give her some food to get her strength up, some kind of mild sedative perhaps, but they were on borrowed time as it was.
Sure enough, just as he reached the door, someone knocked on it. Jason's heart pounded hard.
"Who is it?"
"It looks like the camera was knocked over. Unfortunately, it stopped recording completely. Will you let me in to take a look? See if it's damaged?"
"Ah, sorry about that. I'll check it, get it back up and working in no time."
A pause. "All right. Just have it running within a few minutes. Otherwise, we'll have to break down your door. Sorry to interrupt, but this really is a nonnegotiable policy."
"Sure, just a minute."
Jason turned; Tatiana backed away. Jason stopped, spread out his arms, letting her know he had no intention of doing what he'd said.
"I have an idea. Will you trust me?"
She nodded, her eyes wide.
He flipped back the bed covers, yanked off the sheet and mattress cover. Quickly, he took out his knife and stabbed notches in the sides at even intervals, then tossed the sheet to Tatiana.
"Can you rip them?"
She nodded and ripped the sheets while he did the same with the mattress cover. The tearing sounds were loud but that couldn't be helped; they had to get out fast. Then Jason tied the sheets with a knot he'd learned in Boy Scouts and tied the end to the bed, which looked sturdy enough. He hadn't done this particular maneuver since high school when he'd gone out to a party with a girl he'd liked when he was grounded…. That had resulted in being grounded a lot longer than a few days…
He tugged the makeshift rope over to the window and opened it, letting the fresh air in. There were only a couple of people left in the parking lot. He hoped they weren't on Leon's side.
He grasped part of the rope and gestured for Tatiana to come over.
She shook her head, fear blazing through her eyes.
"I'll get you out safe. I promise."
She walked over tentatively, looked down. He reached out for her; she backed away. "I can't."
"It's not that far. I'll hold you."
"I—I just can't!" Fear sparked through her eyes; she leaned her head in her hand, tears spilling over her cheeks.
"I'll protect you with my life."
She looked up, her eyes incredulous. She didn't make a move toward him. He didn't blame her that she couldn't get close to a man after what she'd been through.
A knock at the door. "If you don't start recording in one minute, we're breaking the door down. Sorry, but we can't take the chance you're not one of us."
Tatiana shuffled over to Jason, terror tensing her entire body. He reached out for her; took her hand. She flinched but didn't back away.
He tossed the rope out the window and climbed out, then gestured for her to join him. Shakily she crawled out, holding onto the sheets, and he grasped her around her waist. She closed her eyes, trembling, tears pouring down her cheeks and further diluting the makeup. Under it, she looked even younger, a sweet innocent girl who had been dragged into darkness. Now, he had a chance to give her her life back and he wasn't going to mess it up.
Cool wind blew through his hair. He slid down the rope, careful to hold her firmly but not too closely, mindful of the source of her trauma.
Pounding on the door in the room above. Harsh frantic voices.
He shimmied down as fast as he could, using both hands while holding Tatiana. She looked scared, but clung to his shoulder, trusting him despite her fear.
Almost three fourths down, a man in the parking lot strode toward them, lifted a gun. A gunshot rang through the air. Tatiana shrieked.
"Hey—" he said, his heart slamming against his chest like the echoes of the gunshot, "We're gonna have to jump."
"Jump?"
He nodded. Let go of the sheet, plummeted downward, holding tightly to her, praying he'd land on his feet.
His shoes hit pavement. He stumbled a bit but stayed upright. Let go of Tatiana then whipped out his own gun. He strode in front of her, blocking her from the advancing man.
Another gunshot; it zipped past his ear, heat radiating from it.
"You have some property of ours." The man stopped about ten feet away, his pistol held out casually in front of him. "Give it back, and we'll let you go unscathed."
"She's no one's property." Anger seared his voice.
"A shot through you might hit her. Leave now and we won't have to risk that."
Jason lifted his gun, aimed at the man's knee. This close, he could be reasonably sure of hitting the target he wanted. And he didn't want to kill this man. "Leave and you can avoid…some serious damage."
"You're out of your depth. "
"On the count of three. One… two… th—"
"All right, I'm going!" The man backed away, holding out his arms placatingly. He looked around as if to check for backup, but the parking lot was deserted, including of the other man who had been there.
Jason turned to Tatiana. She was leaning against the wall, pale, looking shaken.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She looked at him, uncomprehending. She was in shock. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, tell her it was all right now, but that would do more harm than good in her present state.
"My car's just over here. Can you walk?"
She stared at him a moment longer, then realization dawned on her face and she nodded. He held out his arm to her and she shuffled toward him. Her legs were shaking so hard he thought she might collapse. At least if she were close enough, he could catch her—
"Hey," said a voice from above. Leon leaned on the window sill, his blond hair dangling out of the window, a gun held in one hand, aimed at Tatiana. "I get it, you paid for her, you can do with her what you want. Still—you understand my stipulations. I can't be sure you're not a cop. In fact, by your actions, my suspicions seem pretty close to the truth."
"I'll always protect kids from disgusting pieces of filth like you."
"Ooh, what an epithet! You wound me." He pressed his other hand to his chest in mock pain.
Jason lifted his gun, ever so slightly, but Leon jerked his gun, clicked back the safety. "No sudden moves. She's valuable—but then, her death would be worth getting rid of an informant. You've got some kind of camera of your own, am I right?"
Jason felt no need to enlighten him.
Leon shrugged. "Even so, I'll let you go if you leave her with us. It goes without saying we keep the money. You get to keep your life. We'll go back underground, emerge elsewhere. No lasting damage, no hard feelings. Except—if we see you again—I might just shoot you because of that annoying self-righteous look on your face. And because, you know, people don't just cross us and get away with it. I'm in no mood for a shootout. I've got the clear…high ground. So—go to your car, keep an eye on us while you do—leave this girl here. She's in no shape to move anyway. There's only one thing she's good for." He grinned.
Ice sleeted down Jason's spine. Horror at what the man implied. What would happen to her if he left. He had to get out of this with Tatiana—but Leon did have the advantage. Where were the police? They had to know what was happening, unless the spy camera was malfunctioning somehow… and they definitely knew which hotel Leon was at. Perhaps they were corrupt and had trapped him with these criminals for a price…
The car was just a few yards away. There were a few cars in between… he could use them as cover. Distract Leon somehow. Most importantly, protect Tatiana from him.
"What guarantee do I have you won't shoot me before I get to my car?" said Jason.
"My word, of course." He laughed.
"I think I need something more concrete than that." He stepped slowly toward her. "You'd rather keep her alive so you can earn more money, right?" He lifted the gun, mentally begging her forgiveness.
"Easy there."
"Like if I use her as a hostage…" He grasped her arm; she flinched and gasped. He drew her closer, his heart breaking at her trembling, at the hurt in her dark eyes at his apparent betrayal.
Then he whirled around. Swept Tatiana behind him, blocking her from Leon's line of sight and lashing his gun hand upwards, simultaneously pulling the trigger before he could truly aim. A bullet blasted into the wall, spraying shrapnel of siding. Leon flashed back inside the window.
Jason grabbed Tatiana's arm, slung her over his shoulder, and ran. A gunshot rang out—he half-expected to stumble with the searing pain of a bullet in him.
But he reached the first car and ducked behind it, shoving Tatiana to the ground as gently as he could.
A gunshot rang out; pinged against the metal of the car. But now, he had a shield. More gunshots—booming in rapid succession. Tatiana covered her ears.
Jason looked through the car windows to see a rough path to aim and shot from behind the car's fender. The gunshots stopped; he risked another foray, carrying Tatiana and crawling to the next car.
Another furious hail of gunshots—one shattered the glass of the car he was using as a shield. Tatiana crumpled into a ball, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth.
"Hey," he said, in a lull in the storm, "we'll get out of this. I'm not leaving you—no matter what."
She peered between threads of long dark hair and nodded. Swiped the back of her hand over her cheek, wiping away the tears.
One more car. Unfortunately, there was a space between it and his car. At least it would be harder for Leon to aim at this angle…. He grasped Tatiana's hand and this time she ran with him and crashed to her knees behind the next car, a red Ford with a dent in the side. Gunshots rammed into it, putting more than dents into it. He hoped it was the car of one of the criminals.
One more stretch of space. The beaten up brown car was a distant beacon. Jason grasped Tatiana's hand, putting himself between her and the bullets. Then he popped up from behind the car and slammed off more gunshots. She ran on her own, stumbling, perhaps tripping on that ridiculous dress they'd put her in and crawled behind the car—as he could see from the corner of his eye.
His bullets from the second cartridge were almost gone. One more—he dashed it off for good measure as Leon kept up the barrage and then slid behind his car. He opened the door, guiding Tatiana inside; despite how she shook, how her arms were scraped, she moved quickly and crouched on the floor of the passenger seat. Jason crawled in, keeping his head down, twisted the ignition and pressed down the accelerator, guiding the car around the others in the parking lot.
Boom! The burst of shattered glass. Behind him, the rear window was gone except for a few shards clinging to the edges. More bullets pinged off the sides and rear of the car—he was pretty sure a tail light had shattered as well.
He sped out of the driveway and onto the street then roared down the road and away from the sinkhole of a hotel forever.
He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart pounding. Looked at Tatiana; she looked up at him, bewildered, startled.
"Hey—you're safe now." He patted the passenger seat.
She crawled up into it and tried to put her seatbelt on. But her hands were shaking so much the belt wouldn't clip. Careful to keep his eyes on the road, Jason helped her, buckling the seatbelt securely. She looked at him with puzzlement and wonder. "I'm—I'm free?"
"You're free."
"You—you saved me."
Unexpectedly, his throat tightened. Her voice was just so incredulous that someone would help her; after all she'd gone through, she probably thought she wasn't worth saving. That everyone was out to use her and get whatever they could out of her. Now she knew at least one person saw her as she truly was—a human being of infinite value, a little girl who should be playing and enjoying life instead of sinking into darkness that was inescapable for so many.
He drove toward the police station; if there was another rendezvous point, he hadn't been told. Before he reached it, he pulled over at the edge of the mud lake, near a rare stretch of green. He called Estelle to make sure.
"Lieutenant—" he said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.
"You've got her?"
"Yes. Where were you?"
"We were…delayed. We've got Kohl now, but he barricaded himself in your room. The others kept us tied up in the hallway. Sorry we weren't able to get to you, but it looks like you were able to hold your own."
"I could've used some backup."
"We would have gotten to you if we could. We also had to deal with some other accomplices outside the hotel…. We've got it all under control now, doing a mop-up and bringing them in. We'll see you at the station."
"Is Connie all right?" His heart flipped over, hoping she hadn't gotten involved in the mess—sounded like the mission hadn't gone how they'd planned, although that often was the case….
"She's fine. Our task force was worn thin… half of us at Leon's apartment. Despite the friction, the operation was a complete success. No casualties, minor injuries—you've rescued the girl—"
"Tatiana."
"Tatiana, and we've rescued ten more at his apartment."
"Ten?"
"Yes, apparently he brings them there, conditions them before selling them to the highest bidder. We've collapsed a major node of human trafficking—thanks for your assistance."
"Don't mention it."
"Your wife was also helpful—she calmed some of the kids, got them to go with us without a fuss."
He wasn't surprised but was gratified to know others had seen what she could do too. "Where will the kids go?"
"Well, as Ali might've mentioned, the orphanages here are a joke, and we don't want to filter the kids through the police department. If you could, would you take them back with you to Rakima? Ali can send a car, but if you would take them, it would save time. And once they're there, his therapists can help glean information from them."
"I suppose… I don't have a car large enough."
"We can lend you the van. One of our officers can take your car back in her free time."
He drove to the police station and parked in the back. Jason told Tatiana they'd be leaving soon and going somewhere safe. Although something nagged at the back of his mind. How safe could Ali's place be? It looked great—the kids seemed to be doing well. But Ali was a criminal… unless he'd reformed, or unless the Muldavian Security Service was wrong about him…. perhaps the charities were just a cover—the teen place seemed wonderful too, nothing underhanded there. Places to make Ali seem magnanimous and beyond suspicion. If Ali was a good guy, it would explain his giving them a valuable tip…. Unless that was part of the game too. Ali always seemed to be playing some kind of game—Jason hadn't caught him in an outright lie or doing anything underhanded. But the way he acted, the way he phrased things… even the way he'd caught Jason last night, though he hadn't done anything to him… something was wrong. Jason had a feeling he'd sense that even if he hadn't known about the Hawk's background….
How could he give someone he'd just rescued to someone like that? On the other hand…where else could she go?
She would probably be sent to the teen place. That would be a healing place in the country…. If they had enough room. First, she'd probably have to go to the hospital, and then a place to rest, then, maybe, some gentle questions… there were probably many more out there, distributed to their…buyers… it made him feel sick just to think about it.
Tatiana leaned back, looking exhausted. He wished he could give her something to drink at least, but he didn't want to go into the police station.
A few minutes later, several police cars arrived and a van pulled up beside them. Jason stepped out; he motioned for Tatiana to follow.
The driver climbed out and handed Jason the keys. "Your wife's in the back. Drive careful, no seatbelts back there." He headed into the police station.
Jason helped Tatiana into the front seat, then looked in the back. Sure enough, there was Connie, surrounded by a bunch of kids. One was cradled in her lap. Several others huddled in groups, clinging to each other. Most looked no older than twelve. Some of them regarded him with unabashed terror.
"It's okay—we're going somewhere safe," he said, hoping his tone would reassure them more than his words—words didn't mean much to kids who'd been abused. "Connie— are you all right?"
She nodded. "I didn't go in till they took out the bad guys. Did you run into any trouble? You didn't get hurt?"
He shook his head. A few scrapes from the pavement, some cuts, probably from the glass, but nothing major. "It got a bit dicey…. But we escaped. This is Tatiana." He gestured to her, careful to not make any sudden movements.
"Hi, Tatiana. I'm Connie."
"Hi," said Tatiana softly.
Jason then sped down the road, away from the dead lake and away from the town, happy to be heading toward a place where the kids could embrace their freedom.