As he twisted my arm, I lifted the other, clenched into a fist, and slammed it into the man’s jaw so forcefully he fell back against the RV.
I heard commotion from inside the RV and grabbed the guy by the hair, then placed the gun to his face just as the door slammed open and someone else—every bit as nasty as the first one—came outside, armed to the teeth with a rifle, pointing it at me.
“Give me the girl, or he gets it,” I said, hoping the guy I was holding was the brains and not the guy with the heavy gun. I needed him to be indispensable.
“Let him go,” the guy said.
“Girl first,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest. I prayed he wouldn’t notice how badly the gun shook in my hand. Sydney refused to carry a weapon, even on our missions. She hadn’t grown up shooting the way I had since she grew up in London as opposed to me in Florida. I had asked her if I could take her to get lessons, but she didn’t want to. It could have been useful now.
We were in the middle of a power struggle here, and I wasn’t sure I was winning. His gun was a lot bigger than mine, and I wasn’t sure he even wanted to keep this guy at the end of my gun alive. He lifted it to his eye and aimed at me.
“I don’t take orders from little ladies.”
His finger moved on the trigger when I noticed movement behind him. Someone—a young girl—jumped him from behind. Her hands were tied with rope, which she placed around his neck and pulled him back. The gun went off into the air, and he growled loudly as he fell back. I let go of the knocked-out guy in my hand, then rushed to help her. The big guy had managed to pull the rope off his neck and was soon on top of the young girl, letting the punches fall on her face and body. The girl screamed as he rained his fists upon her. I ran as fast I could and threw myself at him, crashing into him. We tumbled to the floor inside the RV. He grabbed my leg and pulled me as I tried to get away. One quick kick caused him to fly to the side. I pulled the girl away from him, still holding the gun in my hand, shaking in anger, while she ran outside to Sydney. I lifted the gun, then turned it and used the grip. I slammed it on his head a couple of times until I was certain he’d stay down at least long enough for us to be able to leave.
Then, we ran for the minivan.
Chapter 3
The girl was shaking and crying as we skidded sideways into the road leading to the bridges, then floored the accelerator to get as far away as possible from this place.
Sydney sat with her in the back, holding her in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re taking you to a shelter now. You’re free. They won’t be able to get to you anymore. It’s over.”
I looked at her in the rearview mirror. It was dark now, so I couldn’t see her properly, but she couldn’t be much more than fifteen, the same age as my oldest daughter, Olivia. In the coming days, she’d be nurtured back to life by our staff at the shelter, but it was going to be tough. She’d have to talk and tell us everything about how she ended up where she did, and that wasn’t easy for these girls. Many of them had left their homes voluntarily because they thought that something better was waiting for them, and not really realizing what was happening to them until it was too late. They were broken down, told they were useless and their lives meaningless, drugged up so they wouldn’t feel anything, and it took years to get them back on track. But back on track we were getting them, no matter what it cost.
“What’s your name?” Sydney asked.
The girl shook her head. It wasn’t unusual that they weren’t ready to talk to us right when we brought them in. Gaining trust took time.
“It’s okay,” Syd said. “You can tell us later. My name is Sydney, and this is my sister Eva Rae Thomas. We’re taking you to a safe place. No one can hurt you there. I promise you.”
I smiled, knowing this girl had probably been given all the promises in the world and also had them broken just as many times. They all had the same story; it was heartbreaking.
Rescuing a girl like this felt good. It felt really good. But for some reason, it also filled me with such a deep sadness because I knew there were thousands more of them out there, and I couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly I wanted to.
There was nothing legal about what we did, but I didn’t care. I was no longer in the force; I had left all that behind and retired from the FBI. I didn’t answer to anyone. Besides, who would report us? The traffickers? Not very likely.
I drove up to the gate of the property housing the shelter, then greeted the hired security guards, and they let us in. I drove up to the eighteen-thousand-square-foot house that Sydney had bought, and made me co-owner of, then parked at the entrance. A set of staffers came running out. Sydney opened the sliding doors of my minivan.
“We don’t have a name yet,” she said, then grabbed the hand of the young girl. She stepped out cautiously, and Sydney helped her inside with the staffers, holding her arm around her. This was the part that Sydney was really good at. She knew better how the girls felt, having been kidnapped as a child herself. I, on the other hand, was good at finding them and bringing them to the house. The rest, I left to those better suited and who were gentler in their approach.
I sighed with relief as I saw her enter the building, then got out and walked in after them, the adrenalin still rushing in my veins, but slowly subsiding. It was all over. The girl was safe, and my job was done.
At least for now.
Chapter 4
The TV was on in the living room while Dad watched the news. He was half asleep by now, but the beer was still in his hand and hadn’t slipped to the floor yet, which usually meant he had passed out.
“Just a few more minutes,” Jessica whispered to her younger sister, Maya. “Then he’ll be out.”
They were doing the dishes as usual after dinner. Mom was upstairs, probably putting make-up on her face to cover the bruises she had received during dinner when Dad blew up over her talking back to him. It was the usual stuff on an ordinary Monday night. Jessica worried about her homework and whether she’d be able to finish it on time since the cleaning up took longer than anticipated—mostly due to the broken glass on the floor, that she cleaned up so her sister wouldn’t cut herself.
Jessica wiped a plate clean and put it in the cabinet when there was a small thud from the living room. She peeked in there and saw the beer had fallen to the carpet, its foaming contents spilling out on the usual spot. Then she smiled and went back to her sister.
“It’s done. He’s out.”
Relief showed on her sister’s face, and her shoulders came down. It was the same thing every day. Once the clock neared six, they knew Dad would come in the door, and they never knew what mood he would be in. Sometimes he was happy, especially on payday, then he went to the pub and had a couple of beers before he came home and sometimes, he’d even grab their mother and dance with her in the kitchen. But that wasn’t on most days. Jessica told herself she could see it on his face once he entered the door what mood he was in and what kind of night it was going to be. But not always. Sometimes, he could be happy when he got home, but then she’d do something to tick him off, or her sister would, and that could ruin the entire evening for all of them.