What would happen if I tried to escape and was punished? What if I was hit or kicked in my stomach?
I wanted to believe it wouldn’t be allowed to happen. After all, these people wanted to sell my child; however, I refused to have faith in their plans.
“How far along are you?” a blonde girl asked in a whisper as she sat beside me.
In the dimness I noticed the stringiness of her hair and the tears in her ragged dress.
Were we all bought dresses for our sale?
Her question took me out of my thoughts.
“I’m pregnant, but I don’t know how far for sure.”
“Me too,” she said.
It was difficult to see in the dimness. “Are you showing?” I asked.
“Yeah. Some of them upstairs like that. How about you?”
“Not very much.”
“Oh, once you do, your name will be called more often. Sick bastards like the idea of screwing a pregnant woman. I don’t know why. Some mommy fantasy I guess. At least it results in food. I’m always hungry.”
“Yeah, me too.” My skin peppered with goose bumps. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know.”
The common answer led to the hopelessness of our situation. I squeezed my legs tighter against my chest. “I’m Maddie and I’m always scared.” It was a brave confession and true.
She reached toward me. I flinched.
My mind told me this was a friend and confidant. My body recoiled at any contact.
She sighed. “We all are. I heard Miss Warner a few days—or hell, weeks ago—saying that everyone here is pregnant. It’s easier she said. No periods. No need for condoms. We can work for them every day and night without exception.”
“I don’t even know if it’s day or night.”
“I saw a customer’s watch once. I didn’t know if it was a.m. or p.m., but I tried to keep track. It didn’t last long. I doubt anyone in here knows.”
Sighing, I laid my head back. “I hate it. Their hands on me, their bad breath, and the way they smell.” I turned to her, keeping my voice low. “The way I smell.”
“Just pray that the customers don’t complain. If one does, they’ll make you shower.”
“Why? A shower sounds heavenly.”
“Not here. I’ve had two. I don’t know how many times I’ve been screwed or the time of day, but I won’t forget the showers.”
I sat taller. “Tell me.”
“There’s a room up there, beyond the door at the end of the hall. You know where one of those big guys always stands?”
I nodded.
“It’s them.”
“What is?”
“Those men that sometimes help Miss Warner?”
“Yeah,” I answered trepidatiously.
“It’s them. They make you strip and they use a garden hose. The water is freezing. There’s no shampoo or soap, just water, and they like to be sure we’re really clean—everywhere. A cold-water enema, it made my stomach hurt and I kept using the bucket. It was awful.”
My empty stomach twisted as her words became pictures in my mind.
“Once they’re done,” she went on, “they take turns. It’s their chance to get in on the action around them.”
“I feel sick,” I said.
“Try to resist it. Puking in that bucket is the worst.”
I knew from experience she was right. “Do you ever think about dying?” I asked.
Her shoulder shrugged against mine. “I bet we all do. You know they use the baby to keep us going.” Her hand went to her stomach. “I felt mine kick the other day.”
“Really?”
She reached again for my hand. This time I didn’t resist as she placed it over her stomach. Her body beneath her dress was rounder and harder than mine.
“Just wait,” she said. “And press down. You won’t hurt me.”
I did as she said.
“Did you feel it?” she asked.
“I don’t think I did.”
She let go of my hand. “I did. When he gets stronger you’ll be able to. You’ll probably be able to feel yours soon. I’m like you. I hate this, but I love my baby.”
“Do you know yours is a boy?” I asked.
“No, I just like the sound of him or he over it.”
More tears made their way from my eyes. “I heard them say they’re going to sell mine.”
“All of them.”
“I don’t want to go on without my baby.” I’d lost everything else.
“Then get sold together.”
I turned toward her, my volume increasing. “What? Is that possible?”
“Shh.” She looked around. “I don’t know. There were two girls here before you got here. They were close to their due dates. Both of their names were called and neither one has returned.” She let out a long breath. “We have to have hope. In my head, they’re both with their babies. Maybe it’s some rich couple and they buy the mom too. You know to feed the baby. Hell, I’ll do whatever they want. I’ll let the guy screw me, give him head. It would be better than here and maybe I’d be clean or have my own room. Anyway, it’s better than imagining any other outcome.”
Get sold with my baby.
The seed had been planted.
The door opened and the room became deadly still.
Only Miss Warner’s profile was visible with the light from the stairs. She tapped the small crop against the palm of her other hand, maintaining our attention.
We all waited.
The anticipation built, yet no one spoke.
“Cindy.”
I exhaled, thankful it wasn’t me while at the same time my empty stomach filled with disappointment.
The girl next to me stood. “Yes, Miss Warner. Thank you, Miss Warner.”
I hadn’t known her name.
Cindy, I’m sorry. Please come back. The words weren’t spoken aloud.
The door closed blanketing us again in the dimness.
Madeline
Present day
I wasn’t certain what they had done, but since the bracelet Andros gave me was still in Chicago, Patrick’s men decided it would be better if it appeared as if I was still there. Somehow, they inserted my name on a flight manifest, making it look as though I’d caught the first flight from Chicago to Dallas after receiving Marion’s call.
I’d been to this city before for a poker tournament and knew that Dallas-Fort Worth Airport was large. Hoping that Andros wasn’t able to access airport security, we had a plan. After I left Patrick, Garrett dropped me off at one gate and Marion’s driver would retrieve me at another.
The only thing missing for my charade was a suitcase or luggage.
The reality was that Andros’s people had cleared my hotel room. I had no clothes or belongings, none not provided to me by Patrick and the Sparrows.
Did this association make me a double agent?
Was this like a spy movie where I’d be forced to pledge my allegiance to one or the other?
Or was I about to enter the scene where the heroine was tied to a chair and tortured at length until she gave up her secrets or her life?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Like the scattering of insects, the chill spread down my limbs, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Shaking it off, I stepped into the Skylink and reached for a silver pole as other travelers joined me. Following Patrick’s plan, I disembarked at the same gate with the arriving flight from O’Hare. The timing was incredibly close. Soon I was falling into the crowd of passengers who had only hours ago been in Chicago.
At last I came to the baggage area. As I rode the escalator down, I caught sight of a gentleman, all in black, holding a sign.
MS. MILLER
I nodded as I came forward.
“Ms. Miller?” he asked.
“Yes. You’re with Mr. Elliott?”
“I am. I work for him, ma’am. My name is David. May I help you with your luggage?”
When I returned Marion
’s message, he’d told me to expect a man named David.
“No luggage today,” I said. Not only didn’t I have anything to pack, I wasn’t planning on a long stay. Marion had asked me to his ranch for dinner to discuss my unfortunate situation. He wanted to help not only me but also my daughter.
“Very well,” David said, “please come with me.”
I appreciated the distance he maintained. I wondered if this was the driver who wasn’t able to join Marion in Chicago. No matter what, he was professional and efficient.
Walking through the glass doors, I inhaled the afternoon air. Dallas in January was pleasant, if even a bit chilly; however, in comparison to Detroit or Chicago, it could be considered balmy. A long black limousine caught my attention, bringing my nerves to alert.
“This way, Ms. Miller,” David said.
Once we reached the car, he opened the door.
For a moment, I stood rooted to the sidewalk as the breeze blew strands of my hair about my face and the skirt of my dress. I wasn’t ready to encounter Andros after the spectacle in Club Regal and I wasn’t prepared to do that alone. I looked to my escort. “This is a large car. Is there anyone else inside?”
“Ma’am, this is Texas. Everything is big.”
That wasn’t an answer. “Anyone else?” I asked again.
“No, ma’am. It’s only Nicholas, the driver, and myself. Mr. Elliott thought you might want an opportunity to rest after your flight. This is his favorite car and there’s plenty of room and refreshments for the drive.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you. That was very kind of him.”
Ducking lower, I stepped into the back of the car. To my delight, I was alone. The man had been correct about the space. The seats lined three walls and to one side was cabinetry. Within minutes after the door closed, we eased into traffic, leaving the airport property and picking up speed on the highway.
From where I was seated, I couldn’t see ahead of us but instead to the side. Through the darkened windows the scenes were similar to what I’d seen on the drive to the airport. Buildings of various sizes were on both sides of the interstate as cars and trucks vied for their lanes.
Within my purse, my phone buzzed.
Taking it out, I swiped the screen and entered my new password. An unfamiliar icon resembling an envelope appeared with the number one in a red bubble. I clicked it.
The email came from ‘Customer Service Professionals’—a nice generic identity.
ARE YOU ALONE?
A smile came to my face. The sender was hardly generic. No, he was an incredibly handsome man who had rekindled a part of me I’d long forgotten. With a spark in his blue eyes, he’d resurrected a flame.
I replied.
YES, ONLY THE DRIVER AND ONE OTHER OF MARION’S MEN.
The email chain continued.
WE CAN SEE YOUR LOCATION. I’M WITH YOU.
“Ms. Miller.” The voice came through the speakers.
I looked around for a button to push or a way to respond.
“On the armrest.”
Finding the button, I pushed. “Yes?”
“The bar is fully stocked. There is champagne, a variety of wines, and of course, water.”
“Thank you.”
“With the current traffic, we should arrive at Mr. Elliott’s ranch in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said again, releasing the button and relaxing against the seat.
Reaching into the small refrigerator, I removed a glass bottle of water, and located a glass. I poured myself a small swallow. The cool liquid was refreshing. Refilling the glass, I took another drink.
As I did, I contemplated my current thoughts. I should probably be nervous or frightened, but I wasn’t. I’d been through too many things to be either. And this time I wasn’t alone. I had Patrick and his men within earshot.
In reality it was the length of the day that was catching up to me. It was early Sunday evening, and I hadn’t slept since waking Saturday morning. My head shook as I watched the scenes change out my side window. The urban setting was waning, giving way to open landscapes as beautiful colors of dusk filled the sky.
Removing my shoes, I tucked my feet under my legs. As I did, I began a mental rundown of the last thirty-six hours. In all reality, it seemed as though I’d lived a lifetime in that span. The different scenes came back to me.
Waiting for Mitchell to arrive to my room.
Marion’s car and Andros’s surprise visit.
Progressing to the final round of the poker tournament and having dinner with Marion.
My gut twisted with the recollection of my failure, at losing everything in the final hand.
Everything.
The money.
The game.
The tournament.
Ruby.
Even Andros.
My skin bristled as I recalled the scenes in the tournament hall. After declaring war on the Sparrows, Andros dismissed me, leaving me high and dry and alone at Club Regal. Not alone. I had Patrick. I told him the truth. He had a daughter—we had a daughter. His demeaning search concluded that, in fact and unbeknownst to me, I was wearing a wire, one that transmitted to Andros. And through that transmission, I’d revealed a secret, one I’d held in my heart for seventeen years. Andros Ivanov now knew my secret: I’d always known the identity of Ruby’s father.
I’d flown with Patrick to Ann Arbor only to abort the landing, fly to Corpus Christi, and then to Dallas.
Even recounting the day and a half was exhausting.
The car swayed gently, the tires humming below us on the open pavement. One blink and then a longer blink, my eyes closed.
“It’s only for a short rest,” I told myself as I settled against the soft seat.
Patrick
The suite next door to mine and Madeline’s was larger, taking up a significant portion of the hotel’s top floor. Reid had both suites secured under the name of one of our hundreds of shell corporations. The space was our new satellite command center—our home in Dallas. It contained four attached bedrooms, three in use for my associates: Garrett, Christian, and Romero. The main portion held a kitchen, a large living room, and attached dining area. No longer resembling a hotel room, my men had procured and set up multiple computers, screens, and other equipment. It now looked like a mini version of what we had in Chicago.
With our secure network, we had communication with the Sparrows back in Chicago as well as the ability to utilize much of the software located 950 miles away.
The unused bedroom was my private area, a space to speak to Reid, Mason, and Sparrow or call on my current associates one-on-one. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust this activity around Madeline. It was that I wanted to spare her what we were doing, allowing her to concentrate on Ruby.
As soon as she returned from Elliott’s ranch, that was where I wanted her, in our suite, safe and sound.
One screen upon what was once a dining table was subdivided with different live views of the perimeter of Ivanov’s island retreat. “I’d do anything to get footage inside,” I said to no one in particular. “You know he has the place monitored and can probably see in every damn room.”
“So does Mr. Murray in the tower,” Garrett replied. “Yet footage within Sparrow can’t be accessed. I’d like to think we have the best of the best...”
“We do,” I interjected.
“We do,” Garrett went on, “and technology changes daily. Ivanov wouldn’t be in his position if he didn’t have good people too. I know Mr. Murray is working on accessing it, but right now he’s running into firewall after firewall, blocking his access.”
I knew that what Garrett was saying was correct. I may not be as technically adept as Reid and Mason, but I was better than the average hacker or perhaps more efficient than the people employed by our government—well, the ones on actual payrolls. The organization Mason had been a part of was an entirely different level of intelligence.
Staying a step ahead
of law enforcement agencies took constant work and understanding.
For some reason my mind went back to the trafficking operation Sparrow closed down nearly eight years ago when he took over Chicago. The repercussions were widespread, rattling the country and world with aftershocks and still occasional tremors.
Of course, it was the latest twist to the McFadden side of the business that more recently reinvigorated the tectonic-plate shift.
Seeing the technological ability in this suite reminded me how the way Sparrow’s father had done business wouldn’t work today. The human trafficking/involuntary servitude taskforce, with or without the help of the FBI, would have it closed down and everyone indicted before breakfast. We’d found proof of their operation occurring when Sterling Sparrow was a young boy. No doubt at the time, they thought they were cutting edge with private online chat rooms and live feeds. That didn’t even scratch the surface of the operation. There were also the tried-and-true rings of forced prostitution involving minors and non-minors alike. There were parties and auctions as well as sales chains.
The Sparrows—before our current leader wiped out the old regime—and the McFaddens agreed to share the market. We’d worked to close down the Sparrow side. While we weren’t the ones who uncovered all of Rubio McFadden’s dirt, we simply exposed it to the world and let the authorities do their job.
Sometimes it was nice to remind ourselves that while we didn’t play by conventional rules, we also didn’t advocate the sale of women and children. I realized it wasn’t a high bar, but it was one we exceeded—Sparrow’s passion. He’d come into wealth because of his parents, his mother’s money and father’s business sense. That didn’t mean he approved of all his father had done.
Closing down the Sparrow side of trafficking in Chicago had been Sterling Sparrow’s mission since he was young. When we all met in basic training, we found we had similar desires. Mason lost his youngest sister. It’s never been proven that she was placed in that horrific world. Of course, it was never proved that she wasn’t. Sometimes the unknown is worse than the known. While I never told the others about Maddie, I would suspect that losing her when I did and believing she was dead helped shape my longing to end that particular corruption involving women and children. Reid had his own reasons, and together, we vowed to stop at nothing.
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