The back of my head was crashing against the stranger’s chest as the hand on my mouth locked down, stilling it before a cold sharpness pierced my neck, followed by a burning sensation. I watched as a man—much smaller than the one holding me in place—stepped out of the vehicle and opened the back door to the SUV.
“No! Please…I have his money! I told him I was going!”
My words slipped into slurs, my vision fading as my body was placed in the trunk. “Help,” I gurgled in a whisper as my mind spiraled into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Six
My eyes stirred before the rest of my body did, blinking past the subduing fog that held my mind captive. I swallowed, coughing past the dryness, then running my tongue across my parched lips. My head throbbed as the room slowly came into view, still fuzzy and way too bright. Stale air enveloped me, causing my nose to crinkle. What happened?
“Hello?” I croaked, struggling to raise my hand to wipe my runny eyes. My head dropped—and that was when I realized I was bound to a chair. A thick rope was wrapped around my center, bolting me in place.
Panic erupted, shaking me fully from the sedation as I tugged on my hands only to find them intertwined together and through the same rope. My feet were strapped to each leg of the chair, holding me completely captive.
“Hello!?” I called out more loudly, my voice returning as my terror began to soar.
“I’m right here.”
I closed my eyes on a silent sob. That accent—it was the stranger from the park.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Was he joking? Not too fucking well!, I wanted to scream. But I decided to play nice.
“My wrists hurt and I’m thirsty. Please,” I begged in a whimper, my voice cracking on every word. “I need water.”
Instantly, there was a bottle in front of my face. Those rough, scarred hands from earlier opened the lid and pressed it to my lips. I drank every bit, ignoring the trickle down my chin, until he pulled it away.
“Thank you,” I said, breathing more easily.
He reappeared this time with a cloth, wiping away the stray droplets, then stared down at me with an intense yet indecipherable expression. Images of the violence a man with his build could inflict terrorized my thoughts.
“Who are you?” I asked through a cough. “Did Rafe send you?”
He shook his head then stepped around me, pushing my chair forward. The wood screeched across the floor; my ears rang from the awful sound. He didn’t stop until he slid me into another room—this one darker, with a wall covered in images.
“Oh my God!” I cried out. “What is this? Please, please! Let me go!”
I struggled against my restraints, trying to look anywhere but at the dozens of photographs of young women, all who were posing in the same black satin nighty, smiling for the camera. But it was the numerous sticky notes surrounding each eight-by-ten that brought about my most horrifying thoughts.
“Do you recognize any of these women?” he asked, voice hard and severe.
I shook my head, my body racked with sobs. “No! I don’t know anything. Please let me go!” I cried out. “I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise.”
“Look at them!” he barked, appearing at my side and gripping my chin, forcing me to do so.
“Do you recognize any of them?” he asked more slowly this time, forcing me to consider each image.
“No, I…” My breath caught suddenly, a wave of nausea crashing down.
“Yes.” Raw tears spilled down my flaming cheeks. “The last two, I…I worked with them a few months ago.”
“Where?”
“Poker—underground games in the city.” My body stilled, mind terrorized as I asked in a murmur, “What did you do to them?”
The stranger didn’t reply, instead asking, “Did they know Rafe as well?”
“He was a regular, so I’d assume so. Why?”
His expression lifted with the knowledge. “Did you ever see them with him outside of the games?”
What was he getting at? Krissy and Maddy were both fresh from college—beautiful, smart, and ambitious enough to do whatever they needed to get ahead, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they let Rafe take them around like he did with me. But he’d never mentioned it.
“As far as I know, Rafe only took me out.”
A low chuckle sounded around me. “So you believed you were dating? Exclusively, I mean.”
His deliberate mocking caused my fury to erupt. “No, but he didn’t have any other girls that I know of! What is this? Why are their pictures here?”
The stranger stepped into view, walking toward the wall, then stopped beside Maddy’s photo.
“She was the last,” he said so coldly my sobs grew wilder. “Or so I believe.”
“What?” I huffed breathlessly, my sore muscles protesting and face beginning to itch from the mess of tears mingling with my runny nose.
“Has Rafe asked you to leave the country with him before?”
“No,” I answered truthfully, still confused and frightened.
“I see.” He grabbed something from a nearby table and carried it toward me. “When was this taken?”
The stranger held up an image that, had I been standing, would’ve brought me to my knees. It was of myself, blowing a playful kiss to the photographer, Rafe, while I wore—
“Uh…” My body heaved and trembled, eyelids sliding shut. I was wearing the same black satin nighty.
How was this possible? Rafe had taken the photo with his cell phone, catching me right before I climbed into bed at a hotel we’d been sharing. I wasn’t naked or even exposed in any way, the outfit covering the same as any skimpy dress would, so I hadn’t forced him to delete it.
“Where did you get that!?” I shouted, sniffling. “Rafe gave it to you, didn’t he? Why?”
“When did he take this?” the stranger asked again.
“Right before we split up, almost two months ago. Why?” I said between sobs.
“Because this,” he shook the image in his hand, “is how I found you.”
Utterly confused and emotionally drained, I went limp as he placed my photo on the wall beside the others, then returned, dropping to his haunches in front of me.
Gently, he lifted my chin. “I had a lead on him last year, but it dried up. I couldn’t prove he was involved. But when this image made its rounds underground, it was tracked back to him, and I knew for sure he was the guy that could lead me to these girls.”
My mouth clamped shut, confining the silent sobs.
“Hey, now…” He wiped my face with the cloth again. “I need your help. That’s why I brought you here.”
“My help?” I asked numbly. “You’ve been following me so I’d help you? Rafe’s been around Harmony—why not just have him arrested? Or take him, like you did me?”
“Rafe’s only the middleman. Taking him out of the equation leads me back to square one.”
I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to. I peered up at the wall of photos. “Please just tell me they’re all okay.”
“I don’t have that answer for you.”
“I just…I don’t understand,” I wept.
He nodded, gaze softening. “What do you know about human trafficking?”
Despite my cried-out feeling, more tears bubbled up. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The stranger pulled up a chair in front of me, sitting stiffly upright as he explained how Rafe would seduce young girls with his money and charm, then groom them as an investment. Caleb had said that Rafe prided himself on creating escorts—I thought that was bad enough, but I had no idea how to process this. So I shut it all down, powering off my emotions the best I could before I had a full-on panic attack.
“I’ve been told that by the time he takes the girls out of the country, they don’t expect it—they’re too eager to keep him happy,” he explained. “Did Rafe ever try and convince you to meet with other men, or ask for them to join you two in
bed?”
My words were lodged in place, too shameful to speak. Yeah, he tried, I thought—especially toward the end—but I was never interested, and only once did he seem annoyed by my rejection.
My answer must’ve been evident on my slackened face.
“I understand this may be hard to process. If you promise to remain calm, I’ll release your wrists.”
My head bobbed up and down.
“Very good,” he said, sounding satisfied.
My gaze followed as he stood then reached under his shirt, retrieving a large knife from a sheath clipped to his pants. My adrenaline kicked back in, body squirming madly while nothing but incoherent gibberish fell from my lips in the form of pleas.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “As long as you are here, you’re safe.”
That silky-smooth accent ceased my movements, allowing him to cut through the rope, freeing not only my hands but my legs and torso as well. I rubbed the redness around my wrists and was muttering a thanks when it hit me.
“Where are you from? Your accent sounds—”
“Ireland, originally. But I grew up mostly in the states,” he added with a begrudging smile, returning the knife to its sheath. “It’s why my accent is so weak, I’ve been told.”
He’s from Ireland!? Fuck!
There were no more tears to shed or shock to paralyze me. Of course he was Irish. Because being locked in a room with a possible cartel was exactly what my week called for.
“I know of Rafe’s offer to you. He was apparently desperate.”
“How do you know? What is Rafe to you? How do you know any of these things?” My voice rose with each question.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small device. “I have ears everywhere when necessary. And had you remained steadfast in your rebuffs, I feared he’d snatch you in the night. It’s why I kept you under surveillance.”
“Lucky you got me first, I guess,” I grumbled.
He ignored my comment. “My guy told me you were on to him. He’s young. Needs more training.”
“So, wait, you weren’t in the vehicle?”
His features relaxed, the corner of his mouth curling up. “No, but I was never far away. I needed to get to you before your flight, and tonight presented the perfect opportunity. I’d hoped to convince you, rather than resorting to…” He waved his hands over the dangling ropes. “Extreme measures.”
“How long have you been tracking Rafe?”
“Since last May. But I gave up until recently.” His jaw ticked.
“So what do you want from me, exactly?” I asked weakly. “How can I help? I’m just a dumb girl that keeps screwing up.” And boy, had I done it this time.
“For you to travel across the border as scheduled, but with me not far behind the entire way,” he explained. “I have a plan that will not only stop Rafe from destroying any more lives, but may also lead to the last girl, Madeline Thompson.”
If Maddy was down there somewhere, of course I wanted to help find her, but the thought was terrifying. “You think Max has her?”
“Max?” he repeated, looking perplexed.
“Yeah, that’s who Rafe said I was going to see. The one paying me, or so he said.”
His brows pulled together. “And have you met this Max before?”
I nodded. “Yeah, a few times. Is he a part of this?”
The stranger, whose name I needed to learn, began rummaging through files on the table. “Here.” He returned with two sheets full of mugshots. “Are any of these this Max fellow?”
I skimmed carefully, spotting Max on the first page. The stranger looked angry when I pointed him out.
“I see. Thank you, Hilary.” He strode to the door. “I’ll have a meal brought to you shortly.”
“Wait!” I called out, attempting to stand. “What now? I have to work in the morning.”
He appraised me slowly as I grabbed ahold of the table for support, my legs still weak.
“Now you trust me,” he said severely. “The bathroom is to the left, and there’s a cot down the hall. If you attempt to leave I’ll bring you back the same way you arrived except I won’t unbind you the next time.”
He turned to leave again and I bared my teeth on an angry growl, pushing my way toward him.
“Hey! I’ll help you out, but only if you answer my questions too. What time is it?” There were no windows, only cinderblock walls.
“Almost noon.”
I released a defeated breath. “Shit. The school…I never showed up. They’ll try calling. I need my phone.”
He shook his head. “I took care of it—called them last night to explain you were ill.”
The man called my school?
“What about my bag? I’ll need my passport, clothes...”
He pointed to the far side of the room. My full duffle bag was sitting on a bench.
“Anything else?” he asked, tapping his foot.
“You’re not giving me my phone back, are you?”
“No,” he stated clearly.
I slid down against the wall, thankful for the support. “Fine. Then I have only one more question.” I inhaled deeply, readying myself for the answer. “Is Caleb involved?”
The stranger gauged the several emotions that were undoubtedly shadowing my features, then turned fully to face me.
“Caleb has not been made aware that you’re with me. It was he who found your photograph and tracked it to Rafe. He became more intent on catching the man behind all of this, and I soon realized why. But Caleb is no longer a part of this job. Anything else?”
Job? Caleb found my photo? When? I had so many questions, but only one more for him.
“Yeah.” I held his gaze. “What’s your name?”
The veins in his neck tightened, frustration heavy in his scowl. Something told me he rarely divulged so much and that I’d already witnessed him as pleasant as he’d allow.
“They call me Saint.”
With that, he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him and leaving me to process the nightmare I’d been swept up in.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In all my life, I’d never been more nervous to board a plane. One of Saint’s men—one who was either mute, deaf, or extremely rude—dropped me at the airport with my bag and passport, but still no phone.
I’d been instructed to speak to no one, and told that Saint would field any texts my phone received. He did, however, agree to my using it once under his supervision to text my dad and Cassandra, both of whom would worry if they couldn’t get ahold of me. I explained to them both how my phone was on the fritz and I wouldn’t be getting a new one until Monday, telling Cassandra I wasn’t feeling well so she wouldn’t wonder why I’d been out of school.
I couldn’t help but see the last text with Caleb—one Saint must've sent as me, telling him I was home safely and wanted space. What else had he written?
I was tempted to click the messages even with Saint standing over me, as he seemed distracted enough with a map in his hand that I stood a chance at getting away with it. But after a second, more realistic thought, I powered down the phone without a second glance.
Caleb had known all about Rafe—the danger I was in—and said nothing. He’d found the picture of me himself, likely before returning to Haven. So many secrets hardened my heart, but the tough skin I’d developed over the last twelve hours kept my emotions at bay.
I boarded the flight as scheduled, spotting Saint sitting two rows down on my right, dressed in a casual white tee and black hoodie. He was there, exactly as he’d said. He lowered the magazine in his hand just enough to reveal aviators concealing the glare I had no doubt he was shooting me as I stood there in the aisle, staring.
“Whatever you do, don’t look at me or draw attention between us,” he’d drilled into me earlier that day.
I dropped my gaze quickly, sliding into my seat and tucking my bag onto the floor under the seat in front of me.
My nerves were rattling a
s I went over each step of the plan again and again in my head. Saint swore that if I followed it perfectly, I’d be returning home by morning. And the arrogant confidence in his tone had eased me enough that I began to believe him. It was crazy—I was on my way to another country with dangerous men looking to hurt me. And despite being under Saint’s protection, as he’d so cockily declared, I was scared to death.
The flight was a grueling four hours. Sleep evaded me despite my feeling an exhausting mix of adrenaline and fear. I sat in my row’s middle seat, replaying the last few moments with my father. If he could see me now, I thought shamefully.
“Excuse me.” I reached out for a passing steward. “Do you have a pen I could borrow?”
Before he could reply, the woman in the window seat beside me pulled one out. “Here you go,” she said with a friendly smile.
“Thanks.” I grabbed the barf bag in front of me and lowered my tray.
“I always keep one in my bag,” she said. “I get so bored on these long flights.”
I gave a tight smile, not looking for conversation, then focused my attention down at the plain white paper bag. For the first time in my life, I needed him to know the truth.
Dad,
I hope you know how much I love you. You’re an amazing father and I’ve been so lucky to have you. I wish I could have been a better daughter. I’m so sorry for my attitude and arguing and the times I lied about my bedroom window. It was me who kept ripping the screen when I snuck out. It wasn’t the birds, but you probably already knew that. You always seem to know everything, and a part of me wishes you knew what was happening now. I’ve messed my life up so horribly that I’m not sure how to repair it.
All I ever wanted was to make you proud and for you to see me stand on my own two feet. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me for being so reckless.
Love always,
Hil
I then proceeded to give him a short summary of what was happening. I swiped away a falling tear, rereading the front and back of the bag. Whatever happened, my dad deserved to know the truth.
“Do you think you’ll be using that?” I asked the woman, pointing at her barf bag.
Inferno (A Harmony Love Story) Page 23