When I woke up this morning Violet was safely tucked against my side. She was so exhausted from last night’s activities she didn’t even stir when I kissed her forehead goodbye. Now fifteen goddamn hours later she’d been taken from the one place I promised her she’d be safe.
“Nightstalker.”
“Status?” I asked.
“Five by five.”
Thank fuck Jasmin was safe but my blood was boiling. How could this have happened.
“How the fuck did they get in?”
“They didn’t. She walked out with her goddamned hands in the air and surrendered. Last footage is of her getting in a helicopter traveling east.”
“Where the fuck was Nightstalker?”
“Loose Lips locked her in the closet.”
I was going to tan Violet’s ass for that stunt. As soon as I found her I was going to bend her over my knee and… do nothing. Because God knows what those animals will have done to her.
“Tex thinks he’s got a lock on a location where the exchange is supposed to take place. I’ve called in a marker. All she has to do is hold tight until the Calvary gets there.”
“Hold tight? You know as well as I do, there will be no holding tight,” I growled.
“Get your ass in check, Blue. That’s not a request. If you lose your shit you’re no good to her. If we don’t get there in time…”
“I will kill every motherfucker who touched her.” I cut him off.
“And after that, she’ll need you. Keep your shit wired tight.”
That was easy for him to say. The woman he cared for wasn’t in the hands of a lunatic who was planning on selling her.
“Tex is following up on a lead and getting his man in place. Use Declan to scout out any known locations Ortega uses. No sense in you coming back here if they’re headed your way.”
“The mission?” I asked, needing clarification.
“It’s been approved. Extreme prejudice,” he answered.
“Out.”
Zane had given me the confirmation I needed that this was a fully sanctioned op by the government and deadly force had been approved. Not that it would’ve stopped me, but my plan of action would’ve been different. There was no way I would’ve allowed Declan and Eric to follow me down a path that would’ve been considered criminal. The government tends to frown upon killing sprees in foreign countries, even by the very men they hire to do just that.
I briefed Eric and Declan and after more than a few colorful expletives, Declan got himself under control. Much like me, he was hanging on by a thread. We all knew how this worked. We had less than twenty-four hours to find Violet or she’d be lost in the underground world of trafficking. It could take years before she’d resurface again. If she ever did.
Working against a clock lit a fire under a man’s ass. Not wasting any time, Declan had taken us to two of Ortega’s known hideouts and both were empty.
“Goddamn it,” he shouted in frustration.
“Forget Violet,” Eric said and both Declan and I turned to him. He held his hands up before either of us could speak. “Christ. Think. Both of you step away from thoughts of her. This is not personal. A simple hostage rescue.”
That was easier said than done. I couldn’t separate the two. The longer she was gone, the more my mind conjured up images of my beautiful girl being violated and touched.
“Blue!” I startled at Eric saying my name. “Think, brother. Simple and stupid. No different than the hundreds of other missions. First step of the kill chain, we need to track. Two places were a bust. Where to next?”
“He’s been staying on the coast, near the waterways. Easy in and out for him by boat,” Declan said. “Less heat there from the locals.”
If one has never been through the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, it is an unimaginable sight to see, the hodgepodge of what could loosely be called buildings as far as the eye could see. Roughly six million people packed into one thousand shanty-towns that were no more than the worst shit-hole slums you could ever imagine. The smell was horrific, the crime was astronomical, and a woman’s survival rate on these streets was nil. They were inundated with prostitution, drugs, and housed the world’s largest sex trade. A person could buy whatever they wanted. The thought made me want to throw up.
Three large white men walking the streets didn’t go unnoticed and we hoped it wouldn’t. The men gave us sidelong glances but so far had kept their distance. Old Brazilian women tried to push whatever goods they could our way, hoping to make a few American cents.
We were almost out of one area when a boy stepped out of a building. He was filthy dirty, ill-fitting clothes, and no shoes. He pulled a young girl out of the door with him. She was equally unwashed, and her hair was in tangles.
“Hey mister,” the boy called out. “You have any money?” The boy’s English was broken but still understandable. “My sister. We have no food.”
Bile rose at the condition these children lived in. I quickly swallowed and shook my head. This was not my first time in the slums of Rio, but It was in times like these a man realized how impotent he was. Fury and shame mixed together as I handed the boy what cash I had in my pocket and walked away. There was nothing I could do to save those children.
“I motherfucking hate this goddamn place,” Eric seethed as we turned the corner,.
“Keep walking,” Declan advised. “Movement at our nine o’clock. I count three. Didn’t see what they were packin’.”
I quickly slipped into an alleyway where trash littered the ground and a few fifty-five-gallon metal drums were stacked against a wall. There was nothing that would provide cover. The pedestrian alley broke right, and I found what we needed - trash stacked what looked to be a mile high. Old wooden crates, mattresses, bags of the foulest trash I’d ever smelled, broken furniture, you name it - it was piled. I motioned for Eric and Declan to duck in the space between the junk and a chain-link fence and I stepped in beside them.
We didn’t need to cause a gang riot on the streets. Three white boys tussling with the locals would cause unwanted attention. We were not trying to hide our location from Ortega, the sooner he knew we were here the better. He’d send his men after us and we’d be able to use them to find him, but the local street gangs we didn’t want to fuck with. We’d quickly be outnumbered.
I lifted my left arm and made a ninety-degree angle and a fist, signaling the two men behind me to halt their movements. The three men that Declan had caught sight of could be heard, their heavy footfalls not far away. When they stopped, one said to look behind the trash pile. I opened my fist pointed one finger up and made a circle motion.
It was go time.
I stepped out from behind the trash barricade, brought my Sig P226 up and pulled the trigger. At 1,300 feet per second the man didn’t have time to react before a 115-grain supersonic round penetrated his skull. He crumpled to the ground and his two friends followed as Declan and Eric took their shots.
“We’ve got lookie loos. Second story third row,” I called out.
“Copy that,” Eric said, now standing behind me.
“Hop the fence. Hundred yards up there’s an intersection in the alley that will take us back to the main road,” Declan told us.
We followed his directions and thankfully the alleyway wasn’t blocked as they sometimes were in shanty-towns. People would set up camp wherever they could, or the gangs would block an alley to keep the flow of drugs and girls in the areas they wanted. We made it back to the main road and followed it another mile until we came to the expressway. The craziest part about Rio and the favelas was when the slums stopped, normally at an expressway or a wall, what was on the other side was paradise.
We made our way to the graffiti-filled underpass where there were men milling about. Some drinking, some standing next to the street selling produce, others sat in seats that had been ripped out of cars or trucks. Declan knew who he was looking for, so Eric and I let him take the lead, both of us steadily scanning the area. We approached a gro
up of five men standing in a circle, three were looking at us while two had their backs to us. One of the men facing us lifted his chin to alert his friends of our presence. Both men turned to look at us. The smaller of the two men’s eyes widened before he tried to run. Declan’s much larger frame blocked his hasty retreat.
“Why so fast, amigo?” Declan’s hand on the man’s shoulder kept him in place.
“Hawk, homem. I heard you were dead,” the man answered.
“No such luck. Where’s jefe?” Declan asked. I knew enough Portuguese to understand he was asking about the man’s boss.
“Eh. Here and there. You know how he his.” Declan moved, and the man went to his knees “Filho da puta.”
“Don’t make me ask you again.”
Two of the man’s friends moved; however, before Eric and I could move into position Declan pinned them with a stare and wisely they stepped back.
“Providência,” he answered. We had just come from the favela known as Morro de Providência. If the man was there, we’d have to wait to go back.
“Try again.” Declan added pressure to the pressure point in his shoulder.
“Bairros africanus,” the man whined.
“Tell him I’m looking for him. I’ll be around his way tonight.” He shoved the man and he landed on his ass.
“Vai toma no cú.” The man hocked a loogie, the wad of mucus landing near Declan’s foot. In a swift manner of action, Declan picked up his foot and with the heel of his boot smashed the man’s face.
“Do I look like I like to take it up the ass?” The man didn’t answer Declan. Instead, he held his now bleeding face. “Which one of you have heard about an American woman being delivered tonight?” he asked the other men standing around. No one spoke but all gestured in the negative. “I find out one of you motherfuckers knew where she was being delivered I’ll be back.”
Still no one spoke. He turned his back to the men and started walking back the way we came. Fuck this could not be good.
Nothing like walking into the hornet’s nest.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Violet
“Eh. I thought she’d be prettier,” the man standing in front of me said. “Five million is a lot of coin to spend on a bitch. Wanna explain why my merchandise has marks on her face?”
“We had a problem with her during transport. She’s strong willed, something I’m sure you’ll enjoy breaking her of,” Manuel Ortega told him.
A chill ran up my spine as I processed his words, a problem during transport. This was my new reality. I was no longer a person, I was merchandise to be bought and sold. When I’d tried to jump from the helicopter, I was yanked back to my seat and Manuel promptly went about teaching me a lesson on disobedience and escape. My face still throbbed. I didn’t have a mark, I had two black eyes and I was pretty sure my nose was broken.
“Turn around,” the man demanded.
I couldn’t get my body to follow his command. Whether it was sheer stubbornness or stupidity I didn’t know. But as I stared at the man in front of me, I was beginning to believe it was stupidity. His deep brown eyes narrowed, and he took slow, measured steps closer to me. I lost sight of his eyes when he stopped in front of me. He was huge, maybe six-five or taller if I had to guess. He wore a perfectly pressed suit, and not a single strand of his salt and pepper hair was out of place. He didn’t look like the type of man that would engage in such disgusting activities. He looked like any other good looking respectable businessman. I could picture him in a boardroom somewhere. But he wasn’t respectable, and we weren’t in a boardroom. This man had bought me to be his sex slave. He now owned me and would do what he wanted with me. An angry tear slipped down my cheek, yet I didn’t move to brush it away.
“Turn. Around.” His words didn’t leave any room for further insubordination and I turned my back to him, presenting him with a view of my panty-clad behind. The man’s hand on my bare shoulder made me startle and he wrapped his hand around my bicep preventing me from jerking away from his filthy hands. “Yes. She’ll do just fine. Big tits, nice ass, and some spunk. I will enjoy the struggle while it lasts.” He released my arm and stumbled forward. “Half has already been wired into your account, Mr. Ortega. Now that I’ve inspected the goods, I’ll transfer the balance and be on our way.”
This was it. I looked around the warehouse and wondered if I could escape somehow and how I’d survive in the jungle barefoot and only wearing a pair of panties and bra. I decided I didn’t care. I’d rather die in the jungle than allow this man to own me, but there was no escape.
He owned me!
I struggled to keep my emotions in check, the travesty and unfairness of my current situation was closing in on me. I grasped at any hope I could. Maybe if I explained to this man I was here against my will, and that my brother and Jaxon would pay him for my safe return, he’d let me go. I was holding on to anything, even the smallest sliver of hope. I couldn’t allow myself to feel the full impact of what was happening to me or I’d crumble. The depth of my despair was bottomless. It was useless; I couldn’t escape but I could fight. I would never give this man my body freely. He would never break my will. He could rape me, beat me, and torture me, but my mind, heart, and soul belonged to Jaxon.
I would keep the memory of us locked deep. He would be my mental escape. I would dream of the life we could’ve had. I would build upon what we had begun until in my mind we’d grown old together. Jaxon would hold my hand, and kiss me, he’d love me, and each night when I fell asleep I’d dream of our legs tangled together. I belonged to Jaxon. This vile pig might own my body, but Jaxon owned my soul. He didn’t have to buy it or force himself on me to get it. Jaxon had earned it - my trust, my loyalty, and my love.
“Did you hear me, bitch?” Manuel said and smacked me. My head jerked to the side and I could taste blood.
Before I could answer, a menacing growl came from the man. “If you would kindly keep your hands off my property, I would appreciate it.”
“I believe she is still mine, Mr. Cutsinger. Until your final payment has been verified, I will punish those in my care as I see fit,” Manuel corrected.
“Very well. Then if I may, I have a request. If you feel the need to strike her again, do not do so in the face. We will be traveling today. I’ll already have to excuse away the current clumsiness of my new bride. While here in your country, no one will look twice. However, in mine, people will take notice. As it stands I’ll have to keep her away from my staff so as not to raise concerns.”
“You plan on allowing her around your staff?” Ortega chuckled. “I would think a cage would be more appropriate.”
I shuddered at the thought of being locked in a cage in a dark basement dungeon.
“I am a civilized man. She will not need a cage. She’ll know her place as all the others do. Within a week, she’ll be housebroken.”
Civilized man? The tears I was desperately trying to keep at bay were now freely leaking from my eyes. My future had come into striking clarity and the clear understanding how I was going to spend my life was horrifying. Jaxon had warned me there were things far worse than death. At the time I couldn’t fully comprehend what he meant. However, now, in vivid living technicolor I understood.
I prayed Jasmin and her babies were safe, that me standing here nearly nude in front of a man that was going to violate me in all manner of ways wasn’t for naught. Some good had to come from this. Jasmin and Linc and their babies happy and healthy was my reward. Jasmin could be the mother I knew she’d be and together they could teach their children how to be courageous and brave. Jaxon would move on in time and my brother, he was the one that would feel my enslavement the most. For that, I was heartbroken.
“Put this on,” Mr. Cutsinger shoved a black sleeveless wrap dress in my hands and dropped a pair of black ballet flats at my feet.
Robotically I dressed in front of both men and tied the dress at my waist, covering myself the best I could. I slipped my feet into the shoe
s and was surprised they fit perfectly. I didn’t want to think about how this man knew what size clothing and shoes I wore. The thought was too depressing. It only reminded me of how long Ortega had been planning this. Had he rummaged through my apartment finding my sizes? Had he looked through my underwear drawer, too?
Fuck him! Fuck them both!
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Manuel said, and offered his hand to the man who had bought me, Mr. Cutsinger.
The men shook hands and Mr. Cutsinger turned to me. “It’s time to go.”
Go? I’d wanted to escape this place since the moment I’d been dragged in the room. Now the prospect of leaving was terrifying. I guess the saying the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t was true. I shook my head and my eyes pled with the man not to take me. I couldn’t do this. I had been lying to myself when I thought I could drift away in my mind as this man took me against my will. I was a fucking liar; I couldn’t do it.
The moment I walked out the door Jaxon would be forever lost to me. Mr. Cutsinger would break me. He grew impatient waiting for me to move and yanked my arm until I was pressed up against his side and his cologne assaulted me. It was expensive and musky, the opposite of Jaxon’s clean smell of soap and man. This man stank of immorality and depravity.
“Let’s go,” he growled, pulling me tight against him. He lowered his head to my ear and whispered, “When we walk out of here you are to listen to everything I say, to the T.” I struggled to gain some distance from the man, and I heard him sigh. “Violet.” The use of my name gave me pause. He called me merchandise and property but never my name. “Please trust me and do what I say.”
Even though he’d softened his voice, I wasn’t buying the nice guy routine. He’d bought me for five million dollars. That didn’t scream man of the year, it screamed douchebag of the century. He pulled me alongside of him to the door, my feet reluctantly moved toward the death of my humanity.
“Violet. When I open this door, things are going to happen quickly. Do as I say, and we’ll get you out of here,” he whispered.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redeeming Violet (Kindle Worlds) Page 15