“My brother Connor O’Shea gave me your name. You found someone for him a while back. I’m looking for a woman who disappeared from St. Martin a couple of weeks ago. I checked the flight manifests and there was no one by her name or her known alias who left the island on or since that date.”
“Her name? Age?” he said.
“Sorry, got ahead of myself. Liza Jo Kelly. She’s thirty-one. Came from Chicago, showed up here using the name Adriana Thomas. She used to run a restaurant in Chicago, but it shut down right before she came to St. Martin. The only press release said it was for financial reasons. Something doesn’t check out. I’ve known this girl since she was sixteen years old. She doesn’t have an irresponsible bone in her body, just stubborn as hell. A couple weeks ago, I see a guy at the bar watching her, ask her about it, and she swears she doesn’t know him. She’s acting weird, goes pale. I know she’s hiding something. So I confront her and she walked out. I gave her time to cool off, then I couldn’t get her on the phone, and at her motel they said she was paid up for the week but she up and left in some really nice white car that picked her up that same night. She had a suitcase.”
“Are you looking for her because you think she was taken or because you want to find out why she dumped you?”
“Does it matter? I know something isn’t right about this. I have to find her and see that she’s okay. If she doesn’t want to be with me, she never would’ve left it like this. There would have been drama, lots of it, and drawn-out scenes about why it would never work. She’d insist on convincing me until I agreed. She’s that stubborn. So for her to just take off without a word doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m going to send you my email address. Give me all the info you have and pics. I want to know the last time you saw her, where she was staying, everything.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’ll find out what happened to her.”
“I want her found as fast as possible. I don’t care what it costs.”
“I’ll be on a plane before noon, and I’ll keep you posted.”
I felt better telling someone outside my family, someone who would track her down. It was a relief to be doing something and to pursue her without actually flipping out and leaving my job to go yell at everyone who worked at the airport and potentially beat some of them up demanding to know if they saw her. There was a reason I was hiring a professional. I didn’t have the diplomatic skill to get information out of people. I was frantic for word about Liza and wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of anyone who might have knowledge of her whereabouts. My big brother trusted this PI. Connor had served with him in the SEALs. This was the man who’d found Brandi for him when he’d tried everything and failed. I tried to tell myself this was going to be okay. But an undeniable sense of wrongness rode in my gut 24/7 telling me something was way off.
Chapter 24
Liza
Once Lucci told me his plan to pimp me out, I assumed it would happen fast. He was back in town and ready to recoup his losses. But there I sat day after day. Still waiting. The guard had removed the space heater as soon as Lucci left. It had been put there to take the chill off for his boss, not for my comfort. I huddled in my blanket day and night, sometimes scared out of my mind, sometimes throwing up or crying.
All I had to keep me relatively sane were memories. I started going through my favorites and replayed them in my mind trying to remember more details.
I tortured myself with memories of our time together. It kept my mind off my impending career as a sex worker and off of the aching cold of the room I was in. Once, the guard tossed me a change of clothes. Sweatpants, socks, a hoodie. He also let me have the pack of wet wipes from my purse. I practically wept with gratitude. I cleaned my face, my hands, everything. It took three wipes, used so sparingly, to get me even a little bit cleaner. Then the clean socks, warm and dry, felt like heaven. I had nestled in them, leaving my dirty underwear in a pile with my clothes. They were so filthy they needed to be burned, honestly. Next thing I knew, I was getting a box of crackers and a bag of Oreos.
“Boss says fatten you up. You look like shit,” the guard said. The first words he’d ever spoken to me.
I looked down and noticed that my wrists were thin, my arms and legs noticeably skinny. Probably bad for business in the sex trade to be flat-chested with no ass. I didn’t want to be fattened for the slaughter, but the Oreos tasted damn good. Every day after that I got a treat. One day it was a hairbrush and a bag of M&M’s. The next day it was mouthwash and dry shampoo. I wasn’t allowed to keep those—just given enough to use.
I still didn’t feel clean by any stretch of the imagination, but the sweats were warmer and definitely cleaner than the grimy stuff I’d had on for what had to be nearly a month. Next, I got a bag of chips, a soda, more Oreos. I was stuffing my face all the time after weeks of feeling sick. Maybe not being able to have clean clothes had made it worse, or maybe I’d been despondent, not knowing what my fate would be. Now that I knew, I knew there’d be chances to escape. Times I wasn’t watched, times I was with a ‘client’ that I could always go in a gas station bathroom and call for help. I’d just steal the guy’s phone or something. I wasn’t going to live my whole life that way, that was for damn sure. I’d escape as soon as I could, and I’d promise to testify or whatever if they let me contact Tommy. Even if he hated me, I needed to talk to him, to apologize.
That must be why I was so ravenous, why I felt better and clearer and determined to make a life for myself, to get free. To make myself a place that was clean, safe and warm. I imagined a room, very much like his cabin. Small and neat, with warm blankets on the bed and food in the refrigerator, and a rug on the floor. The guard even brought the heater back in sometimes, and I felt like I’d been to a spa or something really luxurious, just having the room at like sixty-five degrees and a cleaner set of clothes on.
I got stronger, but wary as well. This relative spoiling didn’t give me any Stockholm Syndrome—I knew the guard didn’t give a shit if I lived or died except for his boss’s orders. I just worried about when the other shoe was going to drop—when I’d be moved to a brothel or whatever it was.
Lucci came once to see me. He looked me up and down with a sneer.
“You don’t look as sick. I guess that’s an improvement,” he shrugged.
“Look, the entire building my restaurant was in is yours now. Can’t you just take that in place of the debt?” I asked.
He shook his head, “I already own the building. That doesn’t cancel your debt. That was just collateral. I can open a business there if I want, but you owe me a hell of a lot of money. You’re gonna have to hustle. You’re ten years older than the girls I got making serious bank on the street. If you don’t do good turning tricks, you can run product, but the money’s slower.” He chuckled a little.
I had a feeling he was just playing with me, that this was about control and punishment, not the bottom line. I gritted my teeth and didn’t answer back because I was still chained up. And this bastard had the final word on when and if I got food and water. If survival depended on him, at least for now, I could be quiet. I might not be passive—that wasn’t in me at all—but I could act like I was going along. I even lifted teary eyes to meet his like a silent plea for mercy. If he didn’t look too close obviously and see my murderous wishes for him.
When he left and my guard came in for the bucket, I asked him, “What do you think he’s going to do with me?”
“Boss is weighing his options.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He just looked at me.
“I’m Liza. You probably knew that already. But I know you don’t do this for fun obviously—it’s your job. I appreciated the blanket a lot when you gave it to me. I thought I was dying. So—thanks,” I said. I begrudged the minor politeness to him because I hated him, but I needed to try to build a tenuous connection, make him see me as human at least. He shrugged and didn’t answer.
“You could
’ve done anything to me and nobody would’ve said a word. But you didn’t. You’ve been nothing but calm and respectful and you’ve tried to help me. Even when I was flipping out and screaming.” I had to stop because I was laying it on pretty thick there with the fake gratitude.
“It’s a job,” he said flatly. Not that he was sorry it had to be this way or that he wished he could let me go. Nope. Just ‘it’s a job.’ Like he delivered for fucking Domino’s or something. But I swallowed my pride once more.
“What’s his plan? Please,” I said humbly. “I know I can’t get away. I just need to know what to expect. It makes it less—horrible, I guess.” I looked up at him with what I hoped was an appeal in my eyes.
He didn’t answer me.
“He’s gonna keep the building and still punish me, isn’t he?” I answer. I knew the answer. I just didn’t know when. That when was hanging over me like a headsman’s ax.
When he left me alone there in the dark and the cold, I sobbed. It all overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears at all anymore.
25
Tommy
It was the longest two damn days of my life. Longer than the first two days of Hell Week when I was pretty sure I was gonna fail. Longer than my hitch in Syria when I was as good as dead. Just waiting for the call from the PI. When his number finally lit up my phone, I dropped it when I tried to answer it. I hurried into the office where I could have quiet for the call.
“Shit. Hello. I’m here,” I said.
“I found out the backstory. I tracked down the manager of the restaurant. Name’s Marley. She had some pretty interesting story about how the bank wouldn’t finance the restaurant because Liza didn’t have much credit history or anyone to co-sign. So she went to a private lender.”
“Loan shark?”
“Bingo,” he said, “and they kept hiking the interest. She couldn’t keep up. Downsized staff and did most of the work herself and still couldn’t make ends meet and make the payments, too. So she had to shut it down.”
“So she ran off to get away from the loan shark she couldn’t pay. That’s why she came here,” I said, shaking my head. It made perfect sense. The fake name, taking the job in a bar instead of some classy resort restaurant. I thanked him and told him to keep me in the loop.
I came out and found Connor, “I can’t believe I didn’t trust my gut. She was on the run from a loan shark when she came here. I bet that guy who was watching her was working for them. That’s what got her spooked. She didn’t just run out on me. She was running scared. She’s probably holed up someplace even crappier than that motel, trying to stay out of sight. She’s in trouble.”
“Then you have to do something about it. And I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I was glad to have his help. He’d always been our leader in rough times, and this was one of the worst.
“You call the others. We’ll work out a schedule so they can cover for us. Where we going?”
“Sweet Home Chicago,” I said with a groan.
“It’s gonna be fuckin’ cold in Chicago,” he said. “Better pack some winter clothes.”
“I’m gonna have to buy some first,” I said. “I’ll run to the sporting goods place on my break and get us some outerwear.”
“Did you say outerwear? Say coats and sweatshirts, Jesus, you’re a man, not a runway model,” Connor smirked. I rolled my eyes. I felt better knowing we were heading to find her, that he was going along with me.
I loaded up on Patagonia fleece and got talked into buying something called a base layer for me and Connor—knowing how long we’d been in the islands, we’d freeze otherwise according to the sales clerk. I hoped she worked on commission because the living would be easy for her after selling me base layers and socks and boots and coats and everything. I made a note in my phone to remember to donate all of it before we left Chicago. I remembered the days of getting our boots from Goodwill and thought this shit would make some kid’s day when we were done.
Back at the pub, I found all my brothers sitting at a table with Connor. They had phones and tablets out. I went in back and grabbed some snacks for them and made up a pitcher of my Paradise Punch. We could all use one to take the edge off. They were running through the logistics of how to keep the pub and all their businesses running in our absence. I didn’t know how to tell them how grateful I was. They were volunteering to spend time away from their families to cover for us while Connor and I went all the way back to Chicago to track down Liza.
I started to interrupt, “Guys, I can’t thank—"
“Stop,” Mickey said. “Do you remember when Karin got taken? Everything you did, all of us did? This is family.”
“I know this is a lot and I’ll pay you back—I’ll cover every one of you for a couple days at your job so you can catch up on time with your kids.”
“Are you shitting me?” Billy asked. “Like Mick said, we’re family. Family takes care of family. No repayment needed bro.
“Are you bastards gonna sing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough now? Or can we get back to scheduling?” Connor grumbled.
We hunkered down and figured out how to manage everything among the three of them and the staff so Connor and I could be gone three or four days at most. The idea of it taking that long bothered me. I had this picture in my mind of getting off the plane and going to find her. The PI would have more information for us by the time we were on the ground. I was ready to charge in with guns blazing. It wasn’t even a figure of speech. I’d killed men for less, and if someone had taken her, if she wasn’t just laying low, there would be nine kinds of hell to pay and I’d be the devil who delivered.
Chapter 25
Tommy
It was the longest two damn days of my life. Longer than the first two days of Hell Week when I was pretty sure I was gonna fail. Longer than my hitch in Syria when I was as good as dead. Just waiting for the call from the PI. When his number finally lit up my phone, I dropped it when I tried to answer it. I hurried into the office where I could have quiet for the call.
“Shit. Hello. I’m here,” I said.
“I found out the backstory. I tracked down the manager of the restaurant. Name’s Marley. She had some pretty interesting story about how the bank wouldn’t finance the restaurant because Liza didn’t have much credit history or anyone to co-sign. So she went to a private lender.”
“Loan shark?”
“Bingo,” he said, “and they kept hiking the interest. She couldn’t keep up. Downsized staff and did most of the work herself and still couldn’t make ends meet and make the payments, too. So she had to shut it down.”
“So she ran off to get away from the loan shark she couldn’t pay. That’s why she came here,” I said, shaking my head. It made perfect sense. The fake name, taking the job in a bar instead of some classy resort restaurant. I thanked him and told him to keep me in the loop.
I came out and found Connor, “I can’t believe I didn’t trust my gut. She was on the run from a loan shark when she came here. I bet that guy who was watching her was working for them. That’s what got her spooked. She didn’t just run out on me. She was running scared. She’s probably holed up someplace even crappier than that motel, trying to stay out of sight. She’s in trouble.”
“Then you have to do something about it. And I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I was glad to have his help. He’d always been our leader in rough times, and this was one of the worst.
“You call the others. We’ll work out a schedule so they can cover for us. Where we going?”
“Sweet Home Chicago,” I said with a groan.
“It’s gonna be fuckin’ cold in Chicago,” he said. “Better pack some winter clothes.”
“I’m gonna have to buy some first,” I said. “I’ll run to the sporting goods place on my break and get us some outerwear.”
“Did you say outerwear? Say coats and sweatshirts, Jesus, you’re a man, not a runway model,” Connor
smirked. I rolled my eyes. I felt better knowing we were heading to find her, that he was going along with me.
I loaded up on Patagonia fleece and got talked into buying something called a base layer for me and Connor—knowing how long we’d been in the islands, we’d freeze otherwise according to the sales clerk. I hoped she worked on commission because the living would be easy for her after selling me base layers and socks and boots and coats and everything. I made a note in my phone to remember to donate all of it before we left Chicago. I remembered the days of getting our boots from Goodwill and thought this shit would make some kid’s day when we were done.
Back at the pub, I found all my brothers sitting at a table with Connor. They had phones and tablets out. I went in back and grabbed some snacks for them and made up a pitcher of my Paradise Punch. We could all use one to take the edge off. They were running through the logistics of how to keep the pub and all their businesses running in our absence. I didn’t know how to tell them how grateful I was. They were volunteering to spend time away from their families to cover for us while Connor and I went all the way back to Chicago to track down Liza.
I started to interrupt, “Guys, I can’t thank—"
“Stop,” Mickey said. “Do you remember when Karin got taken? Everything you did, all of us did? This is family.”
“I know this is a lot and I’ll pay you back—I’ll cover every one of you for a couple days at your job so you can catch up on time with your kids.”
“Are you shitting me?” Billy asked. “Like Mick said, we’re family. Family takes care of family. No repayment needed bro.
“Are you bastards gonna sing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough now? Or can we get back to scheduling?” Connor grumbled.
We hunkered down and figured out how to manage everything among the three of them and the staff so Connor and I could be gone three or four days at most. The idea of it taking that long bothered me. I had this picture in my mind of getting off the plane and going to find her. The PI would have more information for us by the time we were on the ground. I was ready to charge in with guns blazing. It wasn’t even a figure of speech. I’d killed men for less, and if someone had taken her, if she wasn’t just laying low, there would be nine kinds of hell to pay and I’d be the devil who delivered.
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