She stared up at him, and found a pair of vivid blue eyes looking back at her. Her rapid breathing heated and cooled her nose with each inhale and exhale against his hand.
“Calm down; I'm not going to hurt you.” The gentle tone of his voice tweaked a part of her subconscious that told her he was telling the truth. “If you can promise not to scream, I'll remove my hand so we can talk. Okay?” His voice held a slight trace of an accent. Possibly Romanian, but she couldn't be sure because it was so subtle.
It took Brooke a few seconds to process what was happening, and weigh the risks of trusting this stranger. She finally gave a small nod of her head. He removed his hand and took a step back.
“Are you all right?” He asked.
Still pressed against the wall with her arms curled against her chest, she gave another small nod. “Who are you?”
He sighed, and rubbed one of his sleepy eyes with the heel of his hand. “Let's sit down and talk. I'll explain everything the best I can.”
She followed him to the table at the small dining area and sat down.
“You hungry? Want me to order some room service?”
Brooke nodded without a second thought. Hell yes, she wanted room service. She was starving.
“Pancakes sound okay? They have really good ones here.”
She gave another nod. “Are you going to tell me who you are?”
The man leaned forward in his chair, placing his folded hands on the table. “First, we're going to talk about who you are. Are you Brooke Kennedy?”
She froze. How did he know who she was?
“Y—yes. How did you know?”
“Your father reported you missing two nights ago.”
“And how did you know that?”
“Because I saw the alert the State Department sent out. I was already in town on business.”
Brooke blinked her eyes a few times. “You work for the government?”
The man nodded his head, his lips pressed together with a quiet “Mm-hm.”
“You still haven't told me your name.” The lack of an introduction was beyond irritating.
“Over here I go by Alexandru Cuza, but you can call me Dorin.”
Brooke scoffed, looking down at her folded hands in her lap, then back up at the man. “What are you, like a spy or something?”
He froze; his lips gave a tiny tick as if he were surprised by her flippant guess. Oh... he was.
“Oh, um...” Her voice was quieter than she expected. “I guess you couldn't tell me if you were.” She took a deep breath. “So, will I be going home soon?”
“First, we'll eat some breakfast. Then I'll see if I can have the concierge get some clothes up here for you. After that, we'll go to the U.S. Embassy to turn you over for debriefing. Then they'll take care of your transportation after that.”
Brooke tilted her head. “Debriefing? What's that?”
“That's where you sit in a room with incredibly dull people and recount every detail of what's happened, and answer a thousand annoying questions. Very boring, very tedious, but very necessary.”
That meant—she'd have to relive every moment of her kidnapping. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do that. She just wanted to be on the next plane back home. Preferably to Georgia if she had a say. She wasn't spending another second in Romania, regardless if her father was here.
“Do I have to do that?”
Dorin's expression softened; he almost looked sympathetic. “Yes, Brooke, you have to. It'll suck, I know, but they need to know what happened to you. Every detail you can think of, no matter how uncomfortable it will be to talk about. They can arrange for a female to take your statement if that will make you more comfortable.
“Will you be there?” She couldn't figure out why, but she was oddly comfortable with the idea of telling Dorin her story. Maybe the fewer people she had to talk to, the better.
Dorin took a deep breath. “I don't know if they'll let me, but I can ask when I take you to the Embassy. Only if you want me there, of course.” This man saved her life; he deserved to know what he saved her from.
Brooke nodded. “How did you find me?” She only had tiny fragments of memory from the day before. Perhaps that was for the best.
“I—um,” Dorin stammered as he ran his fingers through his thick hair. “I kind of bought you.”
Brooke's eyes popped wide and her mouth fell open in complete shock. “You bought me? What the hell does that mean?”
“Remember when I said I go by Alexandru Cuza here?” He let the question hang; obviously hoping she'd realize it on her own.
And she did. More scattered pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You were undercover.” She'd watched enough spy movies to have a vague understanding.
Dorin's lack of reply was her answer.
Saved by MasterCard... it was almost comical. Her white knight was an undercover spy staying in a five-star hotel.
Dorin took a deep breath, and lightly slapping both hands on the table as he leaned back in his chair. “I'm hungry; I'm calling for room service.” He got up from the table and called their breakfast order in—two orders of pancakes, lots of bacon, orange juice, and coffee. Her stomach practically screamed at her.
“How much did you pay for me?” She asked a few minutes later as Dorin came out of the bathroom. It was by far the strangest question she had ever asked in her life. Morbid, yet still a little funny.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“Holy fuck!” Brooke blurted out. She rarely cussed, but this time it was appropriate.
As if he couldn't stop himself, Dorin's face spread into a smile and he chuckled at her outburst. He had a nice smile; it softened his face and lit up his bright blue eyes.
Breakfast arrived, and Brooke had never been so happy to see food. She struggled to stop herself from eating too fast and making herself sick.
“Ohh...” Brooke moaned in delight. “You were right, these are good.”
“Told you,” Dorin smiled behind his fork. “Their omelets are good too.”
They ate in silence for a few more moments. The welcome buzz of caffeine helped clear the remaining head funk. She felt great overall—rested, recharged, as if she had one of the best nights' sleep of her life.
“So, where are you from?” Dorin asked.
Brooke tapped her lips with her finger in the universal sign to wait until she had swallowed her mouthful of food. “Originally, I'm from Savannah, Georgia. But I'm living in Baltimore right now.”
“Yeah, I thought I picked up a little bit of a southern accent.” Dorin took a drink of his coffee. “What are you doing in Baltimore?”
“I'm in medical school at Johns Hopkins. Third year.”
Dorin's eyes flashed with fascination. “Very cool. So you came over here to visit your father?”
Brooke nodded. “And look how that turned out.” Her eyes dropped to her plate. She smoothed her hair nervously. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Dorin didn't look at her as he answered; he just focused on spearing a piece of pancake with his fork.
“Where are you from? You have an accent but I can't place it.”
“I was born right here in Bucharest, but moved to the States as a kid. Got my citizenship, went to college, and was in the Marines.” He gave a noncommittal shrug. “That's pretty much it.”
“You mean that's pretty much all you can tell me, right?” Hell, he hadn't even said his last name.
He looked up and met her eyes. “You got it.”
After breakfast, Dorin called down to the concierge and gave them Brooke's sizes to have clothes brought up to her. A hot shower, and a warm, fluffy bathrobe did a world of good for her mood. She was dreading the debriefing; so much of her ordeal she never wanted to remember, much less talk about. She still didn't remember anything from the night before. She had no idea what drugs they had given her, only that it was given through her nose with an atomizer.
Before her shower, she had given herself
as thorough of an exam as she could. She cringed when she removed the t-shirt Dorin had put her in, and found herself still dressed in the trashy, cheap bra and panties. She yanked them off and threw them in the trash. Her skin was marked with a few scattered bruises, but other than that, she didn't hurt anywhere. She was relatively sure she had not been raped since she was not sore, bleeding, or swollen between her legs. That was the first thing she’d checked when she got in the shower.
She came out of the bathroom to find a shopping bag sitting next to the door, and she closed the door again to change. A few minutes later, she was in clean, properly fitting clothes. It was an inexpensive hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and plain cotton undergarments. Nevertheless, nothing had ever felt better in her life.
Giving her damp hair one more comb-through, she left the bathroom.
Dorin was still sitting at the table, drinking another cup of coffee. He had changed clothes too, and was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He turned his head when she walked out of the bathroom.
“Better?”
Brooke nodded. “Much, thank you.”
“The clothes fit okay?”
“Yeah, they're fine.” She gave a small smile.
Dorin mirrored her smile as he rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket. “Well, let's get you to the Embassy. I'm sure you'd like to get this over with and get home.”
Boy, did she ever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?” Brooke asked after remaining silent for most of the drive to the Embassy.
Dorin glanced over at her from the driver's seat. “Depends on what you ask, but I will try.” There were so many answers that she deserved, and so many that he couldn't tell her. National security could be a real bitch sometimes.
“Who took me?”
Dorin took a deep breath, and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “That part I don't know if I can tell you yet. I'm not saying I can't, I'm just saying I'll have to find out for sure what I can and can't tell you about that.”
Brooke sighed, her head falling back against the headrest. “Okay, fair enough.” She chewed her thumbnail for a moment, deep in thought. “Well, can you at least tell me about last night?” One of the side effects of the drugs they gave her was amnesia. It was no wonder she had holes in her memory that one could drive a truck through.
“You were put up for bid at an auction with several other women. Girls. All younger than you. What I can tell you is one of the most elusive and notorious sex traffickers in the world kidnapped you. You were drugged, dragged up on stage in nothing but a bra and panties for a bunch of perverts to bid over.” God, it killed him to even remember that himself. The dazed and flat expressions in the eyes of those poor girls haunted him.
Brooke scoffed. “And yet you bought me for what my car costs.”
“I had to get you out somehow without compromising my cover.” He felt like such a shit for saying it, but that's exactly how it had to happen.
“What about the other girls? What happened to them?”
Dorin's hand tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched for a moment. He hated to think about it. “I don't know, Brooke. Three were sold before you; I don't know to whom.”
“So you just left an unknown number of young girls to be sold and abused and God-knows what else just to get me out?” She shot him an incredulous, maybe even a disgusted, glare. She drew in a deep breath, massaging her temples in frustration. “Jesus Christ, Dorin.” she groaned. “That doesn't even make a little bit of sense! One person over several, how is that fair?”
Ah, fuck. I don't even know. “Don't think I haven't asked myself that same question a hundred times since last night.” She had every right to be mad at him. He’d wondered if the little good he’d done somehow balanced the ugliness that he’d had to overlook. He operated in such a vast gray area that he often had trouble distinguishing right from wrong. It killed him.
He risked another glance over at her. His heart dropped into the floorboard of the car when he saw her lower lip trembling and tears gathering in her eyes.
“You mean,” she whispered, “there's nothing you can do for them?”
Dorin shook his head. “Not right now, no. However, if I do my job right, the man who took you will never snatch another girl. You have my word.” God, he wanted her to believe him so bad. He needed her to trust him, to realize that while he had acted in her best interest, he would continue to bring Anton and his syndicate down.
They pulled into the parking garage at the Embassy, stopping the car at the checkpoint. Dorin flashed his ID at the guard, and he explained who Brooke was. The guard opened the gate, and waved them through.
They walked in through a private entrance and immediately were escorted to an interview room. Brooke began to sit down in a chair, but a man came storming into the room.
“Brooke!” he cried. Brooke jumped from her chair, and ran up to him.
“Dad!” She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Ah, her father. It occurred to Dorin that he had no idea what the Ambassador to Romania even looked like.
Richard Kennedy squeezed his daughter tight, holding her head close to him and crying into her hair. “I thought you were dead, Button!” The man was a solid knock away from hysterics.
“I'm fine, Dad, I promise.” She pulled away, and she faced Dorin. “This man saved me.”
Richard immediately stepped toward Dorin, and gave him by far the most awkward hug Dorin had ever received in his life. Not that it was something he engaged in often. His eyes popped wide as he stared at Brooke over her father's shoulder, no doubt with pure confusion and embarrassment on his face.
“Thank you!” Richard hugged Dorin tight. “Thank you for saving my little girl!” He stepped away. “What's your name, son? I'll make sure you receive a glowing commendation.”
He cleared his throat nervously. Guess it was time to cough up a last name. “I'm Dorin Milosovici.”
Richard was about to open his mouth to speak but the door opened again, and two more people walked in. One, Dorin recognized as working for the Agency, a dull, boring sonofabitch, but sharp as hell. The other was a woman that he assumed worked for the State Department.
Ah, the panel has arrived. Anytime a crime victim with ties to Agency operations comes in for debriefing, this standard pair shows up. One usually acted as a liaison between the two agencies, both protecting national security and ensuring they gathered as much Intel as possible. The representative from the Agency was usually the primary interviewer. No doubt, the woman was there to act as a buffer between the two, and make sure Brooke wasn't raked over the coals just to get a few juicy bits of information. As bad as they wanted Anton Vasile, it wasn't worth ripping a terrified woman who had just walked through hell to shreds for that information.
Dorin hovered at the back of the room, leaning against the wall next to Richard.
“Miss Kennedy, I'm Jack Colyer; I represent the Central Intelligence Agency, and this is Gina Haupt with the State Department. We're here to take your statement, as well as ask you some questions of our own.” Jack turned around to face Dorin and Richard. “It's usually better to have as few people in the room as possible, so if you gentlemen wouldn't mind stepping out?”
Dorin pushed away from the wall, his arms still crossed. “Miss Kennedy requested that I be present during her debriefing, and I'm directly involved in the operation tied with this investigation. Whatever information Miss Kennedy has will be helpful to me as well. And, no offense, but I'd rather hear it from her than through a secondhand report a week from now.”
Jack scoffed quietly. Dorin knew the weaselly prick didn't like him, not that he cared. “Very well, Agent Milosovici can stay.” Dorin noticed that Brooke's eyes flashed with surprise at the mention of Agent. Yeah, he hadn't exactly divulged that part definitively.
Richard said his momentary goodbyes to Brooke with a kiss to the top of her head, and left
the room.
Jack straightened his pile of papers in front of him, and set up a recorder. “Are we ready?” He adjusted his glasses on his face. “Do you want a glass of water, or a soda?”
Brooke shook her head. “No, thank you; I just want to get this over with.”
Jack started the recorder. “First things first, let's just start from the beginning. What happened when you were taken?”
Brooke shifted in her seat, her hands folded delicately in her lap. She looked so ladylike sitting like that. Slight, lovely. “I went to dinner with my father two nights ago, I don't know the name of the restaurant, but I'm sure he provided you with it.”
Jack gave a simple “Mm-hm.”
“I had ordered a glass of wine, and I had taken a couple of sips from the glass when I started to feel a little sick. I felt hot, lightheaded, and a little nauseated, so I got up to go to the restroom to splash some cold water on my face. I only made it as far as the hallway outside of the restrooms when one man came out from the ladies' room and a second man from the exit at the end of the hall. They surrounded me, and pressed a rag to my face. I guess it had chloroform or something on it because I passed out.”
Jack and Gina both were scribbling furiously on legal pads. “Would you be able to identify them if you were shown pictures of them?” Jack asked.
Brooke nodded her head. “Absolutely, I'll never forget their faces.”
“And what happened when you woke up?”
Brooke looked over at Dorin for a moment before looking back at Jack, as she was looking to him for some kind of support. “I woke up in the trunk of a car with my hands and ankles tied and a gag in my mouth. We pulled into a garage of some kind, but I have no idea where I was taken. I never saw the outside that I can recall.”
Brooke was starting to become visibly uncomfortable as she continued her story. “I was pulled out of the trunk, and I think there were five other men in the garage with us. They took me down a flight of stairs to another room and put me in a chair. A man sat on the other side of a table, and he told me that he owned me.” She took a deep breath. “That he could sell me or keep me for himself and there was nothing I could do about it. Then, I was taken to a shower stall, stripped, and made to wash.”
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