“Slavery has a face. It’s the face of my once-fiancée, the faces of daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives. We’re going to alter that image one pixel at a time. In doing so, we’re attempting to rid the world of this horror. In the future, I plan on putting together a new team that will focus on boys and men who find themselves in a similar predicament. This trip, however, will be focused on the women in this particular compound. It’s one of the largest in North America and we will not go in unarmed. We will, nevertheless, be unwelcome when they realize what we’re there to do. Keep your eyes open and feet on the ground. I’m going to need each and every one of you to get as many of these women out alive as possible.”
A couple of the men and woman clap, but I continue, “Take this as your warning. We’re each putting our lives on the line to save another’s. Once we’re in the air, I will not turn this jet around. If you’d rather not risk your life to save someone who once walked freely and was coerced into sexual exploitation and slavery, then get the fuck off of my jet.”
No one makes the motion to move, and I nod once before taking my seat and my pilot returns to the cockpit to get us into the air.
This is the generation that might have the balls to say enough, and I’ll be leading the way with a handheld flashlight as we force our way through the darkness that has captivated too many souls for my liking. I run a hand down my face and try to focus on the maps that I’ve been handed, but it’s no use. My mind is too preoccupied to plot out an escape route if it comes down to it. I hand the physical maps over to one of my best men and pull out my phone, hoping for a text from Isla, but neither of the two that are waiting for me is from her.
I click on Wade’s message first: Godspeed and then on the one from Adriana: I was told that you were heading back to Mexico. I’ll be thinking about you. Please be safe and call me when you get back to the States.
Goddamn it. I don’t understand why I feel like I’m letting Isla down when I have so many others telling me that I’m doing the right thing here. I shut my eyes and lean my head back against the cold leather as the jet lifts itself into the air.
We’ve landed in Mexico City, and started our trek a couple of hundred miles into the jungle where this camp awaits us. Every second we wait will see another woman suffer, which is why we’re going straight into this fight.
I’ve successfully managed to get our military-grade arsenal shipped here without detection, and it’s all currently loaded in the back of the truck that I’m driving. I know that showing up with this truck may be risky, but I’m banking on them assuming that I’ll be packing it full of women.
Little do they know that I’ll be taking them out in the blink of a fucking eye. Yes, I’ve killed men before, and no, I don’t hold an ounce of guilt over it because I’ve done it to save others.
“Are you ready for this, Jensen? You’ve not done a sting this large before,” my second-in-command, Grady Kent, says. He’s been by my side since he found out about Remission Worldwide on the day that I launched it. He lost his sister to trafficking, and he’s been fighting by my side ever since. He handles the fieldwork more than I do, which is why he’s here today. He understands what I’m getting all of us into, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his sister nor me to stay at home with a beer in hand.
“I don’t think that anyone would ever be prepared enough for what we’re about to witness.”
“Truth, brother. I’m glad that you agreed to join us on this one.”
“I was given the option, and I would not miss it.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t tell my wife that I had the opportunity to step down from the mission. She’ll have my goddamn head.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Hence why I remain single. I don’t need the extra trouble.”
“Nah, it’s no trouble at all. It’s a good feeling to get home after days of dealing with the scum of the world and sinking into her.”
“Spare me the details, mate.”
“I’m sure you’ve got yourself a little lady back home, and I’m sure you understand what it’s like to go home to her.”
I pause as the image of Isla in tears comes to mind. In over nine years, I’ve never once seen Isla cry like that before. To say that it destroyed me is one massive understatement. I saw it at that moment, though; I saw the distance in her eyes. I took her for granted, and I lost her.
“No. There’s no one back home.”
“I doubt that. Don’t screw yourself over, and get out of your own head. You’ve been too quiet on this drive. I’m used to you being an overbearing ass-munch, not this sedated beast. I know that there’s something eating at you, and I’ll bet coinage on it that she’s fucking gorgeous.”
“You pay too much damn attention, Kent.”
He chuckles as we pull through the first checkpoint of the compound. I lay on the brakes and roll down my window, nodding to the fucker who has an assault rifle in his hands.
“Nombre?” he spits out, and I have to hide my smirk.
“Jensen.”
“Qué hay en el camión?”
I don’t bother responding in Spanish. I know that he’s stationed at the first checkpoint because of the sole reason that he’s able to understand and speak English. He’s merely getting what little joy out of life that he can by trying to force me to speak Spanish.
“Space for my purchases.”
He nods to the two men standing beside the heavily rusted gate. Both of them lean into it and push it across its rails until it’s open. Dumb shits, I would never have let a truck like this onto my property without having it inspected first.
He signals for my crew and me to continue, and I do, stepping on the gas and moving forward.
We drive for another fifteen miles before we’re stopped again, and after that, another ten before I shift the truck into park and swing my door open. I’m exhausted from the flight and travel, but as soon as my boots hit the rough jungle floor, all of my senses seem to awaken and heighten at once. It’s go time, fuckers.
The process starts off slowly with a couple of handshakes and introductions, but the second my foot hits the last step of the underground maze, my team falls into action. The loud and abrasive noises last for a good hour before I’m surrounded by a deathly silence.
I don’t count the number of men I’ve stepped over or how many rounds I still have available in my gun as I start the truck up as the last of my guys helps a couple more women out of the underground hell that they have been living in. Surviving in. Dying in.
The raid went as planned and we pulled more women out of that hole than I would have predicted. A total of a hundred and nine of them are now sitting pretty in my first safe house just outside of Guatemala City. We blew through the border last night, and now we wait for the plane I’ve chartered to get these women onto US soil. The few women who are from Central America, I’ve handed over to the Guatemalan authorities with a handful of my men to ensure that they get where they need to go once they feel secure enough to leave the safe house.
To my horror, we lost a total of two men out of the seventeen who were with me. I won’t forgive myself for their deaths. It’s another notch that the sculptor has taken out of who I am, but I remind myself that they knew what they were getting into. Like me, they dedicated their lives to saving others.
I’ll be the one to knock on the doors of their homes to inform their families of their loss as soon as I get back tomorrow. Meanwhile, RW will start to help get these women settled into a safe house as close as we can get them to their homes where medical and psychological evaluations will be performed on each of them.
“Jensen,” a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, drawing me away from my ongoing thoughts. I turn and look up at Grady.
“What?”
“You need to rest up. You haven’t slept since you left Chicago. That’s closing in on three days now.”
A façade of a chuckle moves past my lips as I shake my head. “I couldn’t even if I tried.”
&nbs
p; “Doubtful, brother. Listen, the team has put something together for your birthday. I’d appreciate it if you got your ass to bed so that they can attempt to surprise you with some apparently expensive-ass whiskey that one of the boys brought along.”
“Fuck. That word should be scripted on my body somewhere. It’s one of the few things that keeps my heart fucking beating.”
“Quit being a pussy and get some much-needed rest before they barge in on you, mate.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He leaves me be for a moment of silent reprieve before I get up from my seat on the porch and make my way to the truck where I plan on crashing for the night.
As much as I can cut back on the terrified screams of the women while they sleep, I will. Fuck, what I wouldn’t do to feel stone cold after a long drag of something powerful and relieving.
The next day passes without consequence. The team handed me a bottle of the Macallan 30-Year-Old Sherry Oak that I’m currently sipping on in my hotel room in Dallas, Texas. The rich mahogany color looks impeccable behind the crystal tumbler.
I get up and walk to the window before taking a long drink of the deliciously smooth Scotch with dried fruits, sherry, orange, and wood smoke. The flavors sit on my tongue as the spice develops and the finish stays just long enough for me to take the next sip. There’s no better way to drink this antique gold than straight.
Today may be my thirty-second birthday, but it’s not worth celebrating while I’m here in Dallas to deliver the news of the death of a man who should still be alive to raise his three girls.
My phone vibrates with a text message informing me that my ride is here. I grab my wallet after swallowing the remainder of the smooth experience, savoring every moment of it that I’m able to.
As one would imagine, I wasn’t welcomed with open arms. His wife and girls shut down the moment they saw me on their doorstep. I managed to tell them as little as possible in an attempt to avoid causing further distress. Yet as they sat in front of me while I informed them that they wouldn’t have to pay for his funeral or even concern themselves with the arrangements, it was difficult to keep my mind clear. It’s tough not to get carried away with the thought of who might be informed of my death if it was to happen while I was out in the field.
Sure, my parents would be the first to know, but whom would they tell next? Waylon? Isla?
Isla.
Fuck.
Once I’ve said my goodbyes I head to the airport to board my jet to Seattle, Washington, where I’ll need to inform the next family and watch them fall apart in front of me as well.
By the time I get to the jet, I’ve received more than a handful of messages from people I’ve once considered friends, sending me well wishes on my birthday, but regardless of how many times I check my phone, the one name I’m longing to see come across my screen doesn’t.
I burnt that bridge, but I can’t stop myself from asking why she hasn’t tried to cross it again, whether for our friendship or something more. I may still be alive after this mission, but I feel dead inside.
The beautiful thing about life, though, is that it’s forgiving and allows us the opportunity to move forward. Isla might not feel either sentiment toward me right now, but I seem to have caught hold of these feelings for her like a motherfucking amateur. She tripped me, and I don’t have the strength to stand and run again.
Moments of realization are some of the best things about life, but they are ones that we can’t share with others because it would take the stark beauty out of them. I may not have the ability to love her as she deserves, but I believe in that click that I have with Isla, and it’s more than enough to make me want to go after it, to pursue it until she has no other option but to allow me back in.
Clarity. It’s what brings the lost home.
I turn over and push the comforter off of my face before reaching onto the nightstand where my phone has lit up with an incoming call. My mind is foggy with sleep, so I squeeze my eyes shut as I blindly answer it.
“Hello?” I say, my voice too groggy.
“Hi, baby doll.”
I inhale a fresh breath of air for what feels like the first time in five days. The sound of his voice is like ice-cold water on my face, breaking me out of any residual sleep.
“Liam? What time is it?”
“It’s late . . . well . . . early. I just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry to wake you.”
A thick wave of chills ripples over my chest and move down through my body as I pull the comforter over my head again. He may not be able to see me, but I’m hiding nonetheless.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me. Where are you?”
“I just got to Seattle,” he says, ignoring my comment altogether.
“Seattle? As in Washington State?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were going to Mexico.”
“I went, and we did what we needed to do. I lost two of my men, which is why I’m here.”
I sit up straight in my bed while my heart struggles to pump enough blood and oxygen to the rest of my body. “Oh God. Please tell me that you’re okay?”
His chuckle is sugar-sweet, and it makes me fall for his ass even more than I already have. It doesn’t matter that I can’t rewind and make him shove those hurtful words back into his mouth because he broke the best part of me. What I feel for this man won’t let up—not after what he’s made me feel.
“Do you think that you’re going to get rid of me that easily?”
I stay quiet because I’m unsure how he wants me to respond to that little statement.
“Isla?”
“Yes?”
“I’m fine if you look past the bruises and the couple of lines of scratches down my back. I’m just exhausted.”
A thrill pushes its way into my heart, and I have to fight it down. “I’m glad that you’re okay. Are you . . .” I pause because I don’t know if I have the right to ask him questions like this anymore, but against my better judgment, I proceed anyway. “Are you going to be back in Chicago anytime soon? We need to talk.”
“Yeah, I’ll be back in about a week. I need to help with these funeral arrangements and ensure that the women are settling into their safe houses.” The line goes quiet for a few seconds before I hear his voice again. “Doll?”
“Yeah?”
“We can talk now.”
“I’m not so sure that doing this over the phone will be the right way.”
“Hang up and I’ll FaceTime you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Do it, Isla.”
I cast a glance at what I’m wearing and shrug. “Okay, sure.” I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up on him before he has the opportunity to respond or even change his mind about seeing me.
Deep down, the butterflies are stretching out their dormant wings as I wait to see him.
My phone starts to go off again, and I hold it out in front of me, while I reach over and turn on the lamp on my nightstand.
It takes a moment to connect, and when it does, Liam’s face takes up the majority of my screen. He adjusts the phone in his hand until I’m able to see more of him. My bedroom seems to fill with his level of testosterone in a nanosecond even though he’s thousands of miles away from me. His shoulders are sagging, and he’s unshaven, but he’s still one handsome fuck. Bastard.
“God, what I wouldn’t give to be in that bed with you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and look away from the screen. “Please don’t say things like that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I think we both want you here for two very different reasons.”
“You’re afraid,” he states so easily.
“Of what? Don’t be ridiculous, Liam.”
“Of losing me.”
I look down at my left hand as my fingers play with the edge of my comforter.
“You look beautiful, doll.”
I look up at the screen and s
hake my head as tears threaten to dry me out again. “Please don’t play with me, Liam. I can’t hide what I feel for you anymore. It was never meant to happen, but it did, and I can’t go back right now.”
“I’m not playing. You know too damn well that we’d go insane without each other.”
“Would we?” I feel insecure and empty right now, but seeing him on my screen seems to somehow dislodge both of those feelings.
“Without a single doubt. Isla, I know that what I’ve said has hurt you and that my actions have been anything but what they should be. After living through all of this shit in these last few days, though, I’m beginning to realize that we can’t be just friends when neither of us looks at the other in that way.”
“What do you mean? You’d want me the other way?”
“I’d do almost anything to have you in that way.”
We stare at each other for a few quiet moments before he speaks again.
“The animal inside of me aches for you, but more importantly, the chemistry that we share is too powerful to be ignored any longer.”
“I thought that you didn’t notice it.”
“I’ve known that it’s been there for a while, but I tried to cover it up. Being away from you right now, though, has made me realize just how fucked up that was.”
I can see the hesitation in his eyes, and I somehow manage to gather up my courage to call him out on it. “Why are you telling me this as if you’re afraid that you’re going to fall in love with me?”
His answering smile almost makes me forget to draw in a sufficient amount of oxygen into my lungs.
“Take a deep breath and tell me that you love me too, baby doll.”
“What?” I choke out.
“You heard me. I got a little lost between referencing the past and facing the future, but I’m here now, and I acknowledge that I’ve fucked up more than I care to admit, but I’m asking you to be patient with me. Let me be that lifeline for you while I still have the courage to ask you and tell you this. Isla?”
“Yes?”
Intertwined: A Redemption Novel Page 14