There weren’t that many young women, but of the five that were there, all were blond and all looked like they’d just barely reached adulthood. Three sat huddled in a corner, gripping each other with everything they had, while two lay on the floor, one with her back against a wall and the other in the middle of the room—both looked like they’d been dumped there and hadn’t moved since. Those two wore no clothes and their bodies were marked with bruises, burns, and even blood.
“Can you bring me two shock blankets from the boat? Officer?” Alexis asked the SWAT member who’d stayed behind with them.
“Hill,” the man provided.
“Thank you, Officer Hill. We need the EMTs, too,” she said. Her voice was steady and firm, but he could hear the strain of anger.
“And make sure they are women,” Isiah added. The man nodded then stepped out to get the blankets, radioing in the call at the same time.
Alexis knelt beside the young woman lying with her back to the wall and gently brushed her hair away from her face as she murmured quiet words intended to comfort. Hill returned and handed her the blankets. In low tones, Alexis asked if one of the three young women—girls?—could help. As Alexis draped one of the blankets on the girl in front of her, one of the three from the corner scrambled forward and snatched up the second shock blanket. Quickly, she draped it over the other naked young woman before returning to the corner.
His mind was so focused on the young woman Alexis examined—on the unmistakable marks on her face given to her by some man, or men—that he didn’t really hear a word she or anyone else said. Then suddenly, Alexis’s head snapped up and she met his gaze as they both listened to the communications coming through their earpieces. They remained silent as Beni spoke, then he stilled, waiting for Alexis’s instruction. Alexis’s eyes searched his for a fleeting moment. Then she gave a little nod to no one in particular. “He’s on his way,” she said to her teammate.
Switching her mic off, she asked, “You good with the plan?” There was a hostage situation upstairs and Beni had requested his assistance. It never hurt to have an extra snipper-trained resource on hand.
He scanned the area, taking in the women, as well as Hill, who still stood guard at the door. “You going to be okay?”
She nodded. “Go. The EMTs will be here shortly and I need to stay here with them.”
He lingered for a short moment, then he nodded and started toward the stairwell.
“I want Gregson to rot in hell for this,” she said, giving voice to his thoughts.
He paused and studied her face one more time. He was pretty sure she wasn’t suggesting killing the man, but even if she had, he could hardly blame her. Or maybe he didn’t mind the implication so much because her words mirrored his feelings and validated his thoughts. He didn’t stay to discuss the matter, though, and in seconds, he was moving up the stairs while receiving directions from Beni.
Alexis watched Isiah disappear up the stairs then returned her attention to the bloodied, beaten, and no doubt sexually assaulted, young woman on the floor. Her pulse was strong and Alexis knew that her physical recovery would be the easiest part.
Cataloging the injuries—at least the visible ones—Alexis once again damned Peter Gregson to hell. She’d told Isiah she wanted Gregson to pay and she did. She wouldn’t be sorry if he got caught in any crossfire, but she wanted the world to see him as he really was—a kidnapper, a rapist, a bully. She wanted to see him stripped of all his privilege and entitlement and reduced to nothing—that would be a much better punishment.
One of the young women in the corner inched her way apart from the other two. “Can I help?” she asked. “Please,” she added.
Alexis recognized the look in her eye—it was all too familiar. The need to do something, to have some sort of control.
Keeping her mic off so as not to distract her teammates, she nodded and gestured to the girl she’d just examined. “Can you come here and sit with her while I check the other? The paramedics will be here soon, but I want to check her myself.”
The young woman scooted forward and gently picked up the unconscious girl’s hand.
“What’s your name?” Alexis asked.
“Cindy, I’m from Miami,” she answered, her eyes never leaving her fellow captor’s face. “This is Jane and that’s Carrie.” She pointed first to the woman whose hand she held then to the woman lying in the middle of the floor.
“Taken from the streets?” Alexis guessed as she moved toward Carrie.
“Yes. We didn’t know each other before, but we all just aged out of foster care. I met a guy who seemed to like me.” Cindy’s voice cracked a little bit and Alexis glanced over. “Such a cliché, I know. I should have known better.”
Alexis picked up her examination of Carrie again. She looked a little less physically battered than Jane, but Alexis suspected she’d been drugged. Thankfully, her breathing was deep—slow, but deep.
“No one should need to think about being trafficked. I know that’s not the way of the world and I know women do have to think about it, but don’t be too hard on yourself,” Alexis said.
“Ma’am?” Hill said. “The EMTs are here.”
Alexis stood as six women with two gurneys arrived. Once they started working on Jane and Carrie, she turned away to begin questioning Cindy and the other two young women who appeared physically unharmed. She was halfway across the room when chatter from her teammates froze her in place.
She’d been half listening to them as they navigated the house and the hostage situation, but there was no mistaking the tone of Beni’s voice now—they’d reached the crisis point.
Alexis glanced at the stairs and debated whether or not to join her teammates, but with Beni’s next words, she knew it would be too late.
“Take the shot, Clarke,” she heard. Then the report of a weapon filled her earpiece. Her heart stopped and she sucked in a breath. Logically, it was Isiah who’d fired the weapon on Beni’s command. But in those split seconds of silence that followed the deafening sound, all sorts of images of Isiah bleeding, injured, and even dead, flashed through her mind.
Adrenaline flooded her system, pricking at her nerves like tiny little knives. Her blood vessels expanded and she fought the urge to race upstairs. Then finally, after what felt like ages, Beni gave the all clear. In the stillness that followed, Alexis realized that her entire body was shaking. Not since being freed from her own captors all those years ago had her body responded with this level of fear. She had known Isiah was different, she’d known they had a connection, but until this moment, she hadn’t recognized how primal that connection was.
“Clear,” Beni said, followed closely by, “Nice shot, Clarke.”
In a daze, Alexis made her way toward the edge of the room and leaned against the wall. Slowly, everything else came back into focus—Hill was standing at attention, his weapon at the ready. Cindy and her fellow captors were once again huddled in the corner. And the EMTs continued to do their work.
Seeing Cindy snapped Alexis from the thoughts swirling in her mind and brought her back to the here and now. “All clear,” she told the room. “You’re safe,” she added, meeting Cindy’s eye. Hill didn’t lower his weapon, but at least everyone in the room seemed to take a collective breath and accept that they were truly, finally safe.
“How are they?” Alexis asked one of the EMTs.
The older woman shot her a look over her shoulder then jerked her head toward Carrie, who now lay on a gurney. “That one’s been drugged. She’s the one we’re most worried about. It’s going to be a hard recovery, but we’re not seeing anything physically life-threatening.”
Alexis nodded and stepped back to let the women finish their jobs. It had been a long night, but looking at Cindy and the two other young women with her—each of whom was being examined by the paramedics—it wasn’t anywhere close to over.
Nor did she want it to be. Not until they had every bit of intel they could get their hands on to bring Pe
ter Gregson, and whomever he worked with, down.
Chapter Seventeen
The clock beside her bed turned over to three o’clock as Alexis walked into the room and started stripping off her clothes. They’d spent the last several hours interviewing suspects and victims, and although she was exhausted, her body hummed with energy.
She glanced toward her bedroom door. Isiah had disappeared into the guestroom as soon as they’d arrived home. Other than the debrief, he’d spoken barely five words since he’d taken the shot that brought Peter Gregson down. Isiah hadn’t killed him—no, the man was currently undergoing shoulder surgery to repair a shattered joint—but even so, Alexis sensed that the fact that he’d taken up a weapon again and actually shot someone, weighed heavily on his mind.
She glanced at the decanter sitting on a table by the sliding door. Standing in her room, wearing nothing but her boy-shorts underwear and a tank top, she considered grabbing a drink and curling up on a divan outside. It would be a poor second choice for what she really wanted to do—go to Isiah—but two doubts held her back from pursuing that path. She didn’t want their first time together to be a cliché, and relieving the tension the night had wrought, through a bout in the sheets was as cliché as it could get. But more importantly, she wasn’t sure he wanted company. Yes, he’d made promises that morning—graphics promises—but that now felt like a lifetime ago. If he needed time to process what had happened at the party, which, judging by the fact he was now in the guestroom, he did, then she wanted to respect that and give him what he needed.
With a sigh, she opted for the balcony and divan. She had the decanter in hand when a knock sounded on her door.
Isiah didn’t wait for her to answer and a second later, he was standing before her. Slowly, he took the decanter from her hand, his gaze never leaving hers, and set it back down on the table.
“This isn’t stress relief. Tell me you know that.” As he spoke, he brought his hand up and brushed her cheek, trailing his thumb along her lower lip.
“This has been a long time coming,” she acknowledged. His pupils dilated at her words and he brought his other hand up to her waist.
“Since the first time you walked into my bar last November.” Gently, he pulled her toward him.
She thought about asking him what this was about—she wanted to hear the words, she wanted to hear him say them out loud. But a flash of vulnerability on his face stopped her and realization set in. The night had affected him in more ways than one. It wasn’t just the shooting that he was grappling with. No, it was his mom and all the times he hadn’t been able to stop his father.
He was hurting and he’d come to her.
She nodded as her fingers slid up his chest to his strong jaw. “This isn’t about what happened tonight. This is about us and what the future might bring. And about how I felt when I heard the shot and, in those few seconds before Beni called it clear when I wondered if it might have been you who’d been hit. I want this. Not just tonight and not just tomorrow. I want this,” she repeated. “I want you.”
She leaned forward and he dipped his head until their lips met. The gentleness with which they touched and explored and healed each other was more intimate than anything she had ever experienced before. There was nothing hurried or frantic in their coming together—no remnants of the adrenaline or fear or anxiety of the past several hours tainted this moment. No, as they undressed and moved to her bed, as they lay down and learned each other’s bodies, as they came together slowly, gliding against each other in an ancient rhythm, there was nothing about the past. Only a promise of a future.
Isiah lay on his side, facing Alexis. She’d opened the sliding door and despite the heat and humidity, the distant sounds of the ocean created a soothing soundtrack in the darkness.
“I’m grateful you came tonight, but how are you?” Alexis asked. He didn’t need clarification of her meaning. Alexis was a smart woman, she’d recognized the connections he’d made in his mind between his mother and the women they freed tonight.
Her hand was tucked under her cheek and he brushed his fingertips along her bare forearm. “I saw women used as an act of war more times than I care to remember when I was deployed. But I hadn’t ever expected to see it here. Not like we did tonight. It’s not that I didn’t know trafficking happened, but I guess I thought that once I was out of the service, the most action I might see would be to escort a drunk from The Shack.”
He paused and rolled onto his back. Alexis’s hand came to rest on his chest and he covered it with his own. “I know there are plenty of capable women out there. I know I’m lying next to one now.” He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “But somehow that doesn’t always matter when I see women being mistreated or heading off into dangerous situations. I know you can take care of yourself, but when I watched you suiting up, or when I saw those young women, I couldn’t help but remember all the times my father went after my mother. And all the times I couldn’t protect her.”
“I was grateful you were there,” Alexis repeated. “But I’ll be honest, I was surprised you agreed to Shah’s plan to come on as a consultant.” She paused, and a small smile teased her lips. “I’d love to know how she managed to bring you on so quickly as a consultant, though. She’s a scary woman sometimes.”
He chuckled at the comment. The ways of Sunita Shah were definitely a mystery. One he wasn’t sure he wanted to—or could—solve. “I don’t plan on doing that again. Being an agent is your job, and while it might give me some heart palpitations when I think about what you do for a living, that’s my problem, not yours. I’m happy being a small business owner. But with this, this particular situation, well, I felt we started it together and so we needed to end it together.”
She sighed and twined her fingers with his before bringing his hand to her lips. “We didn’t start this together. What we started was a simple trip to find a potentially compromised CIA asset and warn him—her—that someone in the agency was selling her identity. The whole trafficking thing is something we kind of fell into.”
She was right, of course. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his involvement. It hadn’t been easy. He hadn’t expected to ever see the things he’d seen earlier that night in his civilian life, and he’d certainly never expected to pull the trigger on a human ever again. But even so, he didn’t regret it. There were eight young women who were no longer victims of trafficking because of what the team had done tonight—the five women in the basement and three they’d found upstairs. He hoped they’d get the help they’d need to recover, but at least they now had the opportunity. And even though he didn’t think Peter Gregson was the head of the ring, Isiah fully anticipated that once they started digging into his finances and movements, the ring would soon unravel.
“Speaking of Serena, did you talk to her—or him—tonight?”
Alexis shook her head. “She was planning to ghost once the SWAT team showed up. I think I might have caught a glimpse of her peeking into the basement, but I haven’t seen her since. I know she contacted Angela Rosen yesterday. Hopefully, it doesn’t take too long to reel her in.”
“How much do you know about how the CIA works? Did she have any idea how long it will take?”
“How much does anyone really know about the CIA?” Alexis said, sarcasm heavy in her tone. “Serena’s plan sounded like it might take at least a few days, if not weeks, but who the hell knows?”
As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait weeks or even days because at eight o’clock the next morning, Alexis’s phone rang and Yael and Eric were sitting in her kitchen with one CIA operative.
Alexis and Isiah jumped into separate showers—too tempting otherwise—and were downstairs within twenty minutes. The scene they walked into wasn’t quite as cozy as Alexis had relayed to him, and while Eric and Serena were at the table, Yael was standing ten feet away, leaning against the wall with a gun in her hand. It wasn’t pointed at anyone, but Isiah didn’t doubt that former
Mossad agent was at the ready.
“Serena met up with Eric on his way to the house this morning,” Yael said, answering the unasked question as to how Serena had ended up at Alexis’s kitchen table. “He called me rather than bring her here. She and I had a little chat about respecting people’s privacy, before I agreed to let her in.”
Alexis’s gaze went from Yael to Serena where it lingered. Then she let out a small, resigned sigh. “Nice to see you, Serena,” Alexis said as she walked over to the coffee maker. “Coffee? Espresso? Latte?” she asked Isiah.
“Coffee is fine,” he answered. She punched a few buttons and in seconds, the sound of coffee beans being ground filled the room.
“So what are you doing here, Serena?” Alexis asked, leaning against the counter.
“Enjoying the coffee and the company,” she said with a grin.
Alexis cocked a brow. “Don’t be annoying. I’ve had four hours of sleep and no coffee. If Yael doesn’t shoot you, I might.”
Serena let out what could only be called a guffaw—a quiet one, but a guffaw nonetheless. “As if.”
“What, are you, fifteen now?” Alexis shot back as she grabbed the cup of coffee that magically appeared from her machine. He’d never been into fancy coffee makers—drip was fine with him—but the speed with which Alexis was handing him a steaming mug had him rethinking his approach.
“What’s going on?” Isiah asked, deciding that since he’d had at least one sip of his morning pick-me-up, he was probably in a better headspace than Alexis.
“Rosen bought it hook, line, and sinker, and she’s flying to Puerto Rico today to meet me.”
The mug Alexis held hit the counter with a thud loud enough that Isiah flinched, then checked to see if it had broken.
“You were concerned about appearing to trust her too quickly. You changed tactic.” Alexis turned back to make her own drink.
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