BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance

by Alana Albertson

  Curaçao was a mere island away.

  Pictures of Annie in various situations raced through my mind. Annie being raped by some sweaty fat ass with tentacle hands and bad breath. Annie shooting up and stoned out of her mind on the dirty floor of a dark room. Annie being beaten by an overenthusiastic pimp with a heavy hand and no one to protect her. Annie crying alone at night because she’d finally given up hope that I would find her.

  Over the years, I’d participated in many missions. Accomplishing them gave me a great sense of pride for my country, but I’d never felt as connected to a mission as I did to this one. I was meant to be in the brothel that night, to choose her, to ask her name. Even my ex-fiancée cheating on me led me to that moment, that decision, because if she had been faithful, I would be married to her and would’ve never set foot in a brothel. I may have many character flaws, but cheating was not one of them.

  As we made our way toward the dock, I breathed in the crisp island air. The stars illuminated the ocean. When was the last time “Star” saw stars? Maybe wherever she was, she had a small window with a glimpse into the night. I closed my eyes for a second and focused on her soul, willing her to feel my presence.

  12

  Patrick

  MY EYES WERE GRITTY FROM lack of sleep and not even the black tar Kyle claimed was coffee could wipe the fog from my brain. A restless night on the piece of shit boat coupled with vivid nightmares of Annie’s fate had me feeling edgy and irritable. I couldn’t relax until we’d gotten this shit done.

  With the boat safely docked in a slip, the three of us made our way through the energetic market, elbowing through hordes of tourists and locals hawking their wares. The sun was already baking a sea of bodies on the stretch of beach, and though I wore faded jeans and a frayed t-shirt with a cap pulled low over my eyes, I felt the heat heavy on my skin. Kyle bought a tacky floral shirt, his attempt to dress like a tourist and blend in. Vic followed at a distance, strolling leisurely from shop to shop along the beachfront road.

  We’d rented a car and reserved a hotel room in the middle of town. Until we found her, we wanted to make sure we were staying in the center of the tourist hub so we could do our best to blend in with the throngs of visitors.

  At night, Kyle, Vic, and I set out again, scouring the red lights. The ones in Curaçao seemed more upscale than the ones in Aruba. Most were set up like bars. Men could sit and order drinks at little tables and chat up the hookers. I guess that was great for the men who liked to pretend these women were actually interested in them, instead of admitting they were paying for sex. I preferred to be honest with my intentions so I never needed to play any games or delude myself any more than I already did.

  After another long night of too many drinks and too bright neon lights, we’d come up empty-handed. No Annie.

  Kyle convinced us to cool off at the hotel bar, Enrique & Richie’s. It was dark and pulsed with loud music, heavy on the bass. Spring break was out in full force. Coeds writhed on the small dance floor with candy-colored drinks and short skirts paired with bikini tops. Most were already halfway to blitzed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if one of them would be the next Annie.

  The other American girl who went missing, Nicole Race, had last been seen at this bar.

  Vic and Kyle hit on girls, but I was too fucking depressed to make small talk. I sat alone at a table in the corner, drinking whiskey. Why should I be out having fun in paradise, while Annie was still turning tricks in hell?

  Think, motherfucker. What am I missing?

  My mind drifted, and I zoned out listening to the Calypso music. The beat of the steel drums shook my shot glass.

  Steel. Drums.

  Annie had said the last thing she’d remembered the morning she had been taken was that the dancer entered her elevator. And she had said she knew Nicole before the poor girl had overdosed. This couldn’t just be a coincidence.

  I glanced over to the dancer and my eyes narrowed. A larger than life man with piercing dark eyes; he wore a pink shirt and danced to those drums as if he didn’t have a care in the world, his arms wrapped around a blonde tourist. And he was wearing a watch. Was it mine?

  I slammed my whiskey glass down, the liquid sloshed over the rim. I’d been wrong before back at the burnt down brothel. I needed to be certain.

  Kyle was busily grinding some girl on the dance floor, so I approached Vic.

  “I need to get out of here. Just going to take a walk.”

  Vic raised his eyebrow at me. He knew me well enough to know something was up. “I’ll go with you. Let me just pull Kyle away.”

  At this point, I had a loose hunch, a clenching in my gut. Ultimately this was my mission, my fight. I’d looked into Annie’s eyes; I’d given her my word. Her freedom was my responsibility. “No man, I’m good. I kind of want to be alone. I’ll meet you back at the room.”

  Vic nodded, patted me on the back. “Okay, bro.”

  I made my way to the alley near the back of the club. There was a van parked there. A crooked tree was painted on its side door. For once, luck was on my side. Our rental car was just up the street. I could watch from inside, and when the band and dancer left, I’d be ready to follow.

  Hours passed. I was tired as fuck but didn’t so much as close my eyes to risk sleep. Staying up casing this van was easy compared to the training I’d endured. In BUD/S Hell Week, I’d survived on only four hours of sleep in five and a half days. To this day, every time I was tired during a mission, I could hear my instructors’ words echo in my head, taunting us, trying to get us to ring the bell three times and quit.

  Anybody who quits right now gets hot coffee and doughnuts. Come on, who wants a doughnut? Who wants a little coffee?

  There was no coffee machine available, so I took a swig of some stagnant bottled water. Time to hurry up and wait.

  Eventually, the five-member band loaded their equipment in the van. But instead of taking off, they milled around, talking and smoking ganja, no sense of urgency at all.

  Another half an hour passed. Finally, they climbed into the van. When it pulled out on to the street, I slowly followed behind them, keeping my distance.

  Dark buildings, broken windows covered by bars. A few blocks away from the tourist hub, we were now in a shantytown. I couldn’t help but fantasize that I was minutes away from seeing Annie again. That in only a few short hours, I’d be able to hold her and tell her that her nightmare was finally over.

  After a few miles along the road, the van stopped in front of a one-story plantation-style house. It wasn’t one of the brothels we’d investigated—I wasn’t even sure if it was a brothel at all. No sign, no man out front, just a door with some metal bars on it and some lights in the windows. If it was a brothel, this one definitely wasn’t one of the legal ones we’d been scoping out in the center of town.

  Could Annie be in there?

  The men got out. Four of them took off in a different parked old model sedan. Then the door to the house opened and the dancer walked inside and greeted another man.

  I took out the binoculars I had stowed in the glove compartment and his face came into focus. It was that pimp. The one I’d given my watch to, I was sure of it.

  Fuck. Annie had to be in there. But was it a brothel? A drug den? Maybe it was a holding place where they drugged up the women before they moved them elsewhere. And how many men? I could see two—the pimp and dancer. But as far as I could tell, only the pimp was armed, with the same AK-47 he had in Aruba slung around his shoulders.

  I drove my car around the building. In a window to the back, I could see a girl stare out the window. She had dark hair, but even with my binoculars that was all I could make out because she had left the window so quickly. Was she Annie? My gut told me she was, but there was only one way to find out.

  I needed my men and my night-ops equipment. I drove back to the hotel, careful to mark the path in my mind.

  I couldn’t wait another day, another chance for them to move her. We had t
o move in tonight.

  One desperate plea. This wasn’t a Hollywood blockbuster or a New York Times best-selling thriller. I knew this time there was no room for excuses, no margin for errors. I had one chance to put the cape on and be her hero.

  13

  Patrick

  I FLIPPED THE LIGHT ON in the hotel room. Kyle was passed out in the bed next to some blonde girl and Vic was crashed on the sofa in the small living area. I knew the drill—if one of us was going to get lucky, he’d head up to the room first. We’d hobble in later when the coast was clear and crash on the floor, giving the loving couple the bed. Of course, Vic never did that to us. He was a serial monogamist. We’d always tease him, but I was starting to think Kyle and I were the ones who were fucked up and Vic had the right idea. I wouldn’t be in this mess now if I hadn’t given in to my needs, but then again I would’ve never found Annie.

  I nudged Kyle. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt. But we need to go.”

  Kyle understood. He rolled over to the girl. “Hey, sweetheart. Sorry, but I need to help my buddy out.”

  The girl nodded, almost looked hurt. She reached for her clothes and got out of bed. I couldn’t help but stare at her naked body. Great ass, perky tits, nice tan skin. She slipped her panties on, then her jeans, and pulled a pink tank top over her head. She either hadn’t been wearing a bra or didn’t bother to look for it. Kyle gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you. We’ll be in town for a little while longer.”

  Kyle actually might call. He straddled the line of commitment-phobe and romantic. His usual M.O. was to start a fling with a girl, swear that she was the one, and then vanish when it got intense, which it always did. Everything we did was intense. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a mellow job, a relaxed life.

  I gave the girl an awkward wave. But because I was paranoid about Annie, I wanted to make sure she was going to be safe. “Where are you staying?”

  “Oh, a hotel down the road. I’m fine to walk.”

  Fuck that. “We’ll take you.”

  She looked at Kyle. “No, I’m okay. Really. It’s just a few blocks.”

  Kyle got dressed. “No, Pat’s right. Sorry, I should have offered myself. We’ll drive you.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay.”

  She slipped into the bathroom. I signaled to the guys to get their guns and night-op gear.

  “It’s on.”

  Vic slipped on his gun. “You found her?”

  “Not sure. Her pimp is there.” I explained about dancer and my watch.

  “Good enough for me.” Kyle loaded his pistol and gathered the bag full of our gear. “Hooyah!”

  Kyle’s girl walked out of the bathroom, her mascara smudged. But at that moment, I didn’t see this nameless girl, I saw Annie. Annie’s eyes. In one careless, drunken night, Annie’s world had changed forever. Spring break, five years ago, a night like this. The girl who stood before me, she didn’t know that Kyle was a good guy. That the three of us weren’t going to gang rape her. But this girl took a chance, a chance on him, a chance with us. In a foreign country, with different laws. These girls had false senses of security, that they were invincible. But all it took was one wrong drink, one wrong man, and they could end up dead, or in a living hell. Just like Annie.

  We headed out of the hotel and piled into the small rental car. We dropped the girl off at her hotel room, Kyle walking her in to make sure she was safe.

  He climbed back into the car. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We’re going to go back and case the place. I’m not even sure Annie is there.”

  This amateur rescue attempt was so different than the missions we usually went on as a Team. We had to clear the house, like we’d done many times in Afghanistan. These traffickers probably only cared about drugs and money; they weren’t going to risk their lives over one hooker. To them, Annie was property. Expendable.

  We parked a block away from the building, put on our gear, and snuck up outside the door. The absence of sound and light made me believe everyone inside was asleep. I wanted this to be clean.

  “I think she’s in that room. Second window to the left.”

  “Let’s check it out.”

  I was a non-practicing Catholic. Even so, every time I went on a mission, I always said a silent prayer.

  Amen. Let’s roll.

  A dog barked in the distance. Kyle and Vic stood watch alongside me as I used my night vision goggles to peer into the window.

  A sink, a bed, some rumpled sheets, a mop of dark hair. I focused the scope. Could I see her face? Her tattoo? The necklace?

  She rolled to her side and her profile came into view. Annie was mere steps away from me, only metal bars and a bunch of lowlifes stood in between her and her freedom. My muscles trembled.

  No time to celebrate—she wasn’t free yet.

  I signaled to my men. With those fucking bars on her window, we couldn’t just grab her. We had to go through the back door.

  I had no intention to kill her captors. My only goal was to save Annie.

  Gun and scope out, I touched the door. No lock. I pushed it in, and motioned for Vic and Kyle to follow. They were right behind me.

  As they scanned for men, I crept down the hall to Annie’s door.

  She was sound asleep, under the covers. Or in a drugged stupor. If I woke her, would she scream?

  Fuck it. I was about to scoop her limp body in my arms, when something under the covers moved.

  A little boy.

  Wavy hair, dark skin. Annie was cuddling his tiny body.

  What the fuck?

  Her eyes opened, startled. She clutched him to her chest.

  “Who’s that?” I whispered.

  “My son. Please, take us away.”

  Her son? She didn’t mention anything about a kid.

  My heart almost pounded out of my chest. Lashes open, hazel eyes glowing. Color returned to her face. Her hope almost brought me to my knees.

  I didn’t have a choice and even if I had, I wouldn’t leave her little boy behind. I scooped them up, praying the little boy wouldn’t wake. Who was his father? If he was the pimp or the dancer, how was I going to take the boy out of here without bloodshed?

  We made it to the living room, and I immediately spied the pimp cowering in the corner. The dancer ducked behind the sofa.

  A light went on; about a dozen half-naked women were huddled in the kitchen.

  The pimp reached for his gun.

  Stupid motherfucker.

  Clickclickclick.

  Kyle discharged his weapon without a second of hesitation.

  A loud thud reverberated on the floor, the pimp’s body now splayed on the ground. Women shrieked. The little boy’s hazel eyes, the same shade as Annie’s, opened yet he remained silent. The smell of gun smoke mixed with rotten food wafted through the air.

  I shifted the boy to my other arm and placed Annie down, her legs shook so bad she dropped to the floor.

  Vic gathered the women, crying and screaming, and secured them in a back room. Then, I handed him the little boy and Vic took him out of the room. He didn’t need to see this.

  Kneeling to the ground, I checked the pimp’s pulse. Gone.

  “Secure!” Kyle yelled.

  I aimed my gun at the dancer. As long as he didn’t do anything dangerous, I’d let him live. His eyes cast a cold glance at Annie. An unspoken command.

  Annie clutched my ankle. “Don’t kill him!”

  I didn’t have time to deal with her attachment to her captor. I shook her off of my leg. “We don’t want to hurt you, man. Forget you ever saw us. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  The dancer laughed. His hand lowered toward his waist, I didn’t have time to disarm him. Too many lives were at stake.

  Poppoppop.

  His body collapsed forward.

  “No!” Annie screamed and tried to run over to him. But I intercepted her and held her back, while Kyle checked the dancer. He was
a goner.

  I signaled to Kyle. “Send it.”

  He threw a stun grenade—we didn’t want to take any chance of another armed man emerging from one of the rooms. A blinding light and booming sound reverberated, leaving anyone left disorientated.

  Done. Let’s get the fuck out of here.

  Vic went in front of me; the little boy cradled in his arms, Kyle had my back. I walked out of that house, carrying Annie. My heartbeat drummed in my chest. I did it.

  She was finally free.

  We dashed into the car, then hightailed it out of there.

  Annie held her son in her lap and rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes, which had seemed so disturbed on the night I had met her, were soft, almost filled with an inner glow.

  Why hadn’t she told me about her son? Did she think I wouldn’t save her if I’d known? Had I just killed his father?

  She held my hand and refused to let go. I didn’t want to let go of her either. I wanted to make sure Annie’s pain had ended and I vowed to protect her until she was safe. This climax, this reunion, we’d both come down from this high soon. The invisible sand hourglass would run out before we both realized it.

  14

  Annie

  THE CAR RACED DOWN THE road, and I didn’t even look at the brothel in the rear view mirror. Was it finally in my past? Could I put this hell behind me?

  I rolled down the window and breathed in the air.

  Freedom.

  The wave of emotions I expected to feel hadn’t hit me yet. I wouldn’t feel safe until I was back on American soil.

  My baby cuddled up next to me; his warm skin trembled. I was all he had left—his father was dead. Killed by the man who I’d begged to rescue me. But I wouldn’t shed a tear for my son’s father, after the hell he put me through.

  I stroked my son’s hair, kissed his forehead. This wasn’t about me, none of it. If it had only been me, I’d have injected an air bubble in my vein years ago. In Gabriel’s three short years, I’d been the best mom I could be to him, despite being a drug addict. I’d tried to quit, so many times, but his father had forced me to shoot up. Keeping me high was a way to control me, prevent me from escaping. And with possession of my son, I’d do anything he asked.