by Autumn Reed
The sound of the metal lock sliding through the chamber put me on alert, and I smothered the urge to scramble to my feet as the door opened. Despite my relaxed pose, I could still spring to action if needed. For now, it was best to keep my head down and at least appear to cooperate.
My heart pounded as a guard slid our breakfast across the floor, gun secure in his holster. I studied him from beneath my lowered gaze, trying to memorize as much as I could. His skin was dark, as was his hair, which was cropped short. A large scar marred the side of his face. He wasn't tall, but he was stocky, and tension coiled in his body like a predator ready to pounce.
I was escorted to the bathroom, a gun at my back, and the guard uttered a few crude comments beneath his breath. I shuddered, almost eager to be secured in the room once more.
When I returned, Carmen had already scarfed down her breakfast, and I found a cup of instant oatmeal waiting for me. The guard signaled to Carmen that it was her turn and left me alone with my food. Despite my initial lack of enthusiasm, the meal wasn’t half-bad, maybe because I was starving.
Carmen was gone longer than I expected, and I made my bed in her absence. There wasn't much to it—a fitted sheet, lumpy pillow, and thin blanket—but I took my time with the task, exploring the edges of the mattress for potential weapons. Even a pen would do. I tried not to get too discouraged when I came up empty-handed.
The door opened and Carmen returned with a blank expression, her posture rigid. I could tell something was wrong, but neither of us spoke until the guard shut and bolted the door once more.
She sank onto her mattress, her shoulders hunched, and muttered something I had trouble making out.
“What about the girl in the other room?”
“She . . . she, come se dice,” she said to herself as she considered the correct word before deciding on, “taken.”
“Taken where?”
She held up her hands, her eyes wide. “I don't know.”
“Has this happened before?” When she didn’t immediately respond, I switched to Spanish. I was impatient for answers, and I knew it would be easier to communicate.
Carmen told me that on the way to the restroom, she passed one of the other prisoners. Before the guards separated them, the woman whispered that her roommate had been taken. She was dragged from the room in the middle of the night and hadn’t been seen since.
We both fell silent, neither of us wishing to discuss the woman’s fate. From my Zenith training, I knew that human trafficking victims were often placed in domestic service, agriculture, or factory positions. And that’s if they were lucky; others would be forced into prostitution.
Reading about the plight of the victims was one thing. Experiencing it firsthand was another. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality I was now faced with, and despite all of my current uncertainty, I felt fortunate in comparison to the others. At least I had somewhere safe to return to. More than anything, I had people waiting for me. Not just people, a family.
I spent the rest of the morning pondering my fate and that of the other women. What would happen to them, to me, if I didn't get us out of here? How many other women had passed through before us? And if I didn't find a way to stop whoever was behind this, how many would be subjected to the same treatment after us?
Until I identified a means of escape, I intended to gather as much information as I could. One way or another, these monsters had to be stopped. And keeping busy was preferable to freaking out, as tempting as the idea was.
After lunch, I was permitted a trip to the bathroom. The guard with the scar had been replaced by yet another, conforming to Carmen’s recollection of three guards. There was Scarface, my favorite guard (the one I’d grappled with and had called me “bitch”), and now, this guy. He was younger than the others, eager, and maybe even a tad inexperienced, if the way he fumbled with the gun was any indication. Finally, a weak link I could potentially exploit.
When I stepped out of the bedroom, my attention was immediately drawn to a man wearing black dress pants and a fitted button-down shirt. His face was familiar, but I was certain I’d never seen him before. He stood at the end of the hall, speaking to my favorite guard in hushed Spanish but paused to appraise me. From his slicked-back hair to his expensive leather shoes, he seemed out of place, and I wondered what his role was.
Considering the posturing of the young guard, who took the opportunity to puff out his chest and lead me to the bathroom with undue ceremony, I imagined he was someone of relative importance. With the door ajar, I strained to listen for any clues, but the conversation was too muffled. When I re-emerged from the bathroom, the man was gone, but a feeling of unease remained.
The young guard returned me to the room with less fanfare, shoving me inside and bolting the door. I sank onto the bed and leaned against the wall, silently willing my headache to go away. The dull throbbing was driving me mad, and with no external clues as to the time of day, I found myself glancing at my watch every few minutes.
Feeling restless, I asked Carmen questions about her parents and her siblings, her life at home in Mexico, her favorite foods. Anything to pass the time.
When she asked about my own family, I hesitated. Should I tell her about my mother's murder? My childhood with a father who loved me but kept me hidden? Or should I tell her about the five men who adored me and would do anything to protect me? I smiled at the thought of Knox, Theo, Jackson, Chase, and Liam.
“Tienes un novio. ¿Sí?”
“Yes.” Five boyfriends to be precise, but I wasn't going to mention that.
“¿Cómo es él?”
What is he like? I had to laugh at her question. How could I possibly describe my five boyfriends as one man?
“He's . . . indescribable.”
“¿Increíble?”
I nodded, allowing her to believe that I'd said he, they, were incredible instead.
She folded her feet beneath her and leaned forward, reminding me of Jess anytime we had a sleepover. “Tell me,” she said with a hesitant smile, the first I'd seen from her since I'd arrived.
When she smiled, she was stunning. And, despite the squalid conditions, the less than ideal circumstances for our introduction, I could see us being friends. I only hoped she would have the opportunity to return to her former life, or perhaps a better one.
Too exhausted to explain my relationship with the guys, I launched into a description of Knox. I told her of our first date, the sweet things he did for me, our first kiss. Even so, it was difficult not to mention the others. Jackson, Liam, Theo, and Chase were just as important to me.
By the time the door slid open for dinner, I'd lost track of time and was surprised to discover it was almost seven. The realization hit me hard—I'd been here over twenty-four hours.
By now, the guys had to have found the Jeep, maybe even talked to Kenneth. Oh, god, my assignment. Not that it mattered at this point, but I'd completely flunked the course. And what about Kara? What did she think when I’d failed to call or show up for dinner?
I forced down my meal, not stopping to dwell on the burnt taste of the cheese, the dried-out noodles. Who burns frozen lasagna?
“Haley?”
I choked down another bite, chasing it with water. “Yeah?”
“Knox, he come for you?”
“Yes,” I answered with certainty. With every fiber of my being, I knew Knox would always come for me. All of the guys would. My biggest concern was whether they would find me before I was transferred to another location or separated from Carmen.
“Carmen,” I said, quickly switching to Spanish. This was important, and I needed to be certain she understood. I recited Knox's phone number, grateful he’d practically ordered me to memorize it long ago. Once she successfully repeated it several times, I asked if she would be able to remember it.
“Sí.” Her dark brown eyes met mine, filled with determination and hope.
Carmen believed in me. She was relying on me, as were the other wo
men, even if they didn’t know it yet. It strengthened my resolve to find a way out of here. I was capable, I was intelligent, and I was well-trained. My dad had prepared me for something like this my entire life, and my Zenith training had taken it to the next level. I could do this. I had to.
21
Recognition
Knox
I glanced at Stephen Jones from the corner of my eye, questioning Jax’s decision to pair us up. Wasn’t Liam—with his oozing charm and polished grooming—the obvious choice? Scraping a hand over my five-o’clock-shadow-turned-almost-beard, I figured even Theo would be a better option. He’d made sure to wear long sleeves to cover up his tats and had taken the time to shave and style his hair. I had not. My griffin tattoo was sneaking past the sleeve of my T-shirt, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether I’d remembered to wash my hair when I last showered.
Screw it. The last thing I needed to worry about was impressing my girlfriend’s father. Not that he knew she was my girlfriend. And that stung, if I was forced to admit it. He should know, understand, what she meant to me. To all of us. Instead, we were trying to hide it and failing miserably, if I had to wager a guess.
As though he could read my thoughts, Stephen’s gaze found mine and he scowled. “Pining over Haley isn’t going to make her magically appear, you know.”
What the hell? I was known for my inscrutability. There was no way he could read me that well.
“I pestered her about which of you she was dating the last time I saw her, and she avoided the question. Is there something I should know?” Eyes the same shade as Haley’s studied me, urging me to spill my guts. Strangely, I was tempted, but it wasn’t my secret to tell.
“Can’t imagine what,” I said blandly, before forcing my attention back to the monitors set up on the dining room table. My current assignment was to look for signs that Vincent DuBois was involved in Haley’s disappearance. I didn’t have time for distractions.
Stephen had been a considerable help with our DuBois, or Dickhead, as I’d come to call him, problem. When he’d shown up Friday afternoon, he informed us that he’d established fairly elaborate surveillance on the man and his operation in the last few months and had brought along the necessary equipment to access it. I wanted to know how he’d managed the impressive feat but not quite enough to ask. If he’d been anyone else, I would have insisted on hearing every detail.
Unfortunately, we hadn’t yet found anything to tie Dickhead to Haley. We hadn’t found anything, period. It was already Sunday afternoon, and we had no news, no promising leads, nothing. I was pissed. No, beyond pissed. I was a ticking time bomb and officially five minutes past caring if Stephen was in the blast zone when I went off.
Kara walked into the dining room with a hesitant smile, and I sighed in momentary relief. Maybe she needed Stephen’s help with something that would give me an hour of blissful solitude.
“Hello, Mr. Jones.” She held out a hand and offered, “I’m Kara, a close friend and co-worker of Haley’s.”
With an expression and tone I didn’t know he was capable of, Stephen took her hand and seemed to squeeze it encouragingly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Kara. Haley has mentioned you several times. I know she values your friendship.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. The most he’d offered any of the team was a brusque hello and glare. Not that I was surprised. He obviously blamed us for what happened, and I sure as hell blamed myself. After all my insistence to Haley, myself, and everyone around us that I’d always protect her, she’d slipped through my fingers.
There was no excuse. I should have done more. I should have prepared her better. I should have tagged her with a god damn chip.
“She’s the best,” Kara replied.
Stephen looked wistful but sad. “She is, isn’t she?”
“And Knox and Jackson, Theo, Chase, and Liam are all important to her and vice versa. They would do anything for her. I know they’re going to find her and bring her home safe.”
I wanted to tell her not to bother—he had no interest in hearing good things about us—but my attention was diverted to the monitor on my far right. It displayed both entrances to Dickhead’s cleaning business in San Jose. Two men had appeared on the screen showing the back door, dressed all in black. They sauntered up to the door like they owned the place, which meant they were likely two of Dickhead’s henchmen.
I froze, holding my breath for any sign of Haley. The idea was absurd, but I didn’t have anything else right then. Any hope that she was with them quickly vanished when they started to enter the building, clearly alone.
Just as I was about to look away, the taller of the two men paused with his face turned toward the camera to finish one last puff on his cigarette before snuffing it out with his boot. I squinted at the screen as a sense of familiarity washed over me. Did I know him from somewhere?
I zoomed in on a still shot of his face, and recognition slammed into me like a tidal wave. I knew him. I knew him! Finally, something we could use.
“Kara,” I yelled, even though she was standing mere feet away, “tell Chase to run the photo I’m sending him for a match with a former Zenith employee. I don’t remember his name, but he worked in the D.C. office.” When she just stood there, I said, “Now! And wake Jax up!”
Stephen, who was watching me with confusion, walked to my side. “What do you have?”
Pointing at the men on the screen, I replayed the relevant seconds on the video. “Have you ever seen either of these men?”
“Yes,” he answered immediately. “The stocky guy is a bouncer at Rendezvous. I’ve seen the taller one at several of Dickhead’s businesses, but he always struck me as fresh meat. Doesn’t seem to have a very solid role in the organization.”
I ignored my mild amusement caused by Stephen adopting my use of “Dickhead” and let the video play out. The men disappeared into the building, and we lost our view of them.
“What’s going on?” Jax ran into the room, his curly hair a tangled mess. I’d feel bad for waking him if this wasn’t so damn important.
I zoomed in on the tall man again. “Do you recognize this guy?”
He studied the photo and then studied it some more. “Should I?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent certain he used to work in the D.C. office. I met him when I was there for surveillance training about eighteen months ago.”
Jax shook his head. “He doesn’t look familiar, but I didn’t attend that training with you. Chase?”
“He’s already working on it.”
“Which location is this?”
“The cleaning business in San Jose.”
“Okay, I want you on this, now. Break as many speeding laws as you want, just get there as soon as possible. And take Theo with you.”
I jumped to my feet and shoved my phone in my pocket, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. Even if this was a dead end, at least I was finally doing something.
“Theodore,” I shouted down the hall leading to the office before sprinting upstairs to the guest room I’d been using. I grabbed my backpack and quickly retrieved two handguns in holsters from the safe in the closet.
Theo’s steps echoed on the wood floors as he came bounding after me. Pausing in the doorway, a flash of hope then dread crossed his face. “Haley?”
“No, but we have a lead,” I said, handing him one of the guns then strapping on my own. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Once we were in Patrick’s black Mercedes SUV—fast yet relatively nondescript—I filled Theo in before calling Jax. “What do you have for me?”
“You were right. His name is Grant Perrin, and he worked in the D.C. office for six years before quitting eight months ago. At first glance, his personnel file and record are both clean, but his work history is non-existent since leaving Zenith.”
Bingo.
I parked the SUV down the street from the cleaners, giving us a clear view of the door.
“I want you to wait for him to leave and follo
w him. Do not engage until you can catch him alone in a secure location,” Jax said.
“We can go in there and—”
“No,” Jax interrupted. “Not happening. We still have no idea whether Haley was taken by these guys, and there’s at least one other of DuBois’s men in there. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Fine.” I wanted to object, but I already knew this was an argument I wouldn’t win. More waiting, damn it. “We’ll check in when we have movement.”
Thirty minutes passed in tense silence before Theo finally spoke. His voice was quiet, letting me know right away that he was in a pensive mood. “Do you think there’s any way she left by choice?”
“You’re still hung up on that?”
“Do you blame me?”
For whatever reason, I’d never developed issues with abandonment the way my brother had. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t sensitive to his feelings. I didn’t blame him for his concerns, but I also didn’t intend to let this opportunity to set him straight pass us by.
“I don’t believe for one second that she left us.” I wasn’t just saying that, either. From the moment we found out Haley was missing, I’d known something terrible must have happened to her. As upset as she’d been since Vanessa got into her head, she wouldn’t leave again by choice. She was as intrinsically intertwined with the five of us as we were with her and each other. There was no leaving. We knew it, and she knew it.
“And, deep down, I don’t think you believe it either.”
He crossed his arms and his lower lip stuck out like a petulant child. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“She’s said she loves you, right?” I wasn’t certain, but I’d noticed a pretty recent change in their dynamic, so I was acting on my hunch.
He turned to me in shock. “She told you?”
“No, it was a guess. This isn’t like last time, Theo. Haley wouldn’t tell you she loves you then disappear again. She just wouldn’t.”