Dale shook his head. “Nothing useful.” He was sitting on Quella’s bed, thumbing through some notebooks.
“Any contact info for Quella?”
“People don’t write that stuff down anymore. It’s all in our phones.”
I softly swore and ran a hand through my hair. “This is so incredibly frustrating.”
“Yeah, I know.” Nicole threw the pages onto Caity’s desk and kept rifling around.
“What do we know so far?”
“Well...” Dale mussed his curls. “Caity is somewhere, I’m assuming in this country, with her roommate Quella Mendez.”
“Mendez!” I snatched out my phone, ready to call Sullivan and tell him, but he beat me to it. The phone started ringing in my hand.
My body jolted. I pressed the button and lifted it to my ear. “Have you got anything?”
“Quella’s last name is Mendez.”
“Yeah, I know. I was about to call and tell you.”
Sullivan sighed. “Listen, kid, can I come and see you?”
Dread simmered in my belly, low and hot. I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “Yeah, of course. I’m at UCLA right now. Where are you?”
“Not far. I can meet you there.”
“Okay, we’ll wait outside Caity’s dorm. She’s in Rieber Vista.”
“Got it. See you in fifteen.”
*****
We stayed up in the room for another ten minutes, but I was useless. My mind was cluttered. Sullivan’s soft sigh and ominous tone kept surging through my head. I felt seasick as we walked outside. The day was overcast, which seemed to fit my mood perfectly.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and waited on the curb, kicking at stones while Nicole and Dale stood anxiously beside me, their fingers threaded together. I scowled, looking away from their interlocked hands.
A navy blue car appeared down the road and I stiffened. Sullivan drove past and gave me a quick nod before parking down the road. I ran to be there when he got out of the car. He scanned the area and pointed to a grassy space with some picnic tables off to the left.
We all followed him in silence, sliding our butts onto the cold plank of wood.
Sullivan flicked back his jacket and perched his butt on the table.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I ground my teeth together. “Just get it over with quickly.”
Nicole squeezed my forearm, giving me a sympathetic smile.
Sullivan licked his lower lip and crossed his arms.
“It turns out Quella’s father is Diego Mendez. He has ties to a Mexican cartel and the Feds have been trying to bust him for drug smuggling, but never managed to pin anything on him.”
A heavy breath shot through my nostrils and I gripped my hands together, squeezing hard.
“Is that where Caity is?”
Sullivan shrugged at Dale’s question. “I wish I could say yes, because he’s just been arrested by the FBI.”
“For what? The drug thing?” I pressed my elbows onto the table, leaning towards him.
He looked down at me, his forehead wrinkling. He looked like telling me would actually hurt.
“Just say it,” I snapped.
With a slow swallow, he finally muttered, “Human trafficking.”
“What!” Nicole shot out of her seat.
“Those missing girls.” Sullivan scratched his head. “The ones who’ve been on the news lately? Turns out it wasn’t a serial killer.” He grimaced. “They were being sold. It’s going to hit the six o’clock news tonight.”
The air in my lungs felt like dust. I closed my eyes, trying to wrap my brain around what he was saying.
“And Caity was part of this operation?”
“Kaplan’s denying it, but I think she used Caity to get to Quella, to get Mendez.”
“Of course she did!” Nicole slapped the table. “It’s so freaking obviously the truth!”
Sullivan’s voice was calm in contrast to Nicole’s fire. “Like I said, they’re not giving out much info at this stage. There’s no way they’ll let me near Quella.”
“You have to. You have to make her talk to you. Caity was with her. We all know that. Kaplan’s lying!”
“Exactly,” Sullivan cut her off. “She’s lying and she wouldn’t do that if something wasn’t wrong.”
The dread in my stomach grew to a hot boil. Bile surged up my throat, threatening to spill over. I swallowed, pressing my fingers into my temples and pushing hard.
“So, um, what’s your guess then?”
Dale’s question made Sullivan jerk off the table and pace away from us. Punching his fist into his hand, he stalked back to the table.
“You’re not going to like my guess, but there are a few things it could be.”
We all held our breath and looked up at him.
“One, Caity is fine and Kaplan can’t tell me because she wants the girl to slip back into life as normal and be kept out of the media frenzy.”
“We all know that doesn’t feel right,” Nicole whispered. “What’s two?”
Sullivan pressed his lips together. “She was injured during the raid.”
“If you think she’s dead, just say it!” I banged the table.
His expression was filled with pity as he studied me, his voice sounded broken and shallow, “I’d rather she was than have my third option be right.”
There was a dead pause as we drank in his ominous expression.
“Aw, shit, human trafficking,” Dale choked out the words.
“What?” I couldn’t absorb it. “What are you saying? She’s been sold?”
No one could answer my question. I looked at each face. We sat and stood around that table like a bunch of sick, green ghosts. Breaths punched out of me. I clenched my teeth, trying to control them.
Dale’s hand landed on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “Kaplan will make Mendez talk. She has to. There’s no way she’d bring Caity in on this and just cut her loose, right?” Dale glanced to Sullivan, silently pleading for backup.
Sullivan’s mute response was deafening and told us everything we didn’t want to hear.
If Caity had been sold, she was on her own.
And we had no idea where to find her.
Waves of sick agony coursed through me as my imagination dove into an evil pit. All I could hear was Caity screaming. All I could see were her tears. Lecherous men with evil, lust-filled eyes swarmed around her, grabbing at her, pulling at her clothes.
She called out to me, her hand stretching through the fray, begging me to take it and pull her free, but I couldn’t reach her.
I closed my eyes and buried my head in my hands.
I couldn’t reach her.
Chapter 11
Caitlyn
I fell asleep on the couch, but it didn’t last long. I was jerked awake by a sickening nightmare. Eric was calling my name, searching through a black and red pit, looking for me. I couldn’t see him but screamed his name, trying to break free of Bruno’s grasp. Bruno kept yanking at me, pulling me towards a dark room and that’s when I saw Eric. He was heartbroken, his eyes sad and resigned as he turned his back on me and walked out the door.
“Eric!” My guttural scream woke me and I lurched on the couch, nearly falling off. Sal was still standing watch over me. His lips were straight and unflinching, but I could see concern behind his mask. I rubbed at my sore neck and winced, rolling out my shoulders and checking the clock on the wall.
It was nearly lunchtime. My stomach grumbled in agreement and Sal snapped his fingers, pointing at the door behind me. The waitress shuffled in with a tray of food, which she placed on the dining room table. I rose from the couch on shaky limbs and headed to the chair she’d pulled out for me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“De nada.” Her reply was soft and sweet, but she left the room before I could read her.
Her gentle manner told me enough.
I studied the platter in front of me, a mixture of fruits, cheese, crackers a
nd cold meat. I felt like I could devour the lot, but used my self-control and put a small portion on my plate. I had no idea what the rest of the day held and it made me nervous.
Eating with a stomach full of bumblebees was hard work. I picked and nibbled until half my plate was empty then gave up.
The ticking clock on the wall grew louder with each passing minute and I couldn’t help wondering if this was to be my life. Boredom spiked with intense moments of blinding terror. Hardly something to strive for.
The door behind me clicked open and I spun, my body tensing immediately.
It took a moment for my shoulders to relax, even though the only thing facing me was a petite brunette with mocha skin and large brown eyes. She looked to be the same age as me, but her smile was gentle and behind her mask, I saw an aged maturity that seemed out of place on a face so young.
“Hello.” Her smile was small and calm.
“Hi.” My back began to loosen.
“I am Monique. Mr. Gomez sent me here to get you ready for your evening.”
“My evening?”
“Yes, he plans to take you to an important poker game and wants you dazzling.”
“Dazzling.” A raised eyebrow accompanied my dry response.
Monique grinned, her dimples showing clearly as she suppressed her laughter.
“Please, follow me.”
I glanced at Sal, who flicked his head in Monique’s direction. With a sigh, I clomped after her. Why it would take all afternoon to get ready for an evening out was beyond me, but I knew I couldn’t question anything.
Monique took me to the elevator with Sal trailing quietly behind us. We all descended to the twentieth floor. The gold doors dinged open and I found myself in a fancy day spa. The wooden floors were dark walnut to match the interior doors. The walls were papered with a dark green leaf pattern and with the ambient music and water bubbling through the floor canals, I felt like I’d stepped into an ancient Japanese garden.
“I will wait here.” Sal stood by the elevator doors and assumed his statue-like position.
A little in awe, I followed Monique over the small bridge and into a room with a sliding door.
“Please, take off your clothes and lie down.” She held out a large towel and turned her back so I could get undressed. Wrapping the towel around myself, I stepped up onto the cushioned table and lay face down, snuggling my head into the round opening for my face.
“This afternoon, Santiago would like you to have a full spa treatment.”
“How long will it take?”
“All afternoon.” I could hear the smile in Monique’s voice as she fluffed around at the edge of the room. Dimming the lights, she turned up the music by one notch and approached the table, unfastening my towel and laying a soft hand on my back. “Please, try to relax. I know it is difficult, but try to think of this afternoon as a sweet oasis in the middle of your storm.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath, feeling understood for the first time since I got here. Monique’s gentle, yet firm hands kneaded my muscles, starting with my neck and shoulders and slowly working their way down my body. The calm music and her quiet touch eventually seeped into my bones and the rest of the afternoon became just that: an idyllic utopia that didn’t get disrupted until I was sitting in a large makeup chair while Monique did my hair.
“How long have you been here?”
Monique kept her eyes away from the mirror, pulling out the last of the curlers. My ringlets were large and I had no idea what she planned to do with them. I’d had her mask off since I got out of my bath and she’d started painting my nails. That had been an hour ago and so far she hadn’t shown me anything new, but my question caused her to flinch.
“You aren’t employed by Santiago, are you?”
The muscles in her neck pinged tight.
“He owns you, doesn’t he?”
She sniffed sharply before meeting my gaze in the mirror. “He is good to me.”
“But how can you stand it?”
Her eyes dropped again and she went back to fiddling with my hair, twirling it around and pinning it up like an expert.
“Santiago was not my original owner. I used to belong to an evil man.” Her face crested with sorrow and disgust. “He used to hire me out for other men’s pleasure.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.
“Please do not cry. I have already put your foundation on. Santiago wants you to look perfect.”
I sniffed pulling myself together. “Sorry.”
She smiled, touched by my emotion.
“I came here when I was sixteen. Lucian had hired me out to one of Santiago’s men. He liked to play rough.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t contain my cries of pain and Santiago walked in.”
It was hard not to frown. “He rescued you?”
“I will never know why.” She shrugged. “But he took one look at my face and pulled his guard off me, throwing him out of the room. At first I thought he wanted me for himself, but he’s never touched me.”
“Did he buy you off this Lucian guy?”
Why did that name sound familiar?
She nodded. “That night, and he must have paid well, because Lucian Marchant does not give up his things without a fight.”
Lucian Marchant.
I knew that name.
“Santiago put me in the spa area and trained me. I now look after his girlfriends for him.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I snapped.
Monique giggled, pushing another pin into my hair. “I know. You are too young and...”
“Flat-chested,” I finished for her.
Her dimples appeared. “I’m not sure why he’s keeping you, but you should be grateful. There are far worse things that could happen.”
“I know.” My voice sounded dead. I thought of Bruno and couldn’t stop my spine from twitching.
Monique placed her hand on my bare shoulder.
“Do as he wants and you will have nothing to fear.”
Her gaze was pleading with me, desperate to make me understand.
I nodded.
Satisfied, she finished off my hair and stood back with a pleased smile. I turned from side to side and grinned, too. She was pleased with her efforts and so she should have been; I’d never looked so pretty.
The black dress I was wearing looked amazing on me. Yes, it was ridiculously revealing. The V-shaped front practically came down to my naval, but it pushed my non-existent boobs up, giving me the first cleavage I’d ever had. Below that, the fabric came around my waist in a tight band before draping free beneath. When Monique was done with my makeup, I’d no doubt look like I belonged on the red carpet. The idea was kind of thrilling, but then the circumstances surrounding it hit home and I was plunged back to feeling like a chattel...which was exactly how Santiago saw me.
Clearing my throat, I shifted in my seat while Monique got her makeup ready.
“So, who is Lucian Marchant?” It was more a question to distract myself than anything, but I regretted it the second I asked.
Monique’s unmasked face went a translucent white color and her hands started shaking.
“He owns a night club here called Impulse. It’s the place to go, but it is just a cover.”
“A cover for what?”
Monique sniffed out a dark laugh. “His supply and demand business.”
I frowned, tipping my head in confusion.
“He can get you whatever you want: a flashy sports car, illegal drugs, a twelve-year-old girl,” she finished in a whisper.
“How did he take you?”
“Close your eyes.”
I did as I was instructed, hating my lack of sight as she applied my eye makeup.
“He snatched me off the street. I was homeless anyway, so I thought it was a good thing. I’d only been with him for two nights when he hired me out to a fat man with gray hair and dark blue eyes.”
I felt sick.
“He
didn’t say one word to me, just took me into a room and...” She stopped and my eyes fluttered open. The terrified kid look on her face was heartbreaking. It obviously didn’t take much for her to relive it. “I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t.” She swallowed. “So then...you hope for death.” Her lips quivered as if fighting her words. “It never comes, so you...you learn to accept it.”
My eyes glassed over before I could stop them.
I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t ever want to be at that point.
I wanted to fight until my last day on this earth, but I couldn’t deny the sinking truth.
Santiago may not have thrown me to Bruno yet, but when he did I knew I’d want to die.
All I could pray for was that Kaplan...or Eric...would find me before it was too late. I’d stay alive for as long as I could and I would do everything in my power not to make a mistake.
Chapter 12
Eric
I could tell I was in a state of shock by the numb way my body moved. Sullivan left after his bombshell with promises of making more calls, but there was a sad sense of hopelessness as he departed. The minute he walked away, Nicole ruptured into an unexpected display of tears. Dale pulled her onto his lap and held her tight, murmuring into her ear and making me more and more jealous. I knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it.
For the first time ever, I had to question whether Caity would ever sit on my knee again.
The idea demolished me. I stalked back to my jeep and headed home. Nicole and Dale caught up to me, pulling in beside my car as I slammed out of it.
They were wise enough not to say anything. I stomped up the stairs and struggled to unlock the door.
“Do you want me to—”
“No,” I barked. “I got it.”
I swung the door open and marched into the living room, stopping short as I came face to face with my father.
His look was stony and I didn’t need Caity’s eyesight to see the anger coursing over his expression.
“Don’t you ever do that to your mother again.”
I glared at his reprimand. Like he had the right to point at me and talk that way.
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