Chapter 9
TINLEY
We floated up into the air. Gravity pushed me forward. I closed my eyes.
“Tinley.”
My eyes popped open.
“It’s going to take time.” He nodded. “And they have a lot to go on until you feel you are ready to talk about it.”
“How do you know so much about all of this?” The plane leveled off and turned to the left. “Why do you care about this so much?”
He leaned forward.
“A few years ago, Kyler and I were scoping out a hotel we wanted to buy in Florida.” He rubbed his hands together.
“We spent a few nights at the hotel. Really getting a feel for it. And three nights in a row, we went down to the bar in the lobby and noticed in a corner, kind of cut off from the main area, women were brought into the bar from a back hallway by the same two men every hour. They all looked young and lost. Confused. I just knew there was something wrong. I caught one of the girl’s eyes and although she didn’t say anything, didn’t move her lips, her eyes were screaming at me to help. ”
“Did you help?”
“Well, I tried. I mean, I didn’t walk up in there and demand to know what was going on, but we spoke to the hotel security.
They thought we were asking to set up something with a girl.
Kind of clued me in that everyone knew what was going on, but everyone looked the other way.
” He rubbed his face. “That girl’s eyes still haunt me. ”
He leaned back. The air grew heavy. I waited for him to continue.
“We had a friend in DC who put us in touch with someone at the FBI in Orlando. It’s the first time we met Agent Stanley. And we’ve been working with him ever since.”
The bell rang through the intercom and the flight attendant appeared a few minutes later.
“Here’s your menu for the flight.” She handed one to me first and then to Josh. “Can I get you a drink while you decide?”
Josh grinned at me.
“I’ll just have some orange juice and water.” I bit my lip to keep from giggling.
“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks.”
I scanned the menu. They had four choices for entrees. Steak and fish and even a kid’s menu of chicken tenders and mac and cheese. My mouth watered and my stomach growled.
The flight attendant brought our drinks.
“What can I get you?” She tapped her hand on the back of Josh’s chair.
“I’m not that hungry.” I tried to play it off. “Can I have the tenders and mac and cheese from the kid’s menu?”
I peaked at Josh, he smirked but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll have the steak, medium, and the loaded mashed potatoes.” Josh handed our menus back to her.
She bobbed her head and disappeared.
“Do you know what happened to the girl?”
The waitress reappeared. She inserted a table between our seats and set it for dinner. She came back a few minutes later with a cheeseboard and some little napkins. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
“Thank you.” Josh’s patience was running thin. When he was sure she wasn’t about to return, he answered me.
“No. They did end up busting that group, though, and found out they had been running a brothel in the hotel for years. Once we learned more about how they did it, Agent Stanley asked us to help uncover other possible operations like the one in Florida.”
“I bet you’ve helped so many women.” I plucked a piece of cheese off the plate.
“I saw so many girls come and go without knowing what ever happened to them. When I was first taken, I would try to make friends with someone, anyone. We were all going through the same thing. But most of the girls I met didn’t speak English.
They were as scared as I was, and they gave up hope so fast.”
“That’s why you’re brave.” He grabbed a cracker from the board and popped it in his mouth.
“Oh, no. I gave up hope, too. Lots of times.” My heart thumped loudly in my chest. “But I was still alive, so that was something.”
I looked up at Josh. His expression softened. I didn’t see pity in his eyes. He didn’t know what exactly happened to me. If he knew, he might think differently. It was another reason why I was hesitant to tell him, but he would understand more than most.
We sat in silence for a while, picking through the cheeseboard. Our dinner was served shortly after.
I picked up a piece of chicken. “Ouch.” I dropped it and blew on my fingers.
“Careful.” He cut into his steak, blew on it, and took a bite.
I cut a piece of chicken and dipped it in honey mustard sauce. I brought it to my lips with a fork and blew on it. I took a bite and groaned.
Josh stopped mid-bite and glared at me.
I dug into the mac and cheese next. It had a serious cheese pull. Just the way I liked it. I blew on it and took a bite. “Oh my God.” I pointed. “This is so good.”
“Yeah, well, take it easy. I’m sure your stomach is still a little sensitive.” He watched me take another bite of each. When I looked up, he turned his attention back to his food.
I had a lot of experience in knowing what men wanted.
The subtle clues were not so subtle, but the involuntary clues were more telling.
The darkening of the eyes or the tensing of muscles in the neck told me the truth.
When it came to lust or desire, the way your body changed when someone wanted you and when you wanted them was like a sixth sense to me.
He held himself back from expressing his attraction to me verbally. It confused me, too. After what I’ve been through, how could I want him, too? Or any man.
Josh wasn’t any man.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked between bits.
I knew the answer. If he had a little, he would be totally devoted to her. In the last forty-eight hours, I hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except for his bosses and his assistant.
“No.” He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I guess I haven’t found the right girl.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
My eyes scrunched up.
He chuckled.
“I know. It seems strange. I run a billion-dollar company and have hundreds of employees, can coordinate a thousand different tasks and never drop the ball on any one of them.” He smirked.
“But every single one of my past relationships has ended because it was the one thing in my life I found expendable.” He frowned, then blinked his eyes and looked away.
“Maybe you haven’t met the right one you consider making a priority.” I stuffed the last of my mac and cheese in my mouth and leaned back, rubbing my stomach.
“Maybe.” He grinned and finished the last of his meal before downing his scotch. “Why don’t you lie down and try to get some sleep. When you wake up, you’ll be back home.”
Home.
The word sounded foreign.
I stood and went to the bathroom at the back of the plane.
I typically avoided mirrors, but I stared at my reflection for a while.
I wrapped the braid into a messy bun on my head.
It made me look like a kid. Along with the baggy clothes.
My eyes were a little less sunken. The good meals were already working wonders.
I picked up one of the bottles lining the sink.
Hydrating cleanser. I washed my face and added some moisturizer.
There were six other bottles I wasn’t sure what they did. Maybe I’d try them when I woke up.
The dishes had been cleared, and the couch had been covered with a pillow and blanket.
Josh had moved into the recliner opposite the couch.
I took a seat and toed off my shoes.
“Are you going to watch me sleep?” I giggled and slid my legs under the blankets.
“No, just want to make sure you don’t need anything.” He stood up and kneeled next to me. He held back from tucking me in. Settled on patting my leg instead.
“I’ll be right over there getting some work done if you need anything.” He pointed.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?”
He shrugged and opened his mouth but closed it.
I reached out and touched his hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He was chagrined after asking the question like it wasn’t obvious. He patted my hand on top of his. “You’re welcome.”
Again, he held back from speaking his mind. Like he wanted to go all Daddy Dom mode on me but was afraid of how I would react.
To be honest, it wouldn’t work on me. That was what I told myself.
While I hadn’t shared specifics, he must have an idea of what I’d been through.
Being taken against my will, having to grieve while being raped, beaten, and humiliated.
The stuff I had been through tainted me.
I had nothing left to give. Who would ever want me when they found out the truth?
Strangely, that rationale offered comfort.
The last millisecond of hope I had was destroyed when I watched another man die in front of me.
Constantine was an Italian. In his early forties, attractive.
He picked me out of twenty other girls. He took me to a village in a small valley.
It seemed like we were the only two people in the world.
He gave me a bath and dressed me in the softest fuzzy onesie.
He fed me homemade pasta with marinara sauce and didn’t get mad when the sauce dripped on my clothes.
He just changed me into another one after dinner.
He sat me on the floor with the television turned to cartoons.
It was in another language I didn’t recognize.
He ran his hand through my hair and braided it for me.
Goose bumps popped up on my skin. He always had his hands on me but not in a sexual way.
At night, he took me into a separate room made up for a little girl with white furniture and pink bedding with ruffles everywhere.
A soft white kitten stuffie with a pink nose sat on the pillows, waiting for me.
He tucked me in and read me a story. It was in Italian, but his voice did the characters, and I almost cracked a smile at his silliness.
He kissed me on the forehead and turned on a night-light and left the room.
The lock clicked in place. I didn’t have to check it.
All night I stayed in bed, on my back, willing my eyes to stay open.
I knew it was all too good to be true, but the next day was more of the same.
He bathed me, clothed me, fed me. We went out back and strolled around the property grounds.
The beautiful mountains covered in deep greenery contrasted with the clear blue sky.
He put me down for a nap in the afternoon.
At night, he woke me up while whispering in Italian.
He had fixed me another pasta dish. That night, he put me in bed again.
It went on like this for five days.
The sixth day was another story.
That morning, I woke up to shouting in English. The door flew open and three of the guys who had held me captive for the longest filed into the room.
One of them dragged the Italian in. His face was bloody and bruised. He held one hand to his side. His right foot seemed to be pointing in the wrong direction. They picked him up and threw him in the plush white chair in the corner. His blood stained the fur.
They ripped my onesie off. My eyes trailed to the cat stuffie as one of the guys ripped it in half and threw it to the ground.
They all took turns to make me hurt. I stared into the Italian’s eyes and thought I saw him crying.
It could have been from the pain he was in, but I liked to think it was for me a little.
That was the last moment of hope, and it broke me even further, but it also spurred on my need to escape. Because when I tried to escape, I knew they would kill me, and I welcomed it. Even if I did survive, what kind of life would it be?