Chapter 4 Aiden
AIDEN
“Jesus.” I push a hand through my hair. “This has to be a joke.”
Andi gives me a sharp look. “Care to rephrase that?”
Across the table, Gavin and Jake smirk.
I give them a dirty look. They were part of the team when Andi was a new recruit in our unit. Maybe our director wouldn’t terrify me as much if I’d seen her naked, too.
But then, Andi rose through the ranks at the CIA and is now in charge of the very men in charge of her training. Just that makes her intimidating, if you ask me.
I take a breath. “Apologies, Director. I’m just not certain how this case landed with our unit.”
I’m not a fucking babysitter. The last thing I need is to help some traumatized woman recover from whatever trafficking organization someone decided to take down.
Can’t some social worker take care of this?
Andi tilts her head. “You are part of a covert ops unit, Agent. We take on whatever requires our services.”
She shifts her gaze away from me, and her message is clear: conversation over.
“Is there any information on the subjects?” Alex asks. Freaking brown-noser.
Andi shakes her head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much. We don’t even know which women we will receive, their backgrounds, or what their experience with the organization has been.”
“How many?” Gavin asks.
“Two.” Andi pushes a stack of identical file folders across the table. “This is what we know about the organization, as well as the first stages of the operation.”
I take one of the folders. It’s thin, which means there’s not much to go on.
Andi pushes her chair back from the table and stands. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you have any questions.” Her heels click against the tile floor as she exits the room.
When the door shuts behind her, I look at the other men. “How do you want to do this? One team, or split into twos?”
Gavin shrugs. “I’ll look them both over, as the medic, but beyond that, maybe we see what they need. Who they respond to. That might dictate how we run things.”
“Sounds good.” Jake stands and picks up his folder. “I’ll see you then.”
I roll my eyes. Hell, I’d be easygoing if I had the love of my life waiting for me at home, like Gavin and Jake do.
Both of their women started as subjects of one of our operations. Tessa, Jake’s fiancée, was a recruit, like Andi. Gavin, on the other hand, started as a bodyguard for the woman who is now his wife.
I’m not here for a wife or a fiancée or even a fucking girlfriend. I’m here to do my job, no matter who the subject is.
NOW
If I had my way, we would have arrested the assholes who dropped off the women, but they’re probably just low-level delivery men.
Still, anger boils in my stomach as they drive away.
Gavin elbows me, reminding me that we have a job to do.
I turn to the row of crates. Fucking dog crates.
Two of them with women huddled inside.
Gavin points to one of them as he looks from me to Alex, then heads toward the other.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft. “You’re safe now. Come on out.”
The girl is still crying, but she does and falls into Gavin’s embrace. He holds her for a minute, then leads her away.
I focus on our subject. Her expression is neutral, her gaze fixed on the floor, although she steals glances at us when she thinks we’re not looking.
Unlike the other woman, she’s not crying. She didn’t fight.
I wonder just how broken she is.
I gesture with my head to Alex, and the two of us approach her crate. I unlatch the door and swing it wide.
Alex crouches down. “You’re safe now. You can come out.”
The woman studies us with wide, terrified eyes, pressing her body into the back of the crate as far as it can go.
“What’s your name, honey?” Alex asks, holding out a hand.
The woman just shakes her head.
“It’s okay, honey,” he says, his voice still soft. “You can come out. We’re going to help you.”
The woman, if anything, looks more terrified.
I run a hand over my jaw, thinking. This woman obeyed without question when the assholes who dropped her off told her to go to the crate. She crawled in without a fight, unlike the other one. She doesn’t seem to trust kindness.
Fortunately, I’m not a nice guy.
I nudge Alex, who stands, then clear my throat and fix the woman with a glare. “What do they call you, girl?”
She blinks, finally focusing on me. “One- one twenty-seven.”
127. It’s what the driver said, when he instructed her to go to the crate. Apparently, this woman has been captive long enough to respond to the dehumanizing name.
I push down my disgust, forcing myself to focus on what she needs. “127. Come here and kneel.” I point at the ground in front of me.
This time, she moves, crawling gingerly out of the crate to kneel at my feet.
She’s been trained. That much is clear.
Her posture is ramrod straight. Arms folded behind her back. Gaze cast down.
“What are you here for, 127?” I ask in the same rough tone.
Her reply is immediate and practiced. “I’m here to serve you, Master.”
She’s not just trained. She’s broken.
Shit.