BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance (20 page)

M
Y DOOR SQUEAKED
. HAD I missed the bell? I was crashing down so hard that the only rings I’d heard were in my mind. Jose would beat me if I missed line up and then he wouldn’t give me any more dope tomorrow. It was still working hours, and I wouldn’t have a break until well past midnight.

I glanced up from my bed, thinking it was one of the younger girls or maybe even Jose.

But it wasn’t Jose. Or another girl. Or another client.

It was that man.

The bearded man from the other night stood at the door: chest erect, shoulders back, confident, strong, and sexy.

Was he here for another round?

Before I could say a word, he shut the door and put his hand over my mouth. His deep blue eyes darted around the walls, probably scanning to see if there was a camera. He wrinkled his face when his glare hovered over the needles in the trashcan. The stench of my dope wafted through my drug den.

My chin dropped. I’m sure he saw me as nothing more than a heroin-addicted whore. I cowered, embarrassed about who I had become.

He turned his attention back to me. Without saying a word, he knelt beside me and grabbed my ankle, tracing his fingers over my tattoo.

He’d noticed. And my parents had actually once said to me I’d regret getting that tattoo one day. Little had they known this American surfboard might possibly save my life.

He sat on the bed and spoke in a low tone. “Annie, my name is Patrick Walsh—I’m a Navy SEAL. Sorry for running out of here the other night.”

Holy fuck! I was right. He was a SEAL. He’d come back to rescue me.

I gasped. Was I still high? Was this a dream?

My body trembled. I wanted to scream, to cry, to kiss him, but I remained frozen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

But he did believe me. He’d come back; no one had ever come back for me. Over the years, a few tourists gave me knowing glances, as if they might have recognized me. One fat American businessman spent so much time staring at my tattoo, I’d been convinced he was going to report seeing me, but that had been over two years ago. This other American, who I’d thought was former military, acted so strange I’d been convinced he’d been sent to save me. But I’d never had the courage to utter my name to any client until the other night.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what happened.” He placed his strong hand on my knee, trying to comfort me.

In an alternate reality, I’d be so wet right now. Fucking a fine-ass Navy SEAL had once been my fantasy. Back in San Diego, I would’ve dropped my panties so fast for this man, begged for him to dominate me, screw me senseless.

These days, being touched revolted me, but his hand was different. Rough and blistered, yet firm and calming.

My lips parted and despite his warm skin, chills radiated through my body. For years, my hope had died. No fairytale ending was in store for me.

I tried to speak but I had lost my voice. Before I could tell him my sob story, tears stained my cheeks. I didn’t want to come down from this high, and for once I wasn’t talking about heroin, I was talking about the high of hope.

Could this man be my hero? The one who could finally break me free and give me back the life that was stolen from me?

The only thing I could imagine worse than the hell I had endured was to think, even for a second, that I had a chance of getting my life back. A chance to be whole again. And having nothing come of it. I wanted to enjoy this moment, this fantasy. Even if it only lasted one night.

O
NE LOOK BACK
INTO HER hazel eyes and my doubts melted away. After five years, extensive manhunts, and expensive private investigators, I was the one who stumbled upon the long lost Annie Hamilton.

This time, she wasn’t wearing sexy lingerie, probably because she hadn’t been called out to the line. She was clad in a stained white tee shirt and pink cotton panties.

I debated apologizing for paying her to give me a blowjob. As much as I felt like a jackass for hiring a captive sex slave, deep down I didn’t regret it. Probably from growing up listening to all of my mom’s new age bullshit, but I believed everything happened for a reason. I’d found her. That was all that mattered.

Annie sobbed quietly. I could handle that. Being raised by a single mom, I’d comforted her so many times growing up, it was as if I were the parent. Every time she had her heart broken, she lost a job, or she didn’t have enough money for Christmas presents, I was the one who reassured her everything would be okay.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m going to take care of you.” I embraced her, her tiny frame almost disappearing in my strong arms. She buried her head into my chest. I would do anything to protect her—she’d been through hell and back and if she needed me to hold her, wipe away her tears, and tell her everything was okay, I would do that. I wanted to comfort her as much as I could. “You can relax. I’m not going to have sex with you, or make you touch me—that’s not why I’m here.” I had a thousand questions to ask her, but I didn’t know how to start. She didn’t release me, and just softly sobbed in my arms. When was the last time someone just held her and told her it was okay? The seconds turned into minutes and I didn’t have the heart to let her go. How was I going to walk out of this room in two hours and leave her behind?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she released me. I brushed back the hair on her face and handed her the paper bag. “I picked you up some things, clothes and stuff.”

Mascara ran down her face. She opened the bag and took out a sundress, fresh panties and a bra, and some vanilla-scented lotion. I kept the necklace in my pocket.

Her tongue poked in her cheek and she swallowed.

“You can put the dress on if you want.”

She nodded, stood up, and turned away from me as she undressed. Her sudden shyness surprised me, as less than twenty-four hours ago she had my dick in her mouth. I forced myself to not stare at her, and focused my glare on my feet and not her ass. A dull pain heaved in my chest. I hated myself for adding to her nightmare. At least I came back to do the right thing.

I needed to figure out the daily routine at the brothel; how far gone she was on heroin, and try to make a plan. There was no Intel team on the ground making action plans for me. I was in charge. And alone. No one to watch my back...or hers.

T
here wasn’t even
an embassy in Aruba—the closest one was in Curaçao so even if I could somehow smuggle her out of here, she’d have nowhere to go. I needed to get her out of here and safely back on American soil as soon as possible.

Maybe I should’ve told Vic. But Vic played by the rules. He would’ve never let me go rogue. Or accompany me to a brothel, for that matter. Vic was a good man, a deeply pious Catholic. When his wife cheated on him during our last mission, I didn’t know if he would make it. He spent every minute he could back in the States with his daughter, Carina. I knew he missed her like crazy. I couldn’t imagine having a child. My dad left before I was born, so I wouldn’t have a fucking clue about how to be a father.

Annie turned back toward me, dressed in her sweet yellow sundress, her hands fidgeting, as if she wanted approval.

“That looks nice on you,” I offered, careful not to compliment her body. Though she was way too skinny, and her skin was speckled with bruises and welts, she was still sexy as hell. Her pouty lips curved up, her wild hair framed her face. My mind flashed and I wondered if the situation was different, if she was my girl, what it would feel like to hike up her sundress, rip off her panties and feel her wet pussy clench around me. I knew I could never again cross the line with her. From now on, she was nothing more than a mission to me.

She sat on the cot next to me. I wanted to move over and put an invisible line of distance between us, but I kept her close by my side.

I whispered into her ear, “I need to take a few pictures, okay?”

She shrugged and I took out my phone. Took a shot of her ankle, her scar, and her face.

“What happened, Annie? Tell me everything.”

She remained silent, her dilated pupils fixed on the wall.

I pulled her to me and stroked her hair. “I’m sure they think by now they’ve broken you so much you’d never consider running. You can trust me. But I can only help you if you let me.”

Her shoulders dropped and she blinked rapidly.

I didn’t want to talk about myself, but I guess she needed more from me in order to open up. “I believe you, Annie.” Every time I said her name, more tears welled in her eyes. “I saw your tattoo, your eyes, and your scar. I’ve read the news reports. Once I heard you speak, I knew you were an American, but I was spooked. I don’t run away from problems, I fix them. If anyone can save you, I can. But if I told my command I found you, I’d have to go to Captain’s Mast for going to a brothel. My career would be over, and then I’d never be able to get you out of here. And they would have to clear any rescue plans through the CIA and FBI, which could take months. The closest embassy is in Curaçao. I’m confident I can rescue you, I just need some more info. So please, help me help you.”

She still didn’t say a word.

I ran my hands over the scabs on her arms, her skin was clammy. “So, you shoot heroin?”

Her voice trembled. “Yeah. I can’t stop. I want to, but they keep us high.”

Right. Can’t say I blamed her. “I get it. How long have you been in this brothel?”

“Don’t know. I’ve been traded around.” Every word she spoke I had to earn. The edge in her voice gutted me. “Different islands. Curaçao, Columbia, Venezuela. I speak Spanish so I don’t stand out. I’m so fucked up, it’s all a blur.”

So that’s how she’d survived so long. Her exotic looks and language skills must’ve helped her blend in with the other girls. “Are there any other American girls here?”

“No,” she whispered. “There was a girl, Nicole.”

Nicole Race? She’d disappeared on a family vacation a few years ago—I saw her name when I was researching Annie. She was last seen talking to a bartender at a popular tourist club in Curaçao. Was finding these girls not a priority? Didn’t the FBI and CIA have Intel out here? “Where is she?”

“Dead.” Her head shook a bit. “She OD’d. I’d convinced her we were going to be saved, but I’d been wrong. She gave up hope.”

My breath shortened, the sense of urgency mounted. I needed to get Annie out of here before she succumbed to her addiction, or a fate even worse than her current life.

Annie brushed against my arm. I didn’t want to touch her any more than necessary to comfort her. Enough men over the years had fondled her. “Who kidnapped you?”

“Renzo, the ballroom dancer at the resort. It was my fault. I left our room to go to the beach alone to take pictures of the sunrise and he grabbed me in the elevator.”

Motherfucker. My blood burned. But I needed to focus on the future, not the past. “Annie, this isn’t your fault. None of this is. I hope you know that. Are you ever allowed outside the brothel?”

“No.” The little bit of color she had in her cheeks seemed to fade away.

“Why’d you tell me your name?”

She stopped shaking and touched my face, tracing my beard with her fingers. A spike of warmth radiated through me. “Because you asked me my real name. No one has ever asked me. I knew you were an American. I was praying you were a Navy SEAL.” She paused and her fingers made their way down to my neck, my arms. “Your full beard, your strong arms, your muscles, your long hair—I knew you weren’t some typical sailor. Something about your eyes . . . sounds crazy, but I trusted you. Despite the fact you’d just paid a hooker to give you a blowjob, I could tell you were a good man. I’ve seen so many men and their eyes were dark, cold. Or worse, dead. But yours . . . I can’t explain it. They’re kind, but hurt. For five years, I’ve held on to this fantasy that I’d be rescued. I prayed for you, I’ve dreamt of you. I knew you were sent for me. You are my only hope.”

Whoa. Was she for real? I’m supposed to believe she willed me to save her, like some divine prophecy? I swallowed hard. She was probably flattering me to ensure I would help her, make me feel like I wasn’t such a loser for hiring a hooker. I didn’t need compliments; I’d save her no matter what.

This was getting intense. But I liked intense.

The courage it must’ve taken for this shell of a woman to open her mouth, say her name when she had no hope, showed me what a survivor she was. She was strong, like me.

“You told the right man. And I’m glad you showed me your tattoo. Your parents have it plastered all over their website.”

Her lip curled. “I wasn’t sure it was my ankle which had your attention at that moment. I figured if I did a good job,” she went on, “then maybe you would believe me.”

That made me feel like a grade-A asshole. My pants became tighter and I decided to change the subject.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Her head bobbed forward, her eyes shifted. Maybe she just got high. I hadn’t spent any time around drug addicts, so I didn’t know what to expect. “What does everyone think happened to me?”

I didn’t want to sugar coat it—she deserved the truth. “You committed suicide, Chris murdered you, or you ran away and started a new life. Chris has made several statements where he insists you were kidnapped, but most people believe he was trying to shift the blame off of himself.”

Her head cocked up, and her left hand tugged at her earlobe. I could see the quiet intensity that she’d had with me snap. “Killed myself? Why the fuck would I kill myself? I had the best life—I was in college, had a great boyfriend, and was the star of my college’s soccer team. I was drunk, yeah, but we were on land. Didn’t anyone else see me that morning? Who the fuck thought Chris could’ve killed me? That’s fucking ridiculous—he’s a Buddhist vegan surfer, I mean the dude doesn’t even eat dairy. Haven’t there been sightings of me? I’ve been fucked by hundreds of men, even diplomats, police, FBI, secret service, military. Not one of those assholes reported me? Renzo took pictures of me and put them on a fucking escort website. He even covered my tattoo with a sheet. No one saw those? My dad is loaded—hasn’t he sent people to find me? Or at least my body? He’s just accepted that I’m dead?”

I rubbed her back. I wished I could take away all her pain. “I only know what I read today on the internet, but you’re right, it makes no sense. Your parents hired some guy to find you, but he was a con man. There were some sightings but they couldn’t be confirmed. I’m so sorry. I’m going to take care of you. You aren’t alone anymore.”

But she was alone. I knew damn well I was leaving to head back to the States tonight, without her. I’d racked my brain on every way I could get her out of here and safely to the embassy or to my ship. I was unarmed, unable to bring my weapons off the ship. There wasn’t even an embassy in Aruba. A sloppy rescue attempt would get us killed. Even if I had told Vic and Kyle, there was nothing we could do to extract her tonight. Nothing.

Her breathing slowed down and she looked up at me, her eyes hopeful. Fuck, she felt her freedom was mere hours away. I couldn’t tell her, not yet.

“Why’d you choose me? The other girls are younger, sexier. Why me?”

“No they aren’t, not to me. You’re beautiful, Annie. You were the only one I wanted.” Defending my attraction to her, now knowing that she was a sex slave churned my stomach. “Look, I had no idea you were trafficked. Prostitution is legal here. I guess I wanted to believe this job was your choice. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never been to a brothel. My life and job are stressful. I’ve been deployed for six months. I don’t have a girl back home waiting for me. I’m not a cheater. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”

She turned to comfort me, placing her hand on my back. “It’s okay. I understand. You were just lonely.”

A longing crept up inside me. I’d never admit it, but I was lonely. My men were more than coworkers, they were family. We were the most elite fighting force in the world, and supposed to be tough. But every now and then, I missed the closeness of being in a relationship with a woman. Someone who worried about me while I was away, dreamt of me at night. Someone who was actually in love with me, not just the idea of being fucked by a SEAL. I couldn’t offer a lavish lifestyle on my salary or daily attention because I was never around. Even so, I wanted to be the reason someone smiled in the morning.

Back to work. “How many men secure this place?”

“Jose. And Renzo. And others. They know everybody. I don’t think you can save me.”

“I’ve taken men a thousand times more dangerous than them. Annie, I’m going to get you out of here, but I can’t do it today. I’m deployed and our ship leaves in a few hours.” Her head started shaking, but I continued. “I need my weapons, to case the entire building, the surrounding area, get a car, and find a safe house for you. Bring a few of my buddies. You have to act normal. Do what they say. We’re leave Aruba tonight to return home, but I will come back for you, I promise.”