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“Hey Prez, our contact said they’ll be here in fifteen,” someone calls from behind me, and I know . . . I realize I should snap out of whatever’s gotten into me and withdraw from the embrace, but I can’t get my body to move away from this giant of a man.
A shiver shakes my body when he lifts a massive palm to my head to cup it, and I let his awkward pats soothe and ground me.
“Thank you for rescuing us,” I whisper again, losing myself in the stranger’s scent.
When the police officer I’d given my report to stopped me a couple blocks down the street to offer me a ride to the women’s shelter, I’d eagerly accepted. I’d always believed that the police could be trusted implicitly. I’ve now learned how very wrong I was. Despite my best efforts, I’d quickly fallen asleep in the patrol car, lulled by a sense of safety after a stressful day.
I’d woken to the sound of gravel crunching under tires as we pulled into a field. Before I could ask where we were or what was happening, I was abruptly pulled from the car and thrown into the back of a box truck by men whose faces I couldn’t see. I thought it was the end of my life. I figured I was being kidnapped, so I tried to pled with them to let me go, telling them that I had no money or family to pay my ransom, but they simply shoved a gun to my temple and threatened to shoot me if I made a sound.
It wasn’t until I saw the other girls in the truck that I realized I wasn’t being kidnapped for ransom.
What were the chances that I would get trafficked within only a few hours of being robbed of all my possessions? How could I be so unlucky?
“You’re okay,” the beast rumbles in my ear, sending a tremor down my neck and calming me further.
He saved me. I remind myself that this beast of a man and his friends saved us. I am not delusional enough to think they’re the good guys. Not with their cold, hard eyes and tattooed arms and necks. But in this moment, they’re our heroes.
The thought drives home the knowledge that a person’s trustworthiness can never be judged on appearances alone.
A bunch of baby-faced teens robbed me, and a tired, middle-aged cop facilitated my being trafficked, along with a bunch of other girls. After my panic-riddled brain calmed down a bit and I realized that, at nineteen, I was the oldest among the kidnapped girls, I tried to be strong. I promised the sobbing girls that someone would come for us even though I hadn’t believe it myself.
I tried not to show how badly this city had beaten me in only a few hours.
Christ, I’m so tired!
I burrow deeper into the giant’s arms when I realize I don’t need to be strong anymore and don’t pull away until I hear one of the girls sniffle back a sob. Only then do I force myself away from the solid embrace and turn back to the truck, ignoring the tears that drip down my cheeks.
“You can come out, girls,” I call out. “The police are on their way. We’re safe now.”
They hesitate, but only for a second before they all start filing out, one after the other. Most of the girls are underage and were kidnapped right off the streets after running away from home or in a similar fashion as me.
I push back my feelings and comfort the girls, hugging the youngest one until someone announces that the cops are only a few minutes out. The giant of a man turns toward me.
“That’s my cue. The police will be here any minute. They’ll take care of you. We were never here, do you understand?”
“What?” I cry. “No! You can’t leave.” I don’t know how to put into words how terrified I am at the thought of this man leaving.
My tone must frighten the small girl in my arms because she whimpers and clings to me tighter. I give her a squeeze before passing her off to the girl next to me, who appears to be only a couple of years older than her. Fortunately, she goes willingly, and I am able to turn back to the man. Only to find he’s walking away.
“Hey! Wait!” I shout, chasing after him. I rush to his side and put a hand on his arm, causing him to whirl around quickly. His eyes have a dangerous glint to them, and I gasp, backing up so fast, I nearly fall over my feet. He reaches out quickly and grabs my arms to steady me.
“Are you okay?” His eyes soften as they meet mine, and I realize he isn’t as scary as I’d first believed. I think his friend called him Priest. Not sure if that’s his real name or his profession, but either way, those dark eyes threaten to undo what little control I am clinging to.
I hold back from jumping into his arms this time, despite how badly I want to.
“I’m . . .” I start to assure him that I am fine, but I would be lying. I’m the furthest thing from okay, but that doesn’t matter now. “The police . . . It was a cop that kidnapped me. How do we know these police are safe? That we’ll be okay? Can’t you stay with us?” I’m babbling, I know, but the thought of this man leaving me behind has icy dread coursing through my veins.
Priest’s eyes go dangerously dark again, and he clenches his jaw. Somehow, though, I know his anger isn’t directed at me. “They’re safe, I promise you. They will make sure everyone gets the care they need and is reunited with their families.”
“How can you be so sure?” I whisper, staring into the giant’s coal black eyes, so dark they threaten to suck me into their bottomless depths, but I refuse to look away. I need this—to know that the girls are safe is the only thing keeping me standing at this point.
Priest studies me for a moment, his gaze sending a rush of heat down my spine. “I have connections on the force. I will follow up to make sure the girls are united with their families.”
I believe him. I don’t have the best track record for trusting people, but I trust this man for some reason.
I breathe out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. But, um, what about the girls who don’t have family?”
Dark eyes narrow on me once more, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see flashing lights across the barren distance.
