Page 12 of Reckless Desires

I shake my head, the weight of my choices bearing down on me. “Life took a turn.”

He nods and then there’s another pause. “Did you ever find him?” Mickey asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nope.” I shrug, the sadness creeping in. “I stopped trying when I realized I was searching for someone who wanted nothing to do with me.”

He pats my back with his hand and then changes the subject.

Mickey fills me in on the changes in the area, how the gang he had started before I left is now the largest and most feared in Northern Ireland.

“Anything you need, little brother,” he says, clinking his beer bottle against mine. “Should you choose to come back for good, my right-hand position is open for you.”

I nod, gratitude swelling within me. “Thanks, Mickey.”

“Now let me introduce you to Izzy’s new boyfriend,” he says, mischief dancing in his eyes. “He’s an odd fellow.”

And in that moment, amidst the laughter and the sorrow, I feel the first flickers of hope that perhaps, just slightly, I can find my way back home.

Chapter Seven

Lily

“Wake up,” a soft voice says, a hand shaking my shoulder.

I jolt upright in bed, but the metal cuffs bite into my wrists, the rope securing me in place dragging my body back down, forcing me to feel every ounce of confinement.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says with a voice almost soothing against the chaos in my mind. “But you have to do what I tell you to, otherwise the men are going to come in.” The woman looms over me, her face lined with fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, dark hair streaked with thin ribbons of gray. “Come on. It’s time to use the washroom and get cleaned up.”

“Leave me alone,” I spit, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance as I fight against the restraints binding me.

“Listen, I’m the best chance you have at making it out of this alive, so you’re going to do what I say, and you’re not going to create any problems along the way.” The woman grabs my arm, holding me in place while reaching up to untie the rope from the cuffs.

The moment the ropes fall away, I lunge, adrenaline surging through me as I strike her hard across the face trying to get away from her. Freedom feels like a heartbeat away. She’s on me in an instant, tackling me to the ground. There’s a sharp pain that runs through my shoulder, making me yelp. The pain shoots down my arm.

Her knee presses into my side as she keeps holding me down and commands, “Cooperate!”

“Like hell I will! Get the fuck off me, you fucking bitch!” I squirm and try to get out from under her. “You’re working with them. I’m not going to do anything you tell me to.”

“I might be with them, but I’ve survived this long by following orders.” She releases me just enough to haul me to my feet. “I’m Farrah, by the way. Come on. We’re going to get you cleaned up, and then we’re going to talk about what’s going to happen next.”

“I don’t want to know what’s going to happen! I just want to escape this nightmare and go back to my family,” my voice cracks, tears burning in my eyes as she shoves me toward the bathroom.

I've lost track of how long I've been trapped on this boat. A man comes in twice a day to let me use the restroom and give me something to eat, but by the end of it, I'm always locked back up on that bed, barely able to move. I don't have any more tears left to cry.

But this morning, it's all changed. The boat stopped. Really stopped. There was a slight jolt as it docked. Maybe this is going to be my chance to escape.

“It looks like it's your lucky day.”

“I doubt anything about today is going to be lucky,” I snap. “Where are we? What's happening to me?”

“Strip,” she commands with a tone that is flat and devoid of empathy.

“I’m not going to get naked in front of you.” I take several steps back, looking around the cramped bathroom for anything I can use as a weapon—scissors, comb, hell, I’ll even use a toothbrush.

Nothing.

The woman steps forward, grabbing my wrists with an iron grip as she pulls out a key. “I don’t have time for your tantrums. I’m sure you’re dying for a shower.”

“I’m being sex trafficked, aren’t I?”