Dangerous Games: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  “This is Avery Halloran.”

  She steps toward me, her expression difficult to describe. Almost like awe. On a hard swallow, I extend my hand to this woman who knew my birth mother in some capacity.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  She nears, but instead of grabbing my hand, she wraps her arms around me, taking me by surprise.

  “You’re alive.” Her body trembles with her cries of relief. “That’s all Sofia wanted. For you to be safe.” She pulls back, peering at me. “You look so much like her. But she’s right. You have your father’s eyes.”

  I blink repeatedly. “My father? You know who my father is?”

  Her expression falls, her gaze awash with remorse. “Was. I knew who your father was.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why don’t we all have a seat?” Lincoln suggests, gesturing for me to sit on the couch across from Avery. He retakes his position in the reading chair, while Oliver sits opposite him in another chair. Chloe lowers herself next to me, taking my hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “I assume you have a lot of questions,” Oliver tells me. “I know I did when I met her yesterday. I can assure you, I spent all night vetting her story. As far as I can tell, what she’s about to share with you is true. Be warned, though. It may not be easy for you to hear. It was difficult for me, and I don’t have a horse in this race, so to speak.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I can handle it.”

  “She can,” Chloe adds. “She’s a pediatric oncology nurse. This woman deals with kids dying on a daily basis yet still goes to work.”

  “You’re a nurse?” Avery breathes, and we all look at her.

  “I am.”

  “Your mother wanted to be a nurse before she…” She swallows hard. “Well, before.”

  “Why don’t you start with where you met Sofia,” Oliver suggests.

  The affection in her gaze turns blank, and she stares into the distance, as if watching a movie. “In hell.”

  The tone of her voice causes a chill to trickle down my spine.

  “It didn’t seem that way at first. It seemed like it was exactly what I needed. What we were all looking for.” She pulls her quivering lip between her teeth. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Lincoln offers. “I think that might help Isabella understand what we’re dealing with.”

  Avery nods, then looks back at me, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “When I was fifteen, I got pregnant. I was young and stupid. Grew up in a small town in Virginia where people didn’t talk about sex. They pretended it didn’t happen, so forget about anyone teaching teenagers how to protect themselves if they did have sex. My home life wasn’t great. Dad drank a lot. Worked a factory job. Mom was a waitress at a diner. To say money was tight was an understatement. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified, had no idea what to do.

  “One day, when both my parents were working, I stole twenty bucks from where I knew my father hid money to buy liquor and took a bus to a nearby city. Went to a clinic to see what my options were. All I knew was, if my father found out about my pregnancy, he’d kill me.

  “As I left the clinic, a woman approached. Told me she could help if I wanted to keep the baby. I explained I couldn’t. That my parents couldn’t know I was pregnant. That adoption wasn’t an option because they’d still find out.” She blows out a laugh. “In retrospect, I should have told them. Any abuse I would have suffered at my father’s hand would have been nothing compared to what I went through.” Her voice is strained as she fights back a wave of tears.

  “Who was the woman?” I press, angling toward her.

  “I don’t know. I should have asked. But this is what they did. They preyed on teenage girls who’d just found out they were pregnant. I couldn’t afford to get an abortion. Plus, I was a minor. My parents would have had to give consent. This woman gave me an alternative.”

  “And what was that?”

  “She told me she helped at a home for girls just like me. Young. Scared. Pregnant. Painted this amazing picture. How they had private tutors so we could continue our education. Offered lessons to learn various skills. Provided all the medical care and treatment. Gave us a place to live for the duration of our pregnancy. All at no cost…at least in dollars.”

  “What did they get out of it?” I ask, although I fear I already know the answer.

  “A baby. They didn’t come right out and demand we surrender our parental rights upon giving birth, but that was all part of their indoctrination. Since I didn’t think I had any other option, I took this stranger up on her offer.”

  “What was this home like?”

  “It was actually refreshing.” A slight smile builds on her lips. “I had a roof over my head. I didn’t have to worry about a drunk father coming home and hitting me because he felt like it. We had to go to daily religious lessons, which I could have done without, but I figured it was the least I could put up with in exchange for everything these people were doing for me.”

  “Did you ever talk to your parents? Tell them where you were?”

  “No. I was still scared of them learning the truth. After a while, I no longer thought of my parents anymore, was convinced they didn’t care about me.”

  “Why?”

  “It started gradually, but over the length of my pregnancy, they completely indoctrinated me. Took away my ability to think freely. Convinced me I was incapable of caring for myself, so I’d never be able to care for another human. Made me believe the only thing I was good for was having babies for other valuable members of society.”

  “That sounds like something straight out of a dystopian novel.”

  “It does, but there’s nothing dystopian about what I endured for ten years.”

  “You stayed even after you gave birth?”

  She pulls her lower lip between her teeth to stop her chin from quivering. I’m not sure I want to know what happened in the years that followed, although a part of me fears I already do.

  “About a week after I gave birth, they’d made arrangements with another facility. They’d give me a place to stay while I got back on my feet. I didn’t even consider going home. These people had me convinced my parents weren’t good people, that I should cut all ties with them. So, instead of returning to a house of sin, as they referred to my old home, they drove me to what I thought would be a halfway house. But it wasn’t. It was the place that would become my prison for the next decade.”

  “Do you remember where it was?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You didn’t take note of any landmarks during the drive? Cities? Towns? Statues? Anything?”

  “I would have, had I not fallen asleep. That was a common theme among all of us. We all fell asleep.”

  “They drugged you,” I breathe.

  “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. After all, I’d just given birth. I was pretty tired.”

  “What was it like? This so-called halfway house?”

  She looks to the ceiling, as if trying to recall the details after the passage of years. “At any given time, there were several dozen women. The conditions were so uncomfortable, you eventually began to want to get pregnant.”

  I scrunch my brows. “What? Why?”

  “If you were pregnant, you got moved to a different section of the compound. They needed to make you comfortable so nothing happened to the baby. They didn’t care about your life. But once you were pregnant, you were carrying a gift from God.”

  “It’s like The Handmaid’s Tale.”

  “It does bear a strong resemblance, but in the book, they did it to repopulate what they believed to be a dying civilization. Here, their sole motivation was greed.”

  “Greed?”

  She nods. “Desperate parents were willing to pay twenty grand, minimum, for a baby.”

  “Did these parents know what was going on?” I couldn’t imagine any prospective parent being okay wit
h adopting a child born under these conditions.

  “I doubt it. From what I was able to learn during my time there, all adoptions were legitimate. This was where all that brainwashing came into play. I signed away my parental rights each and every time I gave birth. I didn’t think I had a choice. It took me years to realize I was more than a walking uterus. I still struggle with it, and it’s been nearly twenty years.”

  “So they were running a baby mill? Did the first home you went to know? Or do you think they were just as blind to it as you were?”

  “They knew. It’s why they worked so hard to brainwash us. That way, we wouldn’t put up a fight when they sold our bodies so we’d get pregnant, then when they sold the babies.”

  I chew on my lower lip as I consider my next question. I feel a squeeze on my hand and look to Chloe. I’d forgotten she was here, too consumed by Avery’s story.

  “Tell me about my mother. What was she like?”

  She swipes at her cheeks, giving a small smile. “Strong. Stubborn.”

  I blow out a laugh. “Sounds like me.”

  “She had this vitality, even in our surroundings. Always had a way of making us smile.”

  “How did she end up there? Did you ever talk about it?”

  “Her story was much like mine. Inattentive parents. Got pregnant and was scared. Was approached by a woman who offered her a fresh start. But unlike the rest of us, I don’t think they completely reprogrammed her. Because when she was pregnant with you, she began to question things. It could be because she’d fallen in love.”

  “With who?”

  “Adam,” she responds with a lift of the shoulders.

  “Who was Adam?”

  “One of the security guards who escorted us to see ‘clients’.”

  “He was her captor?” My voice rises in pitch, my disbelief evident.

  “As an outsider peering in, it’s hard to understand. But Adam gave her something in that dark place. Compassion. He fell for her, too. Saw what we all saw in her.”

  “And she was certain he was my father?”

  She nods. “Instead of taking her to a client, they spent time together. Adam paid off the clients she was supposed to see, as well as made sure the cash she was expected to earn still made it into the pool. It’s why he struggled to scrape together enough money to get her out of there.”

  “How did she end up at JFK Airport on Christmas?”

  “About a week before your due date, they move you to a different facility.”

  “Let me guess. Adam was to transport Sofia to this other facility.”

  She nods. “Yes. But they never made it.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “He was trying to get her to Canada, but she went into labor before they made it. He tried to talk her into going to a hospital, but she refused. Didn’t want to risk it. So she gave birth to you in a New Jersey motel room, your father by her side. Probably not the story you envisioned, but at least she wasn’t alone.” She swipes at a tear streaming down her cheek. “She had someone who loved her holding her hand and supporting her. Every time I’d given birth, that was all I wanted. So I’m glad Sofia could have that.”

  It’s not what I’d want when giving birth, but I guess after having everything taken from you — your liberty, your autonomy, your ability to think — you hold on to what you can.

  “What happened next?” I ask finally.

  “It didn’t take long for them to realize Adam hadn’t shown up with Sofia. According to the story Sofia told, he wanted to give her time to recuperate before leaving, thought they would be okay since he made sure to pay cash for everything. But on Christmas morning, he went out to get diapers and never came back.”

  “So she left, too?”

  Avery nods. “They had an agreement that if more than four hours passed and he hadn’t returned, she’d get out of there. So she grabbed the passport and cash he’d set aside, just in case, and took a cab to JFK. Unfortunately, the flight she was able to get was delayed. And that’s what got her caught. At least Adam had talked her into leaving you behind if it came to that. According to Sofia, he was pretty adamant about it. It was why he insisted she carry a baby doll around. As a decoy.”

  The room grows still as I stare blankly at the wall in front of me, all of Lincoln’s accolades hanging on it. But I don’t really see any of them. All I can think about is if my mother hadn’t gone into labor, they would have been able to get to Canada and wouldn’t have had to run anymore. Then again, these people may have eventually caught up with them.

  “What happened next?”

  Avery hangs her head, drawing her lips between her teeth. “They made an example out of them. Shot Adam in the head while we all watched, then beat Sofia. It was a warning of what would happen if we tried something like that.”

  “They didn’t kill her?” I ask hopefully.

  “She had two good ovaries and a uterus. Couldn’t waste those,” she shoots back sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

  “Is she…”

  On a long exhale, she slowly shakes her head. “After about two years of not conceiving, they took her to a doctor on their payroll. That was the last time I saw her.”

  “Oh.”

  “Rumor was she had a prolapsed uterus. Since she could no longer conceive and had tried to escape, she was, well… Word is they killed her, but I never could confirm that.”

  I close my eyes, steeling myself to not break down. Once I heard the body language expert’s analysis on my mother’s behavior, I knew there was a chance she wouldn’t be alive. I guess a part of me held on to hope she was, that she survived whatever she’d endured.

  “Is that what happened to all the girls who could no longer conceive? They were killed?”

  “No. Most were sold, either into sexual slavery or forced servitude. After what we’d been through, they couldn’t let us walk free. We knew too much.”

  “How did you escape?”

  She smiles. “A nurse at the hospital.”

  My eyes widen. “They took you to a hospital? Wouldn’t that be a sure way to get caught?”

  “In some situations, they had no choice if they wanted to save the baby. I’d started bleeding heavily at thirty-six weeks. They’d taken me to see the midwife who delivered all the babies, thinking I was going into labor, but I wasn’t, so they took me to the hospital to make sure the baby was okay. The doctors discovered I had placenta previa, my placenta was blocking my cervix, which meant, unless my placenta shifted in the next few weeks, I’d have to have a C-section. I’d have to have the baby in a hospital, not at the birthing facility.”

  A contemplative look crossed her face. “It’s funny. I was out in public, yet I never once thought to find out where I was. I’d been so brainwashed, it didn’t even matter. There was no question in my mind I’d have the baby, then repeat the cycle.”

  “What changed?”

  “Before the nurse signed off on my discharge papers, she asked me a question no one had in over ten years.”

  “What was that?”

  “‘Do you need help?’ I almost didn’t hear it at first. It was so quiet. So soft. Then I met her compassion-filled eyes. For the first time in years, I felt human, like I had worth. So I nodded. I instantly regretted it, especially when she left the room without saying a word. I was so scared she was telling someone what I’d done. Instead, she returned with a wheelchair, then pushed me down to the back loading dock and into a waiting ambulance. Told me not to look back, only forward. That looking back would only get me killed.”

  She smiles a small smile. “So that’s what I did. The ambulance drove me to another hospital, where a woman took me to the next stop. It was like an underground railroad, which made me believe this wasn’t their first rodeo. That some of those girls who’d gone to the hospital and never came back had been saved. For years, I tried to find out who it was, who saved my life, but everything from that day is a blur, apart from the woman who reminded me I was human
.”

  “And the baby?”

  She smiles, everything about her glowing. “Isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a sophomore at Northwestern University.”

  “You kept him.” My words come out as more a relieved statement than a question.

  “After being forced to give up so many other babies, I figured it was time I finally kept one. He became my reason for everything. Still is. And I guess that’s why I never spoke up before now. I stayed quiet for him. To protect him. To keep him safe.”

  “And now?”

  Her expression morphs into one of anger. “Now I’ll do everything I can to help you find the people responsible for this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The ink on the pages in front of me bleeds together, my tired eyes refusing to read anything else. I roll my neck, trying to loosen the muscles after having spent all day pouring over some of the unsolved missing person police files Lincoln was able to obtain. After listening to Avery’s story, I became even more obsessed with getting to the bottom of this. So did she. She’s been saddled with guilt, too. Can’t shake the feeling that, had she acted sooner, maybe the police could have put the pieces together.

  Thankfully, it hasn’t been a total lost cause. She’d agreed to try hypnosis, hoping it would help jumpstart her memory. After several sessions over the past few weeks, she’s brought forward a few memories of being in Maryland at some point. We’re hopeful that, as time goes by and her hypnotherapist is able to take her deeper and deeper into her past, she’ll remember more details her brain’s been protecting her from.

  It should be enough that I now have information on my mother. She has a name, a face. Hell, I even found out who my father was. He sacrificed everything to save my mother, to save me. But that’s still not enough, not after hearing Avery’s story. I’ve lived my professional life according to the motto, “Do no harm”. I can’t help but feel like I’m doing harm if I don’t make sure the people behind this are no longer able to hurt anybody else.

  “You should come write for the magazine,” Chloe offers from across the table in her dining room, her own attention devoted to finding an anomaly that may be the break we need for this entire house of cards to come crumbling down.