Fatal Secrets f-2

by Allison Brennan

  Things had changed. Not only was Jones dead and the entire case spinning out of control, but he didn’t want to leave. Specifically, he didn’t want to leave Sonia.

  Sonia had fallen asleep on the way to Dean’s apartment. She’d barely woken up as Dean led her up the four flights of stairs and into bed. She’d brought an overnight bag and barely managed to brush her teeth and pull on a tank top before collapsing into bed. Dean laid next to her and went out as soon as he heard her evenly breathing.

  She was still asleep, but she’d kicked off the covers and lay sprawled on her stomach, taking up over half the bed. She had just as much energy while sleeping as she did awake, but once she’d settled in this position an hour ago, she hadn’t moved.

  Light crept through the half-closed blinds and cast long, bright orange shadows across her near-naked body. Dean stirred below his waist as his gaze moved up Sonia’s lean body. He wasn’t going to wake her for sex, but he hoped she woke up on her own before they had to rush to leave.

  Dean noticed a tattoo on Sonia’s upper arm. It wasn’t cute or feminine, but crude and rough. He leaned forward, his chest tightening when he realized the mark wasn’t a tattoo. Three stars had been burned into her skin. He gently touched them, wishing he could take away the pain she’d suffered. Then he saw a faded scar on her shoulder blade, partly concealed by her tank top. He pushed the material aside, revealing a dark puckered double circle.

  Sonia stiffened, and he realized he’d woken her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I know they’re ugly, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  He rolled her over to her back and brushed her hair away from her face. “Who did that to you?”

  “Which marks? The circles when I was thirteen, or the stars when I was twenty-four?” She pushed him aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled off her tank top. The circles appeared more like a rounded infinity symbol, four inches long and two inches wide. Long, faint scars crisscrossed her back. Dean could scarcely breathe, rage swelling in proportions he’d never felt before.

  She stood, crossed to the bathroom, and shut the door.

  Dean swore under his breath. He’d never considered that Sonia had been abused as a child beyond what her father had done …

  “… or the stars when I was twenty-four?”

  Charlie Cammarata branded her? And he hadn’t been thrown into jail? Dean hoped he’d never meet the bastard again, because he didn’t know if he could stop his fist from connecting with Cammarata’s jaw.

  He should have realized she’d be sensitive about the scars, but at the same time she’d been so matter-of-fact about her past, he didn’t think. He wouldn’t hurt Sonia for anything. He hoped she knew that.

  When the shower turned on, Dean rose and considered joining Sonia. He’d show her that the marks didn’t affect how he felt about her. But thinking about what she had suffered, that her former partner had been involved in her trauma, further enraged him. He didn’t want Sonia to think his anger was at all directed toward her, nor did he want her to think that he felt sorry for her. Sonia would not tolerate pity, and he didn’t want to give her any excuse to walk out.

  Instead, Dean walked down the hall to the kitchen to make coffee. A fluffy white cat improbably named Mouse rubbed his lean body against Dean’s legs and meowed loudly. He reached down to scratch Agent Elliott’s cat, who instantly began to purr. The deep rumble was surprisingly soothing and Dean began to relax.

  “Maybe I should get a cat,” he mumbled.

  Sonia heard Dean walk away from the bathroom door. She almost wished she’d invited him in, but the embarrassment of her overreacting to Dean touching her scars had her hesitating. She owed him an explanation. First, she’d shower.

  Sonia stepped into the icy water to wake up, then turned on the hot water. As the shower warmed, she washed. She shouldn’t have been so snippy with Dean about the brand. But even though she thought she’d put what happened behind her, it still hurt to talk about it.

  She turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, and brushed her hair back into a wet ponytail. When she stepped from the bathroom, she smelled rich coffee in the air, and the white cat meowed a good morning at her. She absently scratched him behind the ears, then pulled fresh jeans and a black ICE T-shirt from her overnight bag. She didn’t have much variety in her work attire, but she was always comfortable.

  She stepped from the bedroom into the main living area. Dean sat at the small table drinking black coffee and reading the newspaper. He wore nothing but boxers and looked like a Greek god, muscles clearly defined even at rest.

  He glanced up when she walked in and smiled sheepishly. “I’m usually a better cook, but I haven’t had time to stock up.” He gestured to a box of cereal and milk on the table. He was eating an apple. “I have more of these, plus bananas, oranges, strawberries, melon.”

  “Sounds like heaven to me.” She sat down after pouring herself a cup of coffee, added a generous amount of milk to the cup, and sipped. A man who cooks, even if it was just putting out cereal and fruit, was a keeper in her book. She had apples at home. They were squishy and in the bottom of the refrigerator drawer, which looked none too clean.

  “I’m sorry,” they said simultaneously.

  Dean said, “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, it’s just … I put it behind me. I probably didn’t deal with it well, didn’t want to think about it after the internal affairs investigation and everything that happened ten years ago. I never talk about it. I told Riley after it happened, and he’s the only one who knows. Other than Kane, of course.”

  “Kane,” Dean said flatly.

  Did he sound jealous?

  “Kane saved my life. He’s like a brother to me.”

  She paused, wondering what to say and how to say it.

  “Sonia.” Dean took her hand. She looked at him, saw the respect in his eyes. No pity, not anger. Just raw affection and honesty. Dean was rock solid. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I want you to know that nothing you say to me will affect how I think of you.”

  Her chin quivered, and she swallowed and forced herself to toughen up.

  “I should start from the beginning, but it’s a long story.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sonia would never forget the night the men came to the village.

  “My father was a missionary who traveled from village to village throughout Central and South America teaching the people how to grow crops, how to preserve food. I didn’t see him much until my mother died and he returned to Argentina. I was four. He took me with him on his missions, and for nine years we lived in more villages than I can remember. We stayed four to six weeks before moving on. I didn’t remember anything from my early childhood, this was the only life I knew. And I liked helping people. I became good at figuring out different languages and dialects. I learned about farming and basic medicine.

  “My father was cold. From my earliest memories, he never hugged me or talked to me.”

  Dean said, “He didn’t talk to you?”

  She explained. “He didn’t have a conversation with me. You know, How was your day? Did you meet anyone today? It was all work. Translate for me. Get out to the field and show them how to pull the vegetables without destroying them. I did everything he asked, hoping to find favor-hoping he’d love me. He left for weeks at a time. Left me wherever we were. He told me he had business back in Argentina and he would come back for me. Once he left me in a village for ten months. I thought he was dead. I worked three times as hard as anyone because they didn’t like me. I was too white, too urban, too … I don’t know.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten. That time. I began to wish he’d never come back, then I’d feel so guilty that I didn’t like my own father. I thought he was a good man-someone who helped others-but he hated me. I didn
’t acknowledge it then, maybe I didn’t even understand. I thought he blamed me for my mother’s death. He leaves for a mission and six months later returns and she’s dead.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died suddenly. She’d always been sad, and my father told me she had cancer. I didn’t understand it then. But one day she was there, the next she wasn’t.”

  Sonia rose from her seat ostensibly to refill her coffee, but she needed to move. She paced the length of the great room, from the kitchen to the living area and back to the kitchen.

  “I was thirteen when he sold me. It was the middle of the night. I knew what was happening, but I didn’t believe it. Complete denial until he looked at me with contempt and said I had become a liability. That I was too curious.”

  There’s an American saying, Sonia. Curiosity killed the cat. You’re damn lucky you’re not a cat right now.

  “It took nearly two weeks to get to Texas. There were a lot of us, picked up from small towns as we moved north. Some girls came willingly, excited that they were going to America. That was how I found out about my destination. Some of the older girls said they were mailorder brides being delivered to their grooms. Others were going for work. Others didn’t talk, they were like me. Sold. Or kidnapped. I knew the eager ones were being lied to, but they didn’t believe me or I wasn’t convincing. I tried to figure out why my father gave me away-sold me-and I didn’t know. I thought I’d done something unforgivable, and this was punishment. I blamed myself for something I didn’t know I’d done. But deep down I knew he’d never loved me, never wanted me except to do things for him.” She laughed bitterly. “I had been a slave and didn’t even know it.”

  “Sonia-”

  She didn’t look at Dean, couldn’t look at him right now. Damn, why was this so hard? Had she convinced herself that she had gotten over the past, only to be lying to herself yet again? Just like she had while growing up with a father who didn’t love her?

  “One time I tried to escape. We’d passed a church and I knew it was my only chance to find help.

  “That’s when they whipped me.” She thought she was dead. And for a time, she wished they had killed her. But her will to survive was too great. She had to be smarter. Patient. “Then the bastard in charge burned me. I didn’t know then that he was branding me on purpose-I thought it was another punishment.”

  She sipped her coffee, her hands steady even though her stomach quivered.

  “Izzy and I were separated from the group and taken to a house in Texas, though I didn’t know where we were at the time.”

  “Who’s Izzy?” Dean asked.

  “I met her on the truck. I don’t know why we were separated from the other girls. Anyway, Izzy and I were locked in a basement. We barely understood each other but we were all we had. I wanted to escape but Izzy had accepted her fate.”

  Sonia stared out the partly open blinds into the bright sunrise. “Then one of them came down into the basement. He-” she closed her eyes, but when she saw Izzy’s dead eyes staring at her, she opened her own. Heart racing, she swallowed uneasily and said in a monotone, “He raped Izzy.”

  “God, Sonia-”

  “Not me. He just wanted me to watch. Told me since I was a virgin I’d make them a lot more money, but this would be my life. He was a brute, so large, so violent and he was hurting her-he killed Izzy. I saw it happening and tried to stop it, but she was already dead.”

  She turned to Dean. “I killed him. Shot him with his own gun that had slipped from his pants while he raped and murdered my only friend.”

  “You had no choice.”

  “I know. I know.” She took a deep breath. “Wendell Knight was the Texas Ranger who found me. My adopted dad’s brother. Wendell took me in because he didn’t want me to face the alternatives-juvenile hall or foster care. Obviously I couldn’t be sent home since authorities were looking for my father.

  “When he sold me, I thought I’d done something wrong. Thought I deserved it. In fact, for a while, I thought he’d buy me back, that he’d needed the money for something important, but he’d buy me back when he could. That delusion didn’t last long.

  “After the ring was arrested, Immigration tried to find him and couldn’t. I don’t know how hard they tried, I don’t even know if they believed everything I said. Some of the people I talked to looked at me like it was my fault. Some wanted me to disappear, go back to where I came from. Others wanted to help. I testified in court. It was a small town and everyone knew what had happened.”

  “I loved Wendell,” Sonia said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “He was the father I should have had. Then one day he was gone. Killed in the line of duty.”

  Dean put his hands on her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed that he’d even gotten up from the table. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders, sharing his strength with her. She leaned into him, just for a moment. But she had more to tell.

  “Owen and Marianne came for the funeral and asked if I wanted to live in California with them and their two sons. I would have done anything to get away from the rumors and mean kids and the numbing loss I felt. Without Wendell, there was nothing for me in Texas but bad memories.”

  “They’re good people, and they obviously love you.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

  Sonia smiled warmly. “I’m really lucky. I even went to college. Amazing really, because I never thought I’d have the opportunity. Working for INS was my only goal. I wanted a degree. I wanted to get into the program, and I was going to stop human trafficking. Single-handedly.” She stared at the ceiling. “I was young, idealistic, and stupid.”

  Dean said, “There’re a lot of people in our business who start out idealistic. I’m glad.”

  “But not you.” She couldn’t picture Dean charging windmills. He was too intense and focused. She turned to face him, saw that he hadn’t changed the way he looked at her even after her story. Her body began to relax as if it had a mind of its own. Or maybe it was because Dean took her hands and held them firmly.

  “My dad was a beat cop in Chicago. It’s all he was,” Dead said. “Unlike Owen Knight, who obviously loves his family and spent time with you. My dad was a good cop, but he didn’t know how to be a father or a husband. I came into the FBI a little jaded, I suppose. It wasn’t my first career choice.”

  “What was?”

  “After getting out of the Marines, I went to college to be a CPA. I was recruited into the FBI. Fifteen years ago, they wanted accountants. And I have a knack for numbers and financial connections.” Dean led her back to the table and poured cereal in a bowl for her.

  “Fifteen years and you’re already assistant director?” She took a bite to make him happy, though she was too wound up to eat.

  He waved the achievement away. “It’s not just tenure, it’s politics. I was successful on a few high-profile investigations early on, rose through the ranks quickly. In a way I wish I hadn’t. I prefer the grunt work over being in charge.”

  “You’re a natural leader,” Sonia said. “It’s obvious.”

  “So are you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m learning, but …” she stopped. Did she really want to go into this?

  Dean took her hand and kissed it. The rising sun cast a filtered array of orange and yellows through the blinds. She’d never felt safer.

  Sonia took a breath and said, “When I finished my training, I was assigned to El Paso. Charlie Cammarata was my training agent. We worked together for eighteen months. The first year was my training year; the second year was as his partner.

  “I worshipped him, I admit it. He was smart, brave, compassionate. He knew about my past, and said it made me a better person and a better agent. The Knights loved me, but honestly? We never talked about what my father did. For the first time, I felt I could talk about it, and Charlie listened. He made me feel powerful. Like I could make a difference. I trusted him.

  “Eighteen months
after I became an agent, Charlie told me we were going undercover in Costa Rica. The INS wanted two agents to go in to gather intelligence on a human trafficking ring. Both Charlie and I spoke Spanish fluently, and I knew dozens of dialects. All those years living in remote villages, I learned to pick up languages easily. I was excited. This was my first real chance to do something bigger and more important than border patrol.

  “What I didn’t know was that Charlie had no sanction from the INS. He told them he was taking a vacation. I learned later that he told people that he and I were involved and wanted to take a vacation together.” She shook her head. It still angered her how manipulative Charlie had been, and how readily she’d believed him.

  “So we were in this bar and I thought we had backup. I was a waitress, and I took great notes. Every night I wrote down names, numbers, towns, destinations, everything I overheard.

  “Ten days later, the bar was closing and I was waiting for Charlie to walk me back to the room we’d rented. He didn’t show, and my boss in the bar was an asshole. He kicked me out, though it was late and the neighborhood was dicey. Still, I was young and stupid. I had no gun, no identification because Charlie told me that would be a giveaway. He gave me a can of mace and with that in hand, I started walking.

  “I was grabbed by a meaty thug not twenty feet from the bar entrance. I maced the guy, then someone else grabbed me from behind, and the next thing I know, I’m in a truck, and we’re moving. And there are dozens of girls with me.”

  “Where was Charlie?”

  Sonia closed her eyes. “I didn’t know it then, but he’d hidden in the alley and watched the whole thing. I overheard the men saying my brother had sold me to them, that I was a virgin and worth a lot of money. I didn’t believe them. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

  “No one came to rescue me. We were heading south, toward Panama. I thought Charlie was following. He was, but not to save me. He was mapping the route because two months before, a dozen girls from a Costa Rican orphanage had been kidnapped and he didn’t know where they were taken, but he knew which ring sold them. He’d sold me into that ring, hoping they’d lead him to the orphans.”