Race Against Time

by Sharon Sala

  The silence in the room was sudden—almost as if men were afraid to breathe, and then the auctioneer slammed the gavel down on the dais.

  “The girl known as Star is no longer for sale.”

  Starla blinked at the name change. She was lost—so lost—and now she no longer existed.

  “Take the girl down now,” the man said.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Baba. Right away.”

  Baba snapped his fingers. A man came running behind him carrying a long white robe. When Star was led down the steps, Mr. Baba held it out for her to put on and then turned her around to face him and tied the ties himself. The gesture was not lost on her. For all intents and purposes, she was now tied to him.

  * * *

  The first plane ride of her life was in a private jet in the middle of the night. It landed in a city emblazoned with lights. It would be a week before she would know it was Las Vegas.

  Her first night in his bed was a learning experience in how much pain she could bear before he would climax. Every time she cried out, he rammed her harder. It was as effective a reminder to shut up as the gag in her mouth had been to keep her silent.

  In the daylight he was a consummate gentleman, calling her his shining princess and shining star, saying she was going to bring him good luck. So she set about learning everything she could about how to please him, how to make his climax happen sooner and with more intensity. She made herself indispensable to him in the sex department, but always with an eye on one day making her escape, until the night Anton sat her down and showed her a video. He called it insurance against her urge to run. She called it carnage. Just thinking about her family innocently opening a door to that fate gave her nightmares. In that moment, she gave up plotting for a better future in the hopes that she would be keeping the people she loved safe and alive.

  And so one year followed another and then another, when one day, to her horror, after one of their vacation trips to his Mexican villa, she found herself pregnant.

  * * *

  Star missed her period. The shock and the implications were staggering. Women in Anton’s houses were not allowed to keep babies. Abortions were SOP—standard operating procedure. While the thought of being tied to him for life by the birth of his child was abhorrent, the idea of aborting her own baby was worse, and she kept silent, still waiting for a way to make a break. And then a week later, the nausea began. She hid it for a while by waiting to get up until after he had left their bed. Then one morning he came back to get his watch and heard her throwing up.

  When he rushed into the bathroom, she was on her knees in front of the commode, trembling in every muscle, praying that was the last wave of nausea when he walked in.

  “Star! What’s happening?”

  Startled by the sound of his voice, she rocked back on her heels and started to cry.

  He pulled her to her feet, then got a wet cloth and began wiping her face.

  “You are sick. I will call a doctor.”

  If he did, he would know the truth, and someone else would be telling him. If she stood a chance at all, it had to come from her.

  “I’m not sick. I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened. I take my birth control pills as you request. I never miss. I never forget. But...remember the night I got food poisoning when we were in Mexico? I threw up all night and most of the next day. I took my pill as always, but it must have come up before it had time to get into my system.”

  She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs.

  “Please forgive me, Anton. I would never mean to displease you. I live to make you happy.”

  Anton was in shock. The idea of becoming a father had never entered his mind. But this girl he’d taken from an auction block had turned into a woman over the past five years, and in doing so had become entrenched in his life.

  He put a hand on the top of her head and then lifted her to her feet.

  Star was in desperation mode, and the only thing she could think to do was feed his ego. Make him believe she adored him as much as she pretended to do.

  “Please don’t make me kill our baby. Please, Anton, don’t make me kill a part of you.”

  Anton believed what she’d said. She worshipped him. She was a beautiful woman who was carrying his child. What if it was a boy? In two years he would be fifty. What would happen to his fortune of flesh when he died? Maybe it was time to think about an heir.

  “Don’t cry, my shining Star. We will keep this baby. You will give me a son. I will have an heir.”

  She shuddered.

  “What if it’s a girl?”

  He frowned.

  “I do not sire girls. It will be a boy.”

  He helped her up, had his secretary make an appointment for her at an obstetrician’s office and then had the chef bring her something to calm her stomach.

  Every day afterward, he did not leave their bedroom until she’d had weak tea and toast in bed, until she was able to get up without nausea.

  Eight months later, Samuel Anton Baba was laid in his mother’s arms, with Anton standing beside her. But it wasn’t love he felt for the child, only pride.

  * * *

  Star went home to a nursery someone else decorated and a nanny who took the baby out of her arms. Anton gave Star a week, and then she was back on the job, satisfying his sexual appetite with her wits and her hands until her body had time to heal.

  The months passed, and while Anton found that he enjoyed watching Sammy grow and witnessing the milestones that came to each baby’s life...first words, first steps, he also realized he had become jaded with Star. She had gone from sexy siren to a mother figure, and he no longer desired her in that way. Just after Sammy’s second birthday, Anton fired their personal chef and hired a new one—a woman named Lacey, who’d come highly recommended by a friend. Lacey was in her early thirties, short and stocky with black hair she wore combed into a Mohawk, and was as good in the kitchen as Star was in the bedroom. The only thing Anton didn’t know about her was that she was an undercover Fed.

  Anton Baba had long been suspected of being behind a large ring of human trafficking, but the Feds had never been able to prove it. Sending their agent in undercover was risky, but her skills in cooking gave her the edge she needed to get into his personal space.

  It didn’t take long for Lacey to learn Anton did not conduct business from his home. The only armed men on the premises were the guards who worked for him. During the two months she’d been there, she had learned nothing that would aid in building a case. Her superiors were considering pulling her out when Lacey picked up on some gossip among the staff. If what they were saying was true, she might have found a weak link in Baba’s business—Star Davis, who was the mother of his child.

  * * *

  Star was in the nursery rocking Sammy to sleep for his afternoon nap. She loved this time with him, watching his long dark lashes as they fluttered against his cheeks while he fought to stay awake, and then the peaceful perfection of his little face after he finally fell asleep. She was about to put him to bed when she heard Anton’s voice. She thought he was upstairs looking for her but didn’t want to call out and wake up Sammy. But when she realized he was on the phone, she relaxed.

  It wasn’t until she heard her name and how he was describing her that she realized he only considered her a product to sell.

  Her life as she’d known it was about to explode. Learning that he wanted his son but he no longer wanted her was a death sentence. She would rather die than live a life somewhere else knowing her baby was growing up without her.

  Anton’s voice faded as he walked away, but what she’d overheard had been the warning she needed. As soon as she put Sammy to bed she grabbed his diaper bag and began packing it for a getaway, then left it inside his closet.

  The hardest thing she�
�d ever done was pretend nothing was wrong as she went downstairs to the kitchen. Lacey, the chef, had been preparing vegetables for Sammy and then pureeing them for her, but she wouldn’t be able to take food like this, and began gathering up jars of baby food from the pantry.

  Lacey saw the tears on Star’s face as she entered the kitchen, and when Star went to the pantry without speaking, she followed.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Star. Can I help you in any way?”

  Star shook her head and kept sorting through the jars.

  “I’ll be happy to make something fresh for Sammy,” Lacey offered.

  Star couldn’t talk for fear she’d burst into tears, and just shook her head as she set aside little jars of fruit and vegetables, and a box of teething crackers.

  “Looks like we’re packing for another trip. Want me to get a small box?” she asked.

  Star panicked.

  “No, please. I just need...” Star took a deep breath, trying to control the spreading panic, and started over. “I just need to—”

  A jar of applesauce slipped from her fingers and shattered on the pantry floor.

  Horrified, Star burst into tears.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem, Miss Star. It’ll clean right up!” Lacey said. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and quickly mopped it up.

  But Star was beyond help. Once she’d started crying, she couldn’t stop, and that’s when Lacey knew something more was going on.

  “Come sit with me,” she urged.

  “I can’t,” Star whispered. “I don’t want them to see me cry.”

  “Who? You don’t want who to see you cry?” Lacey asked.

  “The guards. They’ll tell Anton.”

  “But Mr. Baba adores you,” Lacey said. “I see the way he treats you.”

  Star shook her head.

  “Not anymore. He’s going to sell me, just like he sells the others,” she whispered and then gasped at what she’d done. “No, I didn’t mean that. I just—”

  Lacey’s heart leaped, but she kept playing along.

  “Sell you? But what about Sammy?”

  And that’s when Star’s last defenses fell, and she took a chance.

  “He’ll keep Sammy. Sammy is his son, but he’ll sell me to someone else, and I’ll never see Sammy again. Please don’t tell. Pretend you never saw me getting food. Just let me walk out of here. I have to get away before this happens. He’ll be at his club tonight. It’s the only chance I’ll have to make a run for it. I can’t lose my baby. I’d rather be dead.”

  “I’ll help you,” Lacey said.

  Star’s heart skipped a beat.

  “How?”

  “I have a friend here in the city. He’ll help.”

  Star frowned.

  “I don’t believe you. You’ll just tell Anton and then I’m done. If you do I’ll swear you lied, and believe me, I’m good at lying. I’ve been doing it for seven years without getting caught.”

  Star made a grab for the food and was about to bolt when Lacey grabbed her hand.

  “Stop,” she whispered and pulled her back into the pantry, then leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I’m with the FBI. Will you testify against him if I help you and Sammy escape?”

  Star gasped, then stared at the woman, looking for the lie on her face, but she didn’t flinch.

  “You’re serious?”

  Lacey nodded.

  “What do I do?” Star asked.

  “Be ready to run. It’ll be after dark.”

  “After Anton leaves,” Star said.

  Lacey nodded. “Go pack what you need for the baby and just be ready.”

  “Thank you,” Star murmured. “Thank you.”

  “Go,” Lacey said, and the moment the woman was out of the kitchen, she sent Ryker, her outside contact, a text.

  We have ourselves a witness who’ll testify. She’s running tonight with a toddler. Pick us up at the back gate of the property.

  She hit Send and then waited.

  Drug the kid to keep it quiet. I’ll have to disarm the alarm at the gate. I’ll text you when it’s done.

  She sent back a thumbs-up emoji and stowed the cell back in her pocket beneath the chef’s jacket and went back to prepping vegetables, but her thoughts were already locked into what she needed to do to get them off premises. She’d need to put the silencer on her weapon. There were at least three guards at all times between the house and the back of the property. She would have to take them out just to reach the gate.

  * * *

  Anton left to go to his casino just before 7:00 p.m., which was his habit. Since it was the Fourth of July, Las Vegas was packed with people on holidays. He got all the way to his office before it dawned on him that he hadn’t told Star or Sammy goodbye, and then dismissed it as of no concern. It wouldn’t be long before she would be gone, Sammy would be with a live-in nanny, and he would be giving full attention to the business of making money, again.

  An hour passed and then another before the fireworks began. He got up and walked to the windows overlooking Vegas just as a shower of fireworks spread across the sky.

  Entertainment.

  That’s what Vegas was all about.

  He was still watching when his cell phone rang. He went back to the desk to get it.

  “Hello.”

  “Boss, this is Ian. The security alarm just went off at the house. We found three guards dead in the back garden, and Star and the baby are gone.”

  Anton staggered.

  “Gone? How? Who was supposed to be watching them?”

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

  “You and Dev know how to track runaways. Star has a chip as well and doesn’t know it. Send out as many men as you need. I’m on my way home.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ian said and disconnected.

  Anton rang for his driver and then took the back way out of Lucky Joe’s. He rode home in silence, mentally going over everything Star had said and done over the past week. He couldn’t find one instance where he’d doubted he had lost control. He had enemies. It occurred to him that this might be the case, but whatever the reason, he wasn’t too worried about getting her back. All of the procurers who worked for him, including Darren Vail, had one last duty before they turned the girls over to the men who took them out of state. They shot a tiny tracking chip just under the skin on the back of every girl’s neck. It was done while they were unconscious, and they didn’t even know it was there. It’s also why no one ever got away.

  Two

  Boom!

  Fire exploded in the night sky over the alley behind Pizza Rock, momentarily revealing the trio running through it. If someone had aimed a spotlight at them they couldn’t have been more vulnerable. The car he’d picked them up in—the one he’d planned to make their getaway in—was stuck in traffic on a side street waiting for a parade to pass. Forced to abandon it so they wouldn’t get caught, they were now afoot and running toward the backup plan—a second vehicle parked a few blocks away.

  “Damn it all to hell,” Ryker muttered and tightened his grip on the gun in his hand. “Fourth of July. This had to go down in Las Vegas on the Fourth of July? Keep moving. Whatever you do, keep moving.”

  Twenty-four-year-old Star Davis was behind him with her two-year-old toddler clutched tight against her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she kept saying.

  “Hush, Star! Just run,” Lacey said and looked over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.

  Star stumbled and then screamed, thinking she and her baby were falling.

  Lacey grabbed her.

  “Stay with us, honey. It’s not much farther.”

  The baby whimpered
and then drifted back off to sleep. The medicine they’d given him earlier to keep him quiet was working, but it made Star anxious. What if they’d given him too much? What if he didn’t wake up?

  Ryker kept a continuous one-eighty sweep of the area in front of them, ready to take anyone down who got in their way while Lacey kept an eye out for who might be coming up behind them. He and his partner had been undercover too damn long to have this screw up now.

  Boom!

  The baby flinched in Star’s arms but didn’t cry.

  A stray cat hissed from behind a Dumpster, then darted off into the shadows as they ran past.

  Lacey was bringing up the rear without comment until she suddenly let out a low cry.

  “Ryker! Runners coming up on our six.”

  Ryker paused and pivoted, his heart pounding. He heard them, too.

  “Take Star and the kid and get to the Farmers Market parking lot. I’m right behind you.”

  Lacey grabbed Star’s arm.

  “We have to run now. Stay with me and don’t look back.”

  “Oh, my God,” Star moaned. “I’m—”

  “Just don’t fucking say that you’re sorry again,” Lacey said and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her closer into the shadows and lengthening their strides as Ryker darted behind a Dumpster into a crouch. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Three men were coming up the alley at a fast clip, but it was the silence they brought with them that was the tipping point for Ryker. If they had been tourists enjoying the fireworks they would have likely been drunk and noisy. Chances were more likely it was some of Baba’s hired guns. He saw them from the side as they ran past the Dumpster and knew one man on sight.

  He stood up and called out.

  “Hey! Bergman!”

  The trio turned in an orchestrated move that would have made the Cirque du Soleil proud, but Ryker was already firing.

  Pop.

  Bergman went down.

  Pop.

  Blood fanned out behind the middle man’s head before he dropped.

  Pop.

  Blood flooded the front of the shortest man’s shirt as Ryker’s last shot tore through the carotid artery in his neck.