The Wrong Girl (John Taylor Book 3)

by Travis Starnes

  “I didn’t have that idea. I know my limitations, and even if everything went my way I still think there’d be only a fifty-fifty chance that I’d make it out with any of the girls alive if I tried that.”

  She gave Taylor a look, gauging if that was a backhanded brag or something else.

  “Was there anyone else who matched your description?”

  “No. But like I said, she’s unbroken so she won’t be on auction.”

  “You also said they’d consider selling her if I requested that specifically.”

  “Maybe. I’m just saying what I’ve heard. Like I said, I haven’t been through this before.”

  “I’ll have to take you with me to the auction. I don’t think they’d find it believable if I left you here on your own.”

  She shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

  “I need to get you something warmer to wear. It’s twenty degrees outside and looks like it’s going to snow again.”

  She nodded, looking out the window. Taylor reached into his bag and pulled out the rest of the money he’d stashed earlier since he would need it at the auction, which was only a few hours away. Sliding the money into his pants pocket, he rummaged around some more, coming out with a couple of T-shirts and a decent enough looking sweater. He dropped them over the arm of the chair and picked up his coat, handing it to her.

  “Wear this for now. It will look ridiculously big on you, but at least you won’t freeze to death until we find you real clothes to wear.”

  She took the long coat, which practically touched the floor as she put it on, the sleeves hanging well over her hands. She pushed them up enough, so as to at least be practical and pulled the coat around herself. It did look somewhat silly, but it was the best Taylor could think of for now.

  Since he wouldn’t have his coat, he was going to have to opt for a few T-shirts and a sweater to stay warm enough until he could get a coat for her and get his back. Pulling off the button-up shirt he had worn earlier, Taylor pulled on the various layers. Tucking his discarded clothes back into the bag, he turned to her.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” Taylor asked, finally letting his brain work past the weirdness of the whole situation and noticing how thin she was.

  She had been staring at him, another odd look on her face when he spoke. Shaking herself, she said, “I had some bread, yesterday.”

  “OK, let see if we can find you some food too,” he said. “But first, I need you to step into the bathroom again.”

  “Why?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

  “Just humor me for a minute, then we’ll go. Please.”

  She frowned but turned and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself. Taylor hopped on the bed and replaced the sat phone in the vent quickly, making sure everything was where it needed to be before he opened the door and waved her out.

  “Sorry about that. Let’s go get you some clothes and food,” Taylor said, opening the door to the room and gesturing for her to head out in front of him.

  The desk guy started to give Taylor the stink eye again as he walked into the small lobby but smoothed the expression out as soon as Taylor turned and headed toward the desk. Taylor wondered if the guy actually thought no one noticed the little looks he kept giving.

  “Is there somewhere in this town we can buy clothes? And is there somewhere to get food that won't give me food poisoning?”

  “There’s a place a few doors down, sells everything. A little down from that, across the road, is a place you can get food.”

  Taylor turned, took Kara by the elbow, and directed her out of the run-down hotel. As they stepped outside, the wind cut through the sweater and both T-shirts, making Taylor grit his teeth. He would live since they wouldn’t be outside long, but it was below freezing already, and the temperature was continuing to dip from where it had been earlier in the day.

  “While we’re out in public, at least here where someone might know the men holding the auction, you’re going to have to have the right attitude. I apologize if I come off as rude or mean to you, but we don't want them to start thinking I might be here for anything less than buying girls for a client.”

  “Don’t worry, I know what they are looking to see,” she said, her face becoming impassive.

  They walked into the small general store that sold pretty much everything you could think of. It struck Taylor that something similar could be found in similar stores across the US. The details might be different, but it would essentially be the same thing.

  Taylor found a small rack of very plain, very utilitarian clothes.

  “Find a dress to wear,” Taylor told her, letting go of her arm.

  She bobbed her head and started looking through the small group of women’s clothes.

  “Can I help you?” a small older woman asked, coming up behind Taylor.

  She had spoken to him, but her eyes kept darting to Kara. Taylor would be surprised if the people who lived here, especially those with actual businesses, would be unaware of what was going on in the warehouse just across the street. The built-up area of the town was little over a block long, and except for the warehouse, Taylor had seen no sign of industry. There were probably farms or the like scattered in the area that would come into ‘town’ from time to time for supplies. At some time in the past, the warehouse might have even been used by some sort of industry, but that was clearly in the past.

  From the looks of the inside, it hadn’t been built by the people running the auction, just repurposed by them. They’d found a small, middle of nowhere town a few short miles from the border and a direct line to the port city of St. Petersburg and made it their home. By now they were probably one of the bigger sources of cash coming into the town from the outside. They would have to buy food, and a pretty large amount of it, to feed a dozen or more girls, and that many guards. In between auctions they probably had less staff, but Taylor doubted it ever emptied out. There were also clothes, toiletries, general first aid supplies, which they probably bought locally.

  And that didn’t include the men who’d show up around the time of auctions. They were probably what kept the hotel in business, that and a place for the guards to stay since Taylor didn’t see where they would have stayed in the warehouse. He was pretty sure there were a few offices and maybe an apartment for the management guy, rooms for customers to ‘sample’ their purchases, and an area for holding and dealing with the girls. That would have left no room for all those guards to sleep.

  No, this woman knew who Taylor was pretending to be, in a general sense, and what Kara was. Which explained the looks.

  “I need some more practical clothes for her. We have to travel and what she has now wouldn’t be appropriate. Plus I would like a coat for her as well so I can get mine back.”

  “I see,” she said, and roughly pushed Kara away from the clothes.

  She glared at the old woman, but caught the reproachful expression on Taylor’s face and stepped back meekly.

  “This should fit her,” she said, handing over a plain flowery dress and thick coat.

  “Fine,” Taylor said and followed her to the front of the store, where he paid for the clothes.

  “Switch coats,” Taylor commanded, handing over the new coat to Kara.

  She did as instructed, looking almost ridiculous in her schoolgirl outfit next to the plainly average store around her. The clothes drew a frown from the old woman, but she refrained from making a comment. She did seem to have a good eye for sizes, however, and the coat she selected fit Kara well. It wasn’t fancy, but it was thick and warm.

  Gripping Kara’s elbow again, Taylor led her out of the store and crossed the empty street, crunching through the snow and slush that had started collecting. The sun was almost down, and the sky was the darkish blue color of dusk.

  The restaurant was easy to identify, but calling it a restaurant hit Taylor as quite a stretch. It was a small building with a counter in the front and an open kitchen in the back, with a
single two burner stove, a metal table, and a fridge. Taylor had seen taco trucks with more equipment in it. There was a large pot on the burner with steam spilling out of it, and the entire place smelled like a mixture of cabbage and heavy spices.

  “What?” the woman working there asked, throwing Kara the same looks the woman at the general store had.

  She was more covered up now than she had been then, with a button-up coat that actually fit her hiding all evidence of the revealing clothes she wore underneath. Despite that, this woman had clearly no doubt what Kara was, or at least, what she would have been if Taylor had been an actual customer.

  “I wanted to buy some food.”

  “I have cabbage soup; three hundred rubles each.”

  Three hundred rubles was roughly five dollars a bowl, which might not be out of place in the US but for a hole in the wall like this in the middle of a border town, it was exorbitant. Had this been a normal little town, that price would have been insane and she’d probably never sell anything. Of course, considering who her neighbors along the street where, it probably worked out for her. If he had to guess, anyone not connected to the warehouse ate at home.

  “Two,” Taylor said, putting the money on the counter.

  She scooped up the cash and paddled the stuff bubbling away in the pot into two small containers, which she handed to Taylor along with a couple of plastic spoons from a big box on the counter. Taylor picked up the food and tossed his head in the direction of the door, indicating Kara should open the door.

  They crossed back to the hotel, and Taylor was surprised to find the front desk empty. Not that he needed the annoying proprietor for anything. It was just the first time he hadn’t seen the man sitting behind the desk, and Taylor found himself surprised.

  Once in the room Taylor set the food on the table and went to pull the chair from next to the window over to the table, planning on offering it to Kara. Instead, she had already picked up one of the bowls and a spoon and was headed to sit cross-legged on the floor, her back against one of the walls. Taylor shrugged mentally and sat in the seat himself, getting his own food.

  “We have about an hour until the auction starts,” he said between bites. “So after we finish, we should get changed and go there. I don't want to wait and have her end up in one of these other guys' hands.”

  “That isn’t likely.”

  “Still,” Taylor said, giving her a look, “I’m not willing to take a chance.”

  She shook her head in wry amusement and said, “It must be nice to have wealthy parents who can send someone to save you while the rest of us have to live that life every day.”

  “I’m not going to pretend the world is fair, or it doesn’t suck. The world is what it is Kara. Yeah, rich people can pay for help that others don’t have. But, if that rich parent hadn’t paid me, where would you be now?”

  “That was just luck.”

  “So is everything.”

  The conversation dropped, and they both put more focus on their food than the overpowering cabbage soup deserved. Taylor understood where she was coming from, and knew the amusement was a front. He had no doubt that deep inside Kara was an extremely angry young woman, considering the life she’d been dealt. But Taylor was a firm believer that platitudes and pretending things weren’t the way they were was worthless. At best, it would come off as insincere, and at worst it would be pandering.

  “So what’s this girl's deal?” Kara eventually asked.

  “Most of it is pretty normal, at least for some parts of society. Spoiled rich girl doesn't want to listen to her parents or anyone else, always out partying and acting wild. She’d become estranged from her family and seemed like an easy picking for some of the people she’d made friends with. One of those people had connections to a ring of kidnappers and saw her as a ticket out of debt.”

  “She got what she deserved, stupid cow.”

  “No one deserves to be sold into this.”

  She didn't respond, looking into the bowl gripped in her hands.

  “How did you . . .” Taylor started to ask, then let his voice fall off. He was curious but also didn’t think he’d like the story.

  “My parents,” she said softly after a moment. “We lived in Moscow, and my father was a factory worker. They apparently had never heard of condoms, and I was the seventh child of nine and the youngest girl. My father lost his job, and things started to get really bad. Then, one day, he came home with someone he said he knew from work and said I needed to go with the man, for a while. That man turned out to own a whorehouse in one of the nicer areas of Moscow.”

  “Your father sold you?” Taylor asked incredulously.

  “He saw a way to get rid of one mouth to feed and make money at the same time. And it’s not like he didn’t have more. I always wondered if any of my other sisters . . .” she started to say then her voice fell off. “Anyway, they were older than me, so maybe not.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Almost seven.”

  “Shit,” Taylor said, not believing someone could do that to their child.

  “Like you said, the world isn’t fair. I found out he’d lost his job at the factory, and we were looking at being out on the street. I heard about this other guy who lost his job and killed all his kids, so maybe it could have been worse. Maybe not, though.”

  “Did you ever see your family again?”

  “No. I wasn’t in Moscow for very long. After I lost my novelty of being . . . new, I was sold. After that, I was sold every few years, and haven’t been back to Moscow since then.”

  “Once this is over, and you get your life back, do you want to? Go back and see them I mean.”

  “No. None of them fought to keep me from being taken away. I don’t want to have anything to do with those people.”

  “There’s a chance your father lied to them, and they don’t know what actually happened to you.”

  “Maybe, but my mother at least should have wondered where the extra money had come from.”

  “People lie to themselves when things are bad.”

  “And look where that lie got me.”

  Taylor met her eyes and was the first to look away. He understood little of her life, or at least the captivity aspects, but having that kind of betrayal by your family, especially at such a young age, was unimaginable. Sure, he’d felt betrayed by Clair when he’d moved on, but he didn't blame her. She’d thought he’d been dead and even then, she waited a full year before she’d started dating again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “Sympathy is not pity,” Taylor said defensively.

  “Whatever. So what’s the deal with all those scars?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Huh?”

  “When you changed shirts before, I saw all the scars. Were you in an accident?”

  “No, I was a soldier and was captured by some men who hated Americans. The scars are from my time with them.”

  “You were a prisoner?”

  “Sort of, but not in a prison. They mostly kept me in caves and sometimes in houses.”

  “And they did that?”

  “Most of it, yes.”

  “Is it the same on the front?”

  “Yes,” he said, but didn’t move to prove his words.

  She looked at him, considering him with an expression of contemplation. She held that for another minute then tilted her bowl up, downing the last of the contents.

  Standing, she stretched then picked up the clothes he had dropped on the bed when they’d first come back to the room. Holding it up, she looked at it for a moment before setting it down and reaching for the buttons on her shirt.

  “No,” Taylor said, and pointed to the bathroom.

  She shrugged, scooped up the dress and headed inside to change. Taylor changed shirts back into what he’d worn on his first trip to the warehouse and reclaimed his coat. As he was putting the envelope of cash into the pocket of t
he jacket, she made her way out of the bathroom, wearing the plain, gray dress. It wasn’t flattering, although her red hair and the freckles on her porcelain skin would have made it hard for any clothing to make her seem plain. It was, however, much less ridiculous than the previous outfit, which she tossed on the bed.

  Taylor held out her coat, causing her to give him a slight smile as she slid into the garment then buttoned it up.

  “I guess we’re ready,” Taylor said, more to himself than her.

  “Do you think this is going to work?”

  “Honestly, no, not really. But it’s all I have at the moment. Don't worry, even if it’s a bust, I’ll still make sure you get your money.”