Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Beauty (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros. Book 5)

by MJ Nightingale

  But, the international group was evil as well. It consisted of members of terrorist organizations making a quick buck by kidnapping young homeless kids off the street and selling them into slavery without batting an eye. They poured their ill-gotten gains into their sick twisted operations that wreaked havoc on unsuspecting civilians in nations all over the world that didn’t accept their manifestos. He was more than happy to be a part of cutting their revenue to prevent them from making their dirty bombs, but having these victims go unprotected for so long did not sit well with him.

  The greater good. That had been his nightly mantra as he listened in on his surveillance equipment. One of his co-workers, and his immediate superior, had told him that on more than one occasion. His name had been had been Patrick Stoker. He would tell Tex whenever he got down about it, ‘Just remember, what we do is often for the greater good.’ Tex often wondered if he kept repeating that more for himself than anyone else. He saw his face when it was his turn to listen in on the rooms.

  The Makas and the international group of kidnappers were monsters. These animals kidnapped these girls, brought them to the United States, and then sold their bodies for an hour’s worth of pleasure at a time up to eight times an evening. And for the girls it hadn’t been that. It hadn’t been pleasure. Those nights had been filled with rutting men, girls, or boys crying out in pain on occasion, but mostly there had been silence from them, or the fake sounds of pleasure some of the men required and needed for them to make in order to get off. And he had heard it all.

  Even on his evenings off, without his wire still in his ear, he heard those cries coming from the many rooms in the Virginia and Maryland locations, and those cries never left him. But the silence haunted him too. Cat’s room had been the most silent of them all. Rarely did she cry out. Rarely did she communicate with the men who came and went into her room. And that silence to him had spoken volumes. To him it meant they were too late to save her. Too late to make a difference in her life. The damage had been done. It would scar her forever. Of that he had been sure.

  After leaving the FBI, he joined the Navy SEALs. When he had done two tours in Iraq, sometimes the quiet nights there made him think of her. It made him wonder who was being hurt during the quiet times. Who was being hurt while no one came? Whose silent cries were going unanswered? It had practically killed him when Melody had gone silent on him on the computer two years ago. He knew more than anyone that silence sometimes meant more pain, more horror than loud noises and wails ever could. And that was because of Cat. Her silence. Even in the rescue, when the orders finally came and they were allowed to go into those building and rescue those girls, even then Cat remained silent. She hadn’t said a word. She’d just willingly gone wordlessly with the men in black suits. He had taken her arm and pulled her along to the waiting van himself. And she hadn’t said a word or cried out as the others had whether in fear or relief. And her silence haunted him when he was overseas, and when he couldn’t sleep at night. Her eyes, when he helped her into the van had been blank, not even a flicker of emotion. Only when he’d told her, “You’re safe now,” had there been a flicker in those big round grey eyes. But quickly she had masked her emotion, or whatever it was he’d seen briefly in them. She’d murmured her thanks, and then looked away into the recesses of the van where the others cried and slumped into each other, holding each other and expressing relief that their long nightmare was finally over. But not her. Her back against the wall, she sat ramrod straight, a mask across her face. He’d shut the door, and tapped on the back letting the driver know it was clear for him to move out. He then approached his own vehicle and followed the van to their next destination.

  That memory burned itself into his brain over the next two weeks. Her dead grey eyes never left him. He didn’t know it then, but he knew it now. While following that van with those victims in it, he’d made his choice. It took him two weeks to work up the nerve to tell his parents. Once the trial was over, he’d be moving on. His parents simply nodded their understanding. He’d seen the pride and respect in their eyes. That made the decision much easier. And when the trial concluded he’d given his notice and signed up with the Navy. He hadn’t regretted a decision since. Being a SEAL to him meant action. No more waiting. No letting people down. When you get the mission, you charged in and saved the day. Being a SEAL brought him back from a very dark place. A place where he felt groundless and as though what he did didn’t make a difference anyhow.

  How was he going to explain all that to Melody? His guilt over allowing all those people to be victimized while he listened in like some peeping Tom. It disgusted him still. He pushed his now longish hair out of his eyes. He needed to get it cut, but Melody liked it that way.

  The shore was quickly approaching and he eased up on the gas of the boat slowing down the craft and decreasing the wake. He was approaching the no wake zone and he began to steer the boat in the direction of the seaside restaurant. Despite his memories, his stomach was growling. He had worked up an appetite this morning. But he knew even food wouldn’t deter his wife’s questions. And she would have many. What would he tell her? What should he tell her?

  All of it. Of course. But how? Seeing Cat again after all this time surely meant something. She had changed his life then. Well . . .the direction of it at least. He knew as soon as he was home again he would be hopping on his computer and doing a little digging. He wanted to know what had become of her life. He tried not to think about that before. He had been so sure she would not do well. Not recover. But seeing her, with a man, pregnant, well, he knew their lives had to cross once more for a reason. And he knew he had to make sure she was no longer a victim. It was the least he could do for her. The good news was she didn’t seem to be, from what he had seen, but he had to know for sure. He owed it to her. Hell, he owed it to himself to know what had become of her.

  Twelve years ago, he’d been sure she would never be able to get past her experiences. When he pulled her into the van, her eyes were so incredibly lifeless. The only words she spoke was when he gave her his hand to help her into the van, and as she slipped her cold hand out of his, he heard a clear feminine, “Thank you.” There was no emotion in it. No relief. He followed the van to the hospital where the victims were initially taken. He watched as she climbed out unassisted while listening to the female agent explain what they were doing and where they were. The moment her feet had hit the pavement at the private hospital he watched her as she listened, yet made no eye contact with anyone. Her eyes were still so bleak. He would never forget those eyes as she turned and with the flick of her hand tossed her dark hair over her shoulders and followed the other women into the hospital. That had been the last he’d seen her until her court appearance a few months later. But her eyes still haunted him. She was the one. The one he couldn’t save.

  After the trial was over, and all of the rescued victims testified against their captors, he couldn’t deal with the protocol anymore. Leaving his new career had been the best thing he could do for himself. His parents continued to show their support when he’d announced his decision to join the Navy and train to be a SEAL. He was ready for action. He needed it. He needed to feel that what he was doing meant something. He was a man who wanted to take a stand. He didn’t want to be the man who let little girls and boys get raped on his watch. Not anymore.

  And now Melody wanted to know all about that. She was his wife. His soul mate. She, more than anyone, had a right to know the kind of man he had been.

  Chapter 4

  12 years earlier . . .

  MUFFLED MOANS CAME in through the ear piece. Tex tapped on the keyboard in front of him, and glanced at the monitor to see which one of the rooms he was listening in on now, while transcribing what he heard. He fiddled with a nob on his right and then the moaning stopped.

  Now he heard cries, soft cries interspersed with grunts. Shaking his head morosely, Tex fiddled with the nob again. In this room, he heard nothing but silence. Either the young gi
rl who occupied that room had no client at the moment or she had left the room to go wash up in between clients. Usually the men were brought up stairs after being directed by whichever handler was on duty that evening. The women were given just fifteen minutes to rest, wash up between clients. Tex hated the night shifts. They were the worst. But it was necessary. The girls and boys in these locations needed to be kept safe; they never knew when the owners would show up and they could get information. Even though it was usually during the day that they got their best information, he was here. Again. And he had his job to do.

  Tex didn’t turn the dial to the other two rooms just yet in this Maryland bordello, flop house, whatever the hell the Greek man who ran it was calling it now. He wanted to be sure the young girl who occupied this room was okay. She was so young. Tex strained to hear something from Cat’s room. Anything to let him know she was all right. The other four women were suffering. That he knew. They cried at night. Or raged quietly vowing revenge, and sometimes they snuck into each other’s rooms in the early hours of the morning and commiserated about their evening usually congregating in Susan’s room. But not Cat. She was the loner. Rarely did she communicate with the other girls. Well, not on his watch anyhow. And if she did it was of no significance. The only times he’d heard her speak for any length of time was to the men who visited her room. And even then her voice never gave anything away.

  At just twenty-five himself, the case was killing him. He had signed up for this because he thought he’d be helping people. And he was, but this case, even more than the two he’d worked on before, turned his stomach. He was beginning to doubt that he was cut out for this type of detail. Gathering Intel was fine and well, but he hadn’t been prepared to wait months to act on it. For the past three months, he’d listened to the girls get raped, whipped, and perform sexual acts no human being should have to. To him it was rape even though the women didn’t say no on tape. They were kidnapped victims after all. That meant they were there against their will. All for the pleasure of some very sick twisted man’s fantasy. It was so wrong, and not how he pictured his career in the FBI. It sickened him.

  He heard a door open and then close. No words were spoken. He heard the woman assigned to the room sit down heavily on the bed as evidenced by the creaking box spring. The sheets had been changed before she left and dumped in the dumb waiter in the hall that went directly to the basement and the laundry in this two story colonial. Tex didn’t have much longer to wait. There was a soft rap on the door before a man entered the room.

  “Hello Cat,” came the gruff voice from the doorway. It must be a return customer, Tex thought. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. He glanced down at the notes Patrick had left when his shift ended. Saw the notation he made about a certain politician.

  His suspicion was confirmed when she answered. “Hello Mr. Jenkins.” The young woman’s reply was stated softly but devoid of emotion. She was either well-trained or completely and utterly hopeless as Tex and many of the other agents feared when they’d discussed her. They had dug up her history, and it wasn’t a pretty one. This young woman, nearly eighteen had been a slave for close to seven years as far as they could tell. It was practically the only life she knew. And God knows what her life had been like before that.

  “Cat, I’m in a bit of a hurry tonight. I’d like to take you from behind. Please be as tight as you can for me. And wear the baseball cap with the hair tucked inside.” The man’s voice was a high pitched whine. He sounded almost desperate and Tex could tell just by his breathing he was a heavy man. He sounded like he was out of breath as she removed his clothes.

  “Yes, sir,” came Cat’s quick retort. He heard her move to the bed while the man finished removing his clothes. Mr. Jenkins was the name he used when he visited one of the five bordellos in the area run by Demetrius Makas. But in Washington he went by the name of Congressmen Klosterman, an in the closet, but very much married right wing conservative. He visited Cat once a week, and liked them young, and usually male. He also visited one other location on Virginia Beach frequenting Hamid, a young Iranian boy who was quite popular with the Washington crowd. Tex shook his head in shame. He didn’t understand some people’s sick and twisted desires.

  He hated the assignment. Yet, he also agreed with his superiors. Patrick Stoker, his immediate supervisor, kept reminding him of the importance in getting to the top of the chain in this sex scandal, or the ring leaders would just kidnap others and start their nefarious business from scratch once more. But meanwhile there were forty victims within a twenty-five mile radius that he knew of, aged sixteen to thirty, who were being abused nightly. Hell, hourly. With him listening every night. He was only allowed to interfere if it looked like someone would be killed. And then he had to go in as a pretend John, or drug addict and try to end the situation without blowing the entire undercover operation.

  Tex couldn’t take the sounds coming from Cat’s room any longer. She was grunting, not because Jenkins was hurting her, but because he liked it when she made noises while he took her from behind. She was doing it to please him as was expected of her by her handlers. If she didn’t please the clients, she’d pay for it the next day. The sounds of him slapping against her were too much. Tex changed the dial and listened in on Donna’s room, a nineteen year old from Spain, then Lucia from Greece. Donna’s room was silent. Lucia was changing her sheets and humming softly in her task.

  And then he started over again. Listening in on Geoff, the young Irish kid; he was twenty-three but was passed off as younger by the handlers. Then there was Jani, the Russian girl who was the oldest at this facility at twenty-seven. All was quiet in Susan’s room, a young woman still shrouded in mystery and whom they had yet to identify. Then it was back to Cat, just seventeen. Listening in on her once more, he realized she was changing her sheets getting ready for the next client to come up the stairs. Yes, the job was making him lose his faith; his feeling that he was doing something important was beginning to fade.

  His fist hit the wall beside his computer screen. He just didn’t know how much more of this he could take and be able to live with himself. It was just too damn much.

  Tex woke up from his nightmare sweating profusely. His heart and mind were racing. It took a moment for him to get his bearings and realize where he was. Melody was beside him, beginning to sit up. He hadn’t dreamt about that in a long time. A very long time though the guilt crept in every now and then, like whenever he’d see a young girl with dark hair. Like when he’d first seen Akilah, his now adopted daughter. He felt Melody’s soft hand stroke his chest affectionately. Turning onto his side, he pulled her into his arms regretting that he woke her up.

  “You were dreaming about her?” It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered her anyway.

  “Yes. Her. All of them.” He’d told her everything over lunch. Well, the gist of it. She hadn’t needed to hear all the gory details, the things he’d heard while doing his surveillance. It was enough for her to surmise what happened in those kinds of places. He’d hated telling her about that part of his life. But like he’d known, she’d completely understood.

  “I guess seeing her again brought it all back. The fear. The worry. The guilt.” He sighed as her arm tightened around his chest.

  Melody hated that his guilt still ate at him. “Love, you were doing what you were told. And from what I’ve seen, you helped a lot of girls since then. And even though you feel guilty, can you imagine how many other victims there might have been had you not gotten the ring leaders?”

  Tex kissed the top of her head. Her disheveled blond locks looked well-loved and he sank his hand into her thick mass of hair, just loving its feel and texture. He loved her hair. And he knew her words were true. His work with the FBI had prevented countless others from becoming victims by capturing the leaders, the rounders and kidnappers in Europe, the Iraqi and Greek organizers, the men who bought and sold the girls on the black market and those who arranged for their illeg
al transportation and helped to smuggle them into the United States with fake identification. It had been a huge coup for them all. A grand success for their service records. But he still questioned if it was worth it. The over forty victims he eavesdropped on in the middle of the night had to suffer long months before the rest of the investigation had fallen into place. And that had been something he hadn’t been able to deal with. It was why after the trial, and with just a year under his belt with the FBI he’d asked to be allowed to sign up with the SEALs. He needed the immediacy of rescue to heal his wounded soul. He needed a job with a purpose in which the result could be more immediately satisfying if all went according to plan.

  Luckily, his superiors had understood, and they had known his technical skills learned in college and with them would be put to good use with the government anyhow. It would just be in another capacity. Two weeks following the grand jury trial, he was in California training with a newly created elite team. And those men became his brothers. He fought with them, beside them, and although he’d come home missing a leg after his second tour, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Those years repaired his soul, and made him almost whole again. It was Melody who repaired the rest. His gift.

  “I know. My mind tells me that, darlin’, but my heart just doesn’t want to buy it.”

  Melody listened to his heart as she lay across him her legs entwined around his leg. She felt his fingers in her hair trying to sort her unruly curls. But the beat of his heart still gave away his unease. “Why? I mean, now it should be easier. You’ve seen her. She seemed happy up there on that balcony. She didn’t look like she was there against her will.”

  He sighed. Her words were true. But how could he be sure? How could he know his waiting hadn’t harmed her more? “I know. And you are probably right,” he admitted. “But it’s all the years in between, Mel.” He sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. I guess it was her eyes. When we rescued her. They were void. You know like. . .dead eyes. The other girls cried, laughed, thanked us profusely, but not her. I was there when her hostel was taken, and I helped lead her to the waiting vans. Her eyes haunted me for so long and there was nothing in them.”