by Vicki Hinze
“When I was seven, I was kidnapped and brought here. A man named Mr. Phen sold me, but I didn’t leave with him. I don’t know why. I tried to escape, and this little boy told Mr. Phen where I was. He caught me. It took days before I was healed enough to crawl out of bed. My buyer backed out—I was too headstrong for his tastes. He preferred his mates docile.”
Amazing, after all these years of remembering nothing, now the details returned, and they were so vivid! “Mr. Phen sold me to a new buyer in the States. A Spider was bringing me to him—I don’t know where the buyer was, I never got there. I played sick and escaped. The Spider went into a store, and I shot across the street into a dress shop. A lady there hid me.”
“So it was NINA who had you before when you were a kid?” Mark asked, pensive and tense.
“I don’t know about NINA, but Spiders were involved.” Armed men herded the women from the second truck up the road toward the house. Lisa stiffened. They’d killed her father—and she’d forgotten it. Shame washed through her. How was that possible?
Survival.
“This is what Annie hoped you wouldn’t remember.” He filled her in on Annie’s muddled conversation in the ambulance.
Half-dead, and her mother worried about her. Tears built in Lisa’s heart and lumped in her throat. “Mark, what kind of woman am I? How could I forget this? They killed my father—”
“When this happened, you weren’t a woman, you were a child.”
He wasn’t judging her. Oh, if only she could not judge herself. “I started remembering in the truck—bits and pieces that made no sense. I wasn’t sure they were even real. But then the pieces started connecting, and when I saw this place, everything came rushing back.”
“Are you okay? Do you need to get out of here? I can take you to Harvey. He’ll know what to do to help you.”
“I’m upright.” She wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t rattled. But Selene’s words came back to her as they often had when Lisa thought she’d fall apart. “We don’t have that luxury.”
It was amazing how much strength she’d found in Selene. So practical and purpose driven, she had insisted Lisa deal with whatever came and keep it in perspective. The past was past and couldn’t be changed. Did she want a future? If so, then she had to deal with the past and put it in its proper place. Otherwise, it would steal all it had and then steal her future too.
Thanks to Selene, Lisa had chosen. She would not become a victim to the past as she had become a victim to NINA, the Spiders, and Mr. Phen. “It’s a lot to process, but this is not defining my life, Mark. It’s mine, and I want it.”
Toward the center of the huddle of people, he shifted, clearly uneasy. “This kind of thing is outside my sphere of expertise, but Susan said—”
“Susan who?”
“Brandt. She left a note, and Peggy found it in your file.”
Surprise shot through Lisa. “She knew.”
He nodded. “Annie wouldn’t let anyone force you to remember. She said God would see to it in His own time.”
Lisa would have insisted on just the opposite. But the way things were working out … She’d have to think on that later. Now just wasn’t the time.
“Susan said you’d need extreme intervention to get through remembering constructively.” He paused to study her face. “You seem okay to handle this, but if you’re not, tell me and I’ll get you out.” He narrowed his eyes. “Listen to your instincts. That’s all I’m saying.”
One of the women in line stumbled. Gwen moved to help her, but Selene jerked her back. Another woman did, and a guard shoved her to the ground and planted his foot on her back.
“My gut is saying nail them.”
Pride flashed through his eyes.
“Think steel.” She hiked her chin. “Isn’t that what you, Joe, and the guys say?”
“Yes, but we’ve never been in this situation.”
But she had. “It’s good advice.” How could she reassure him? She hated that terrified-for-her look on his face. “I think I’ve already had extreme intervention. The hardships prepared me for this. So I could cope with what happened then and do what needs doing now.”
“But Susan’s note said—”
“Collect some fumes, Mark, and have faith. God’s in control.” Lisa touched his arm. “We just have to get what Roxy needs to shut these people down and lock them up. The Mexican authorities will handle the takedown. Isn’t that what Roxy said?”
“In theory, but it never works out that way. We’ll be right in the middle of it, and the takedown is always the most dangerous time.”
Lisa swept her gaze across the mansion. “The sooner it comes, the better, because I’m telling you, this place is as close to hell as exists on earth.”
“I don’t mean to beat this to death, but how can I be sure you won’t snap? Susan was explicit about the dangers—”
“I won’t snap.” Lisa leveled him with a look of fierce determination. “I told you, God has been preparing me all along. I’m not a fumes-of-faith Christian here just to serve others, and neither are you. We learn what we need so it’s there to protect us. When I was a kid, I was too little and weak to defend myself. Getting away took divine intervention. Now, I can protect myself and help protect the others. Look at me and you see extreme intervention in the form of a doctor trained in self-defense. But the Healer has given me extreme intervention my whole life.”
Mark dropped his lids, hooded his eyes. Lisa couldn’t blame him for being skeptical, but before she could say any more, men with guns formed two lines that stretched from where they were all huddled to a point toward the house beyond where she could see.
“Line up,” a man shouted. “Single file and move through the middle.”
Herded through the center between the armed men, they moved into a stone-floored courtyard. More armed men guarded its perimeter, perched on the roof. The overwhelming display of force made it clear that the women were prisoners and if they stepped out of line, they would be shot. It was a common psychological-warfare tactic, but it still had a debilitating impact.
A man walked out and stopped on the stone steps, towering above them, not seeming as large as he had the first time she’d seen him there, though he was a solid six feet and change. His hair was black, his eyes dark in the morning sun, not reflecting light. Trim and fit and tanned with broad shoulders and a thick chest, he stood clothed in a dark suit too heavy for the warm weather. He had to be sweltering, and yet he wore it for effect, down to the proverbial red tie to emanate a sense of power and authority. His message was clear. I am the master of all in my domain. I am your master.
Mark moved closer to her and whispered, “Who is that?”
Knowing the horrors the man was capable of, Lisa felt an icy hand slide from the base of her spine up over every vertebra to the base of her skull. All the nerves in her body throbbed simultaneously, pounding out warnings. “That’s Mr. Phen.”
A group of his armed minions circled the women standing clustered in the courtyard. One guard motioned Mark away, and he moved to the perimeter.
Mr. Phen motioned to the guard standing nearest him on the left. “It appears we are all here.”
“Yes sir. All present and accounted for, sir.”
Phen nodded. “Good morning. I am Mr. Phen.”
No one uttered a sound.
Seeming pleased, Phen adjusted his stance, his legs spread, his hands perched on his hips, his chin lifted to an arrogant angle. “Your situation is this. Your old lives are gone, and you will not get them back. They no longer exist. You are my property now, my shrubs. You are under my complete and total control, and your well-being, your very life, is wholly dependent on my whim, my discretion, and my goodwill. There is no escape. There is no alternative to your doing what I say when I say it. I expect you to follow my orders without hesitation and without fail. If you meet my expectations, you will live. If you do not, you will die.”
He paced the span of the ten-foot-wide steps t
hree times, then stopped and faced them again. “If you do not intend to follow my orders, please step forward to the base of the steps. We will spare ourselves and you unpleasantness and kill you now.” He smiled. “I daresay we will be more merciful in your murder here than if you are disobedient and force us to kill you inside my home.”
His torture chamber made a bullet to the head seem welcome.
Roxy slid Lisa a questioning glance, silently asking if Mr. Phen was bluster or factual.
“Believe it. He defines deviate.” Memories washed over Lisa. Memories of rooms with chains on the walls, whips, and wooden racks with huge cranks. Twisted, ugly machines. The faces of the people in them contorted in pain, their screams echoing off the walls. He’d made her watch. Made her see them beg for their lives and then beg to be allowed to die. And then he killed them.
She wept inside, crossed her arms over her chest, and wept for the innocent child she’d been, the horror she’d seen. The poor souls who had died within these ugly walls.
“You okay?” Gwen whispered.
No. No, I’m not okay. She shuddered.
“Whatever you are thinking, stop it now,” Selene whispered. “It’s over. You survived. Turn it to something good.”
She was right. Lisa imagined Mark clasping their pinkies. In her mind, she studied his huge hands, so tender and gentle. Hands that protected and nurtured. Hands that caressed her face and managed to make her feel touched in her heart.
“Better.” Selene stepped aside.
None of the women moved.
“No rebels bent on revolt?” Mr. Phen scanned the crowd, and his gaze snagged on Lisa. “Ah, Lisa Harper.” He laughed. “It’s good to have you back with me again.”
Debating on whether or not to let on she recognized him, she opted for ignorance. It had worked with Frank. “Excuse me?”
“Ah, Lisa. They say you don’t recall your previous visit to my home. Though brief, I find that impossible to believe. Is it true? Do you not remember your time with Mr. Phen?”
“I daresay that if we’d ever met, I would certainly remember it.”
He stared at her a long moment, then his tense face relaxed. “Well. More is the pity, but it’s just as well. You’re too old for me now, though I will endure and do my best to help you recall.”
An earthquake erupted inside her, so powerful and strong her entire body suffered simultaneous aftershocks and tremors. Sick. Sick. The man is the worst kind of sick.
“For now”—Phen returned his attention to the group—“you’ll be shown to your quarters. Bathe, eat, and sleep. Clothing will be brought to your rooms later today. Put it on, dress carefully—your future depends on it—and be ready to leave your room promptly at 7:30 p.m.” He turned and then looked back at them over his shoulder. “In your former world, it was acceptable to be fashionably late. It is not acceptable in mine.”
The threat in his voice was mirrored on his face. He disappeared behind heavy green foliage.
The men started ushering the women, single file, across the courtyard and into the house Lisa recalled as the Chamber of Horrors.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lisa looked at Mark, who had appeared at her side. Knowing he’d never believe her, she revised her remark. “I’m fine, I’m scared to death, and I’m praying hard.”
Mark looked reluctant to let her go, but if she didn’t move soon, the guards would notice. “It’ll be okay.”
Lisa said it and prayed she was right.
25
M ark planted his feet on the ground and his hands in his pockets to keep from yanking Lisa from the line of women entering the house.
“Roxy, you get all that?” He scanned but didn’t spot her.
“Already relayed. Wait. Someone is coming. Black sedan. Not sure of the make and model.”
He glanced toward the driveway and saw her hunkered down under some shrubs.
Juan stepped closer to Mark. “Señor, a black Lexus is coming. Masson drives such a car.”
“Probably Masson,” Mark transmitted to Roxy.
“Make yourself scarce. Surely by now he knows about you. Meet the team at the marina to finalize interception plans. Take the truck.”
“I’m not leaving Lisa.”
“You don’t have a choice. Masson can identify you. You could get her killed.”
He could. No doubt Masson could tag every member in Mark’s old team. Phen might have even been alerted, though Mark doubted NINA would disseminate that much information to him unless they knew Mark was onto them. “My men arrived yet?”
“Ten minutes out,” Joe responded.
“What about Juan?”
“He needs to stay and follow his original orders,” Roxy said. “It’s the only way we can cover for him. Now go. Masson will want to meet Bandit.”
Lisa stepped inside, and Mark lost sight of her. His stomach sank to his knees. “What do you want Juan to tell him?”
“Say Chessman phoned with an assignment and Bandit left with the truck to handle it. Meet up at Ortego’s. It’s a locals’ café, south end of the marina, away from Juan’s boat.”
Mark filled Juan in and then looked him right in the eye. “Do what you can to watch over them.”
“Sí, señor. I will try.” His eyes held his fear of failure.
Mark clasped his shoulder. “Your family is safe now. Do your best.”
“Dios willing, I will do all I am able and He will do the rest.” Juan lifted a fingertip heavenward. “This, I must believe.”
Mark headed to the truck, got in, and cranked the engine. Heat radiated off the dash. “Roxy, you read me?”
“Yeah, I’ve got you.”
“Which direction is the black sedan entering from?”
“The north.”
“I’m exiting south, then. Unless you want an interdiction?” Mark would like nothing better than to take the monster down.
“I’d love one, but it’s too soon. We have to wait for all parties to get into position.”
The buyers at the auction. Pangs of disappointment fell to resignation. Mark knew the drill, and he had been trained to be patient. Patient and persistent and determined. Masson’s time would come.
God, let it be in time to spare Lisa and the other women. I can’t live with failing a woman again. I just can’t do it.
Trust Me, Mark.
Mark stilled. He was tired, scared of failure in ways he’d seldom feared. This fear took him all the way back to his childhood, back to enduring his father’s and brother’s slurs and blame for his mother’s death. Back to that merciless, unshakable guilt that clawed at his soul every day of his youthful life. Then it was easy not to fear failure. He was worth nothing and had nothing more to lose. But now things were different. Now, he had Lisa.
Mark turned the wheel to avoid a pothole. The back right tire clipped it and the truck bounced. He had no illusions. He was flawed—on some things, a train wreck. He wasn’t worthy. He had tried to earn his way into favor, been willing to do what needed doing. But down at the bones of it, when it came to faith, he had become a Christian but still ran on scattered fumes.
He’d watched the others at Crossroads. They were the real thing. They had the real thing. Now and then, he believed he had the real thing too. Other times he doubted and craved what they had. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to earn his way to it. That special relationship with the Lord eluded him, stayed close enough to taunt him but too far away to reach. He shifted gears, adrift, isolated, alone.
Trust Me, My son.
Love flowed through, warm and welcome and consuming. God.
I am never beyond your reach and never away from you. You are Mine, and I am with you always.
Overwhelmed, Mark hit the brakes, pulled over, and stopped. God’s voice filled his mind and flooded his heart. His shock melted and an alien sense replaced it: total acceptance, a deep abiding and enduring connectedness never before experienced. And love.
Unconditional love. And in it was truth.
Unearned. Undeserved but offered.
Grace. I get it now. Mark hadn’t accepted God’s gift then. I accept it. Thank You.
Humbled and awed, he wept over the steering wheel and, bowing his head, offered a prayer of thanksgiving.
Lisa was right about this too.
Neither of them was a fumes-of-faith Christian, here only to serve and help others. They had believed it, but they were wrong.
God was with them every step of the way.
Karl parked near the rear courtyard, then made his way into it. The relentless sun radiated heat off the tile. He was hot, exhausted, and elated all at the same time. This shipment had taken a few unexpected twists and turns, but he’d pulled it off. The cargo was in place on time and intact.
He hadn’t had time to go back to Seagrove Village and dispose of Kelly Walker yet or take out Dutch—two tasks he relished seeing completed for entirely different reasons—but he had completed his mission. So long as the auction took place as scheduled, Raven wouldn’t be inconvenienced, and that was a very good thing for Karl’s long-term prospects with NINA and in life.
Considering the added challenges of Taylor’s old team, Raven might even feel generous enough to assign someone else to handle the Kelly Walker problem so Karl didn’t have to return to the village. Though it would be a personal-satisfaction perk to plant a little C4 at that stupid Crossroads Crisis Center and take out all those jerks at one time, he’d welcome Walker’s demise by any means. The Crossroads bunch needed to go. Everyone there knew far too much about NINA. Raven, no doubt, was monitoring that situation and would soon draw the same conclusion, if she hadn’t already.
Juan stood at the edge of the courtyard near a clump of spiky bushes planted in vats.
Karl walked up to him, grateful to find a little shade. “Glad you made it. Where’s Bandit?”
“Gone.” Juan seemed surprised Karl didn’t know it. “Mr. Chessman sent him somewhere. I do not know where.”
That wasn’t uncommon, though Karl would have preferred notice and to get a look at the man. “Any problems to report?”
