“I understand, and it’s undoubtedly a problem, but I still need to examine your security to ensure it’s fit for purpose. We can’t take any chances. I know you are already worried, and I don’t want to add to it, but I won’t lie to either of you.” His gaze bounces between Selena and Sandrine. “These criminals tend to target the families. Using them to force their loved ones into backing down. If we go after Lawrence, he will be gunning for Selena, and that means you are at risk. A new high-tech monitoring system connected to a private security firm is my recommendation.”
“Let Keven check out the house, Mom. Please.”
Sandrine nods. “Of course. I’ll do whatever is needed.”
“With your permission, I would like to install tracking devices on your cells, phones, and cars. I will monitor it, and I’ll also install the app on Kent’s and Keanu’s cells and computers so they have access to your whereabouts at all times.”
“Do it,” Selena says, removing her cell from her pocket and handing it to Kev. Sandrine does the same.
“Both of you too,” Kev says, opening his palm as he drills a look at Kent and me.
“I also have some security chips I’d like you to embed in your shoes and on jewelry.” He eyes Selena’s necklace. “You can add one to that, and maybe your watch, Sandrine.”
Some might think this is overkill, but I trust my brother. This isn’t his first rodeo, and I’ll do whatever he says if it keeps Selena and her mom safe.
Kev gets to work, making all that happen while Selena and I head to the kitchen to make coffee.
“Are you okay with all this?” I ask as I grab five mugs from the overhead cupboard.
“Yes.” Selena pours water into the coffee machine. “I feel safer knowing someone knows where I am all the time.”
Most people resent having bodyguards, and tracking devices, but I can understand why Selena feels comforted with the protection. And I’m glad. Because I didn’t want to fight with her about this.
I rub my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, holding Selena’s gaze as I make a suggestion. “I was also thinking maybe you should learn to use a gun.”
Her face drains of blood, and she shakes her head repeatedly. “No.”
“You need to know how to defend yourself, and—”
“I know how to defend myself, K. I’ve been attending self-defense classes since I was fifteen.”
I know that. But it’s not the same. These guys shoot first and ask questions later. I’ve no doubt if they can’t take Selena they’ll kill her. Because she’s a liability. A witness to their crimes and their depravity. Someone who can put them all away.
I walk toward her, invoking all my willpower to gently hold her to me when I want to crush her to my chest and never let her go. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I’d feel more reassured if you had a gun and you knew how to use it.”
My brothers and I all know how to handle a firearm. Dad brought us to the gun range as soon as we were old enough to learn. We’ve grown up with a spotlight on our family. Dealt with crazies and death threats and stalkers, and knowing how to use a gun is survival one-oh-one.
Faye, Cheryl, and Eva have all been kidnapped and held at gunpoint. I’m not overreacting. Being associated with me brings its own special brand of crazy. Add this very real threat to the mix, and I’d feel more assured knowing my girl can defend herself in multiple ways.
“I can’t do it, K. I saw too much violence on that island. Saw girls I’d grown close to shot at point-blank range when they tried to escape or merely because they had outgrown their usefulness.” She peers up at me with tears in her eyes. “Sometimes, they made us put on these shows, and if we didn’t perform exactly as they had scripted it, they tortured us using weapons.” A strangled cry escapes her lips as the horror of her words settles in my stomach like a dead weight. “Knives, guns, and other implements of pain,” she adds.
Her many scars resurrect in my mind’s eye, and I hold her closer, shutting my eyes as if that will ward off the pain. “I’m sorry,” I croak. “I won’t suggest it again.”
We hug it out in the kitchen until I feel her relaxing against me, and when we’re composed enough, we return to the others. They have been quietly talking while we’ve been in the kitchen. Sandrine questions me with her eyes, and I offer her a reassuring nod.
She never has to worry.
I’ve got our girl.
Always.
“All the tracking devices are in place,” Kev says, handing Selena her cell and her necklace. I put the tray of coffees down on the coffee table and slip my phone back in my pocket. “Keanu knows how to insert these in your shoes.” He passes a box of silver chips to me. “I’ll come by one night this week to install the new security system.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“And I’ll contact you to arrange a time to look at your place,” he says to Sandrine.
“Thank you very much, Keven. I appreciate everything you are doing for Selena.” Her gaze dances between me and my two brothers. “Everything you are all doing. You have my eternal gratitude.”
“So that just leaves one last thing.” Kev scrubs a hand across his prickly jawline. “I found some photos last year on a case, and I’d like you to take a look at them. If you feel up to it,” Kev adds, peering at Selena. “It’s completely fine if it’s too much.”
“What type of photos?” I ask, because there’s no way I want her looking at gruesome pics. She has enough nightmares as it is.
“Photos of girls we believe were trafficked. There are a few men in the photos too. I wanted to see if Selena recognized anyone.”
“They aren’t—”
“They’re not,” Kev reassures me before I’ve even asked my question.
“I want to see,” Selena quietly says, holding out her hand. I sit forward with her as she takes the bundle of dog-eared photos from my brother’s outstretched hand.
Her body shakes as she starts looking through them, and I place a gentle hand on her knee, reminding her she is not alone. You could hear a pin drop in the room as Selena flips through the photos, pausing to examine a few in more detail. When she’s looked at the last one, she lifts her eyes to Keven. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize anyone.” She passes them back to him, and he puts them face down on the table.
“I have one more.” He holds it up, with the back of the photo facing us so we can’t see. Kev looks at me, and goose bumps sprout on my arms.
“What?”
He pinches his lips, looking a little uncertain. “When I first discovered this photo, I couldn’t figure out why I was fascinated with it. Until I realized one of the girls looked familiar.”
Nausea swims up my throat, and blood rushes to my ears. “No,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to look at this, Selena, but I think one of the girls in this picture is…you.”
Silence engulfs the room, and tension hangs in the air like fog.
“I want to look,” Selena whispers, her voice brittle, her body shaking.
“You don’t have to do this, baby.”
She looks deep into my eyes. “I know, but I want to. I need to.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Mom asks, sharing Keanu’s concern.
She nods, and Keven hands it over.
Selena sucks in a gasp, and her hands shake as she holds the picture between trembling fingers. I look at it and stop breathing. The back of a long transport truck is wide open, and young girls are spilling out like sardines from an overturned can. Most are in skimpy dresses or dirty underwear, hair matted, sweat clinging to their overheated skin. My eyes lock onto the two girls at the front of the picture.
The girl in the wrinkled black minidress staring into the camera with long, messy dark hair and big eyes is unmistakably Selena. I would know her face anywhere, even as a child. She is tall for her age, but her face is so young. Too young. Another girl is clinging to her arm, tears trekking down her face. Rage filters through my veins, and the urge t
o hit something is riding me hard. My body locks up, stress tying me into knots.
“No!” Selena cries, her voice laced with pain, as she jumps up, the picture falling through her fingers, landing on the hardwood floor. “Oh my God. No!” Her breathing becomes labored, and tears pour down her face. “No! No! No! No!” She sways on her feet as I stand, reaching for her. Her eyes roll back in her head and her eyelids flutter closed as her limbs give way, and she tumbles to the floor.
13
Selena
I slowly come to with the sound of voices shouting in the background. Opening my eyes, I look up into the concerned gray-blue eyes of my mom. My head is on her lap, and she helps me to sit up as I watch Keanu shoving Keven, screaming in his face. Keven has his palms raised, and Kent is between them, trying to keep them at arm’s length.
“What happened?” I rasp, and Keanu stops berating his brother, spinning around on his heels and racing to crouch down in front of me.
“You fainted, sweetheart,” Mom says at the same time Keanu asks, “Are you feeling okay?”
It all comes back to me in a rush, and my stomach lurches violently. Pushing Keanu and Mom away, I scramble to my feet, hand clasped over my mouth as I race toward the kitchen sink. I make it in the nick of time, hurling my guts up as tears roll down my cheeks.
Comforting hands scrape my hair back, keeping it off my face as I throw up the dinner I so lovingly prepared. When I’ve nothing left to expel, I rinse out my mouth with water before slumping against Keanu. His arms wrap around me, keeping me upright from behind.
Sobs rip from my tortured soul and I fall apart. He turns me around, holding me to his chest, and I collapse against him, soaking his shirt with my tears. “It’s okay, baby.” He smooths a hand up and down my back. “Let it all out.”
The image plays on a loop in my head, and I squeeze my eyes closed, attempting to shut it down, but it doesn’t work. Juanita is all I see in my mind’s eye. My bestie was clinging to my arm, crying. The reel extends beyond what was in the photo, and tightness spreads across my chest. I struggle to breathe. My limbs turn limp, and my stomach churns as a stampede of butterflies invades my belly and flutters throughout my chest.
The scent of lavender wafts through the air as Keanu dabs some oil on my wrist. “Breathe, Selena.” I inhale deeply, trying to control my anxiety as Keanu performs my deep-breathing exercises with me. Focusing on him and the familiar scent keeps the torturous images at bay. For now. Gradually, the attack passes, and I slump against Keanu again, clutching my necklace, physically and mentally exhausted.
“Selena, honey.” Mom’s troubled face lines up with mine. “How can I help? Do you want to come home?”
I shake my head, holding Keanu tighter. “I want to stay here, and I just need to sleep.” It’s the only way to blot out the pain of the recollection.
“Selena,” Keven says, stepping into my line of vision, his face riddled with remorse. “I’m so sorry.”
“I think you should go,” Keanu says in a clipped tone before scooping me up into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder, clinging to him, siphoning his warmth and his support.
“Do you want me to stay?” Mom asks.
“No. I’m good,” I mumble.
“I will take care of her,” Keanu promises, and no one doubts it.
Hushed conversation takes place around me, but I zone out, only resurfacing in the real world when Keanu deposits me on the bed in his room. “I’m running you a bath,” he says before pressing a kiss to my forehead. I don’t respond, curling into a ball as I attempt to ward off the images that are now imprinted on my brain.
Keanu returns, lifting me off the bed and carrying me into the bathroom. Floral-scented steam surrounds me, its tendrils enveloping me, helping take the edge off my panic. Keanu puts my feet on the floor, and my arms drop to my sides. My body feels heavy and tired as I stand in the steam-filled bathroom, as if I’ve just run a marathon. I’m depleted, and I can’t even summon the energy to lift an arm, let alone undress.
“Do you want me to help?” he asks, and I nod, on auto-zombie mode. Slowly, he undresses me until I’m down to my panties and bra. “Are you good from here or…”
My eyes lift to his, and I silently convey what I can’t articulate.
That I need him, because I’ve lost myself.
“Are you sure?”
I manage a barely there nod.
His hands shake as he unclasps my bra, his fingers brushing my arms as he pulls the straps down, letting my bra drop to the tiled floor. An involuntary shiver skates over my flesh, but I barely feel his touch because I’m only half here. He stalls, pinning me with panicked eyes, and I know he’s terrified he’s hurt me.
“It’s okay,” I croak, managing to force the words out while staring blankly at him.
He scrutinizes my face before nodding. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he hooks his thumbs in the sides of my panties, dragging them down my legs.
I hold on to his shoulders as I step out of my panties, letting him lead me to the tub and help me in.
The warm water sloshes around my ankles, and heat creeps up my legs, unthawing me, a little bit at a time. I sit down, briefly closing my eyes and sighing in relief as warmth surrounds me on all sides. Keanu keeps his eyes down, not looking at my naked body, and my heart kick-starts as my limbs unfreeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You’re a good man, Keanu.”
His eyes meet mine. “You’re scaring me, Sel. I don’t want to leave you in here like this. You’re not going to…”
“No.” I shake my head, knowing exactly where his head has gone.
In the weeks following my escape, after I discovered my family was murdered because of me, I contemplated ending it all. Tried a couple of times. Slit my wrists the first time. Tried to overdose on my prescription meds the second time. Put Mom through hell. A stint in a psychiatric unit helped pull me out of that suicidal abyss, and I haven’t considered it again, promising myself I would fight to survive. To live.
But I didn’t stick to that promise, and I’ve only really begun fighting back these past couple years.
As shocked as I am right now, killing myself hasn’t crossed my mind. Although I understand why Keanu has expressed concern.
“Join me?” I ask, and he staggers back in shock, clutching the edge of the marble countertop.
“What?” he splutters.
“Hold me?”
He stares at me like he’s imagining I’ve suggested this. And I get it. We’ve never taken a bath together. He’s never seen me fully naked let alone held me like that. Although we have made out, and he has touched me, it never went very far because I was terrified of intimacy.
But I’m working through all that now, and in this moment, I want him in here with me. There isn’t anything sexual in my need, but it’s still a big deal for me. Because I have no fear. There is only determination. I know what I want and need, and I need this. My body needs this. And I’m letting those base instincts guide me.
This whole time, I’m staring at him, beseeching him with my eyes.
He pulls his T-shirt up over his head, revealing his ripped upper torso. “If you change your mind, at any time, you only need to say it.”
“I trust you.” And I really do. Keanu would never hurt me.
I look away as he lowers his jeans, and I scoot forward in the tub, trailing my fingers through the warm water, feeling its soothing power washing over me. The water sloshes as he steps in behind me, and I’m waiting for the panic or the terror to take control of me, but it doesn’t arrive. When he’s situated, I lean back against his warm, bare chest, resting my head on his collarbone. His hands land gently on my waist, and his touch ignites flames and fans the fire at the same time. Heating and cooling me both at once.
We don’t talk for ages. We don’t do anything except lie against one another, skin to skin, hugging and absorbing all the potent emotions swirling between us.
“The girl in the
picture, the one holding onto my arm, was my friend Juanita,” I say after a while. “You know I’ve wondered what happened to her.”
“I remember.”
“Something happened when I looked at that photo,” I explain. “A flashback of sorts.”
His entire body stiffens behind me. “What did you see?”
“I’ve always thought I didn’t know what happened after that first night, when we were separated and taken away in different cars, but that isn’t true.” I know I have blanked stuff from my mind, because Denise and I have discussed this, and as I’ve begun talking about my experiences in more detail, other things have returned to me.
But I’ve never recalled anything about Juanita.
Until now.
“That picture was taken a few days after we were abducted,” I say. “Freddie had drugged me. The last thing I remember was him shoving me in a black van, and when I woke up, I was in a seedy motel where he—”
Knots twist in my gut as I remember those early days. I remember waking up confused and dazed in a strange room. I remember my head spinning. How dry my mouth was. How I ached everywhere. I’ll never forget the abject terror and the constant pain. I don’t want to relive it, but I push through.
“He stripped me and sexually assaulted me,” I whisper, and Keanu’s arms move fully around my waist, as he hauls me closer.
“You don’t have to tell me.” I hate how his voice breaks.
“I want to,” I truthfully admit. Keanu knows the basics, but I’ve never given him many details. “I’ve spent a lot of time going over stuff with Denise, and although it’s painful, it helps me to process it.” I angle my head, looking up at him, not surprised to see tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to keep things from you, K. Unless it’s too upsetting for you.” I hate hurting him, and if the truth is too much, then I won’t tell him.
“I’ve often wondered if it was better I didn’t know too much or if it was worse because my mind has conjured up pictures of what they did to you anyway.”
Releasing Keanu Page 10
