Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

“Eighteen months after I became an agent, Charlie told me we were going undercover in Costa Rica. The INS wanted two agents to go in to gather intelligence on a human trafficking ring. Both Charlie and I spoke Spanish fluently, and I knew dozens of dialects. All those years living in remote villages, I learned to pick up languages easily. I was excited. This was my first real chance to do something bigger and more important than border patrol.

“What I didn’t know was that Charlie had no sanction from the INS. He told them he was taking a vacation. I learned later that he told people that he and I were involved and wanted to take a vacation together.” She shook her head. It still angered her how manipulative Charlie had been, and how readily she’d believed him.

“So we were in this bar and I thought we had backup. I was a waitress, and I took great notes. Every night I wrote down names, numbers, towns, destinations, everything I overheard.

“Ten days later, the bar was closing and I was waiting for Charlie to walk me back to the room we’d rented. He didn’t show, and my boss in the bar was an asshole. He kicked me out, though it was late and the neighborhood was dicey. Still, I was young and stupid. I had no gun, no identification because Charlie told me that would be a giveaway. He gave me a can of mace and with that in hand, I started walking.

“I was grabbed by a meaty thug not twenty feet from the bar entrance. I maced the guy, then someone else grabbed me from behind, and the next thing I know, I’m in a truck, and we’re moving. And there are dozens of girls with me.”

“Where was Charlie?”

Sonia closed her eyes. “I didn’t know it then, but he’d hidden in the alley and watched the whole thing. I overheard the men saying my brother had sold me to them, that I was a virgin and worth a lot of money. I didn’t believe them. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

“No one came to rescue me. We were heading south, toward Panama. I thought Charlie was following. He was, but not to save me. He was mapping the route because two months before, a dozen girls from a Costa Rican orphanage had been kidnapped and he didn’t know where they were taken, but he knew which ring sold them. He’d sold me into that ring, hoping they’d lead him to the orphans.”

“He sold you and didn’t tell you his plan?”

She shook her head. “I was stupid.”

“No. You were following orders. You were young and you believed your senior agent.”

“Maybe, but in hindsight I should have seen it. Don’t tell anyone, it’s classified, yada yada.”

“Sonia, don’t blame yourself for the crimes of Charlie Cammarata,” Dean said firmly.

“I don’t. But I do blame myself for being blinded by someone I trusted and considered a mentor and a friend.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on yourself.”

Maybe Dean was right, but she’d never forget how stupid and terrified she felt when she realized she was once again a prisoner. She continued. “Two nights later, they took us to a farm outside Ustupo. That’s when they branded us. All of us. Two, three, or four stars depending on our destination. I learned later that three stars was for a brothel on an island off the coast of Venezuela. Two stars was for a slave-labor camp in Brazil, and four stars was for domestic servants-indentured servants-for some wealthy families in Chile. They like to split the groups up because there’s less chance of us bonding and trying to escape if we don’t know who we’ll be with.

“But because I was a virgin, I had a detour. I was separated from the girls after we were branded and sent to a small town outside Panama City, where I was put up in a crumbling motel and told to wait for the man who would, and I quote, ‘fuck me good.’

“And you know what? I was scared shitless, but even though I was terrified, I still thought okay, this is what Charlie is waiting for, to arrest this guy. I’m the bait. I wish he’d told me, but it’s okay because I knew where all those girls were going, and as soon as Charlie came in and took out this guy, we’d rescue the girls. A little scar on my arm was a small price to pay. I already had so many, one more wouldn’t matter.”

Sonia didn’t realize she was crying until the tears dripped off her chin. She looked down and squeezed her eyes shut. “The guy came in. He looked at me and said that I was too old to be a virgin. He was enraged, thought he’d been cheated. I found out later he’d paid two thousand American dollars for a virgin. He would have paid five thousand if I was under sixteen. Bastard.”

“Sonia-”

She put up her hand to stop Dean from talking. She wouldn’t be able to get it out if he tried to soothe her or tell her it wasn’t her fault. “He thought I was nineteen, though I was twenty-four. It happened so fast … He tore the dress I’d been ordered to wear. And that’s when I knew I was on my own.”

“He didn’t-”

“No. He didn’t rape me. He tried.” Tried was an understatement. She had run around the room, had screamed her head off, but no one came. She’d tried for the door, but he’d stopped her. She hit him, kicked him, and he used her as a punching bag. He told her to lie down and spread for him. It was humiliating and disgusting and she would have rather died than let him touch her, let alone rape her.

She said softly, “I killed him.”

Dean clutched both of her hands in his. “How?”

“I had five minutes alone in the room before he came in. There wasn’t a private bathroom, just a sink with a small mirror on the wall above it. I removed it, hoped no one would notice, and cracked it in several pieces. I hid the shards in strategic places.” Her voice hitched. This was harder than she’d thought. “I never told Riley this. I told him the big-picture stuff, but never … never how close he came.

“He had me on the bed and I pretended to accept my fate.”

She’d never forget his hands on her, his foul, fishy breath, his crudity. He’d promised to teach her how to be a good whore, after he made her one.

“And when he didn’t expect it, I took one of those hidden shards and stabbed him in the neck.”

There’d been so much blood. It spurted-she’d hit a major artery. He was dead in minutes.

“I didn’t know what to do. I ran, tried to find help, but I was so sick. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I collapsed and was taken to the hospital. I needed surgery because he’d beaten me pretty badly and there was internal bleeding. It was a small hospital, and they removed my uterus. I don’t know, if I’d been in the U.S., if it could have been saved or not. I’ll never know.”

She looked at Dean for the first time since she envisioned herself back in that awful room. He had moved closer to her, his hands entwined tightly with hers. He brought them to his lips and held them there, his eyes red with suppressed emotion.

“As soon as I was out of surgery and conscious, they arrested me for murder. Forget the phone calls, I’d apparently killed someone of importance. I found out later he was a popular local politician and the father of nineteen kids.”

“What did they say when you told them you were a U.S. Immigration cop?”

“At first, they didn’t believe me. This town had their own law. Conditions in their jail weren’t-stellar.” She’d killed Sheldon Rasmussen, a man with a wife and kids. She paid the price. “They didn’t believe that I’d been kidnapped. One of the cops convinced others that I was an assassin. Rasmussen was a criminal, but he provided for the town. His own mini kingdom. Then, I think they did finally believe me, but were scared of possible repercussions. It would have been easier to make me disappear than to face the U.S.’s wrath. The fact that no one came around asking about me made my ‘story’ less believable.”