Alana Albertson - Invincible

Nicole Race? She’d disappeared on a family vacation a few years ago—I saw her name when I was researching Annie. Was last seen talking to a bartender at a popular tourist club in Aruba. Was finding these girls not a priority? Didn’t the FBI and CIA have intel out here? “Where is she?”

“Dead.” Her voice trembled. “She was my rock, took care of me when I first got here, hugged me after I was raped the first time, prayed with me every night that we would one day return home. This one time, we were convinced we were going to be saved. But once the months turned into years, she gave up. She O.D.’d, maybe even on purpose. If I ever get out of here, I promised her that I'd tell her family what happened to her.”

Annie brushed against my arm. I didn’t want to touch her any more than necessary to comfort her. I figured enough men over the years had fondled her. “What happened the morning you were taken?”

Her voice cracked. “Chris, uhm, my boyfriend—” she looked up at me. I nodded and she continued, “we went dancing in the cruise nightclub, got totally smashed. He got a bit jealous that I was singing on stage with the band but we didn’t fight or anything like that. We went back to the room and were so drunk—we didn’t even have sex. We just passed out on the bed. I woke up at around five and puked. I decided to get some fresh air on the balcony and watch the ship come into port. After around thirty minutes, I had an idea to take pictures of the sunrise on the deck. I didn’t want to wake Chris, so I just tiptoed past the bed and left the room. The drummer of the house band walked into my elevator. He told me he knew a spot on the ship for crew only where I could take the best pictures of the sunrise, so I went with him. Once I was up there, he knocked me out with chloroform, I think. When I woke up, I was on a ship to Aruba.”

Motherfuckers. I could feel my blood burn. But I needed to focus on the future, not the past. “Annie, this isn’t your fault. None of this. I hope you know that. Are you ever allowed outside the brothel?”

“No.” The little bit of color she had in her cheeks seemed to fade away. She wasn’t sure I could save her.

But I knew I could.

“Why’d you tell me your name?”

She stopped shaking and touched my face, tracing my beard with her fingers. Chills radiated through me. “Because you looked into my eyes and asked me. I knew you were an American. I was praying you were a Navy SEAL. I grew up in San Diego; used to watch the guys train in BUD/S on the beach in Coronado when I went to brunch at the Del with my parents.” She paused and her fingers made her way down to my neck, my arms. “Your full beard, your strong arms, your muscles, your long hair—I knew you weren’t just some typical sailor. Something about your eyes . . . sounds crazy, but I trusted you. Despite the fact that you’d just paid a hooker to give you a blowjob, I could tell that you were a good man. I’ve seen so many men and their eyes were dark, cold. Or worse, dead. But yours . . . I can’t explain it. They’re kind, but hurt, you know? For five years, I’ve held on to this fantasy that I’d be rescued. I prayed for you, I’ve dreamt of you. I just knew you were sent for me. You are my only hope.”

Whoa. That was heavy. This chick believed she willed me to save her, like some divine prophecy. I swallowed hard. This was getting intense. But I liked intense.

“You told the right man. And I’m glad you showed me your tattoo. Your parents have it plastered all over their website.”

She smirked. “To think my parents grounded me when they found out I got it. I used my fake ID and went to one of those tattoo shops in Pacific Beach. When they first saw it, they told me that I was an embarrassment to our good family name and that they were ashamed of me.”

Pretty harsh. Her parents seemed like pretentious jerks. I mean all eighteen-year-old girls experimented with their clothes, hair, makeup, piercings, tattoos. But her laughter made me smile. To think she could still find humor during her hell showed me how resilient she was. “I noticed it the second you showed it to me. I immediately thought, ‘Why would this Caribbean hooker have a tattoo of Arvid the Alien on her ankle?’”

“Well, I wasn’t sure you were paying attention to my ankle.” That made me feel like a grade-A asshole. “I figured if I did a good job,” she went on, “then maybe you would believe me.”

Was this girl serious? I expected her to be mellow, high, maybe even mental. But she was teasing me. I felt my pants get tighter and decided to change the subject.

“How many men secure this place?”

“Well Jose, who you met. And Berto also. A few other guys come around but I don’t think they’re armed.”

“I’ve taken men a thousand times more dangerous than them. Annie, I’m going to get you out of here, but I can’t do it today.” Her head started shaking but I continued. “I need to case the entire building, the surrounding area, get a car, find a safe house for you. Bring a few of my buddies. I need you to act normal. Do what they say. My ship is leaving Curaçao tonight for a mission, but I will come back for you, I promise.”

She pulled a fistful of her hair and rocked her head back on the cot. “No, please don’t leave me here. Take me with you. I know you can.” She rubbed her skin.

Hell if I was just going to lay there and watch her rock herself back and forth, like she was in some mental institute. She needed someone to comfort her, hold her, tell her that her nightmare would be over soon. I took her in my arms and flipped her on top of me. She nestled her head on my chest. “I won’t let you down, Annie. I will get you out of here and back to your family. I wish I could save you today but I can’t. My ship is heading out on a mission. I promise you that I’ll spend every moment figuring how to get you back to your family.”

Her breath quickened. “Please, Patrick. Please, take me now. I need to go home. I’m going to die here. I can’t take another day in this life. I’ll do anything you ask.”

She attempted to kiss my neck but I pulled away and sat up, holding her to my side.

“I have to leave. But I have something for you.” I rummaged through my pocket and retrieved the necklace, and placed it around her neck.

She gasped as if it was expensive jewelry, not a cheap fake gold chain with a starfish charm. I hoped if her pimps figured it had no value, she’d be more likely to be allowed to keep it.

I stroked her forehead. “Every time you look at it, know that I’m working on extracting you. You aren’t invisible—you’re invincible. I know you’re alive. I know your name. You’ve survived this long and I won’t let you down.” My pulse raced and I resisted the urge to kiss her lips. Her vulnerability was like a sword in the chest and a shot to my dick. I wanted to both protect her and fuck her and it was a combination that could get both of us killed.

Her voice cracked. “Please, take me. I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me here. I shouldn’t be here. You don’t understand—”

“I’m sorry, Annie. I have to go.”

“Patrick!” She started looking desperate, clutching me now. God, don’t freak out. Don’t give it all away! “If for some reason I never see you again, promise me you’ll tell Chris that I didn’t kill myself. And my parents that I love them.”

I firmly moved her hands off my chest. “You’ll be able to say whatever you want to your boyfriend and your parents yourself. Soon.” I never made promises I couldn’t keep. I couldn’t face her family if I couldn’t save her. Or her boyfriend. I could just imagine it—your girlfriend gave me head in a brothel but I didn’t save her. Not going to happen.