Layers Deep (22 page)

“Not a peep
out of you,” the Elvis impersonator said to her.

I saw him
squeeze her arm until her skin whitened under his fingers. The fear
in her eyes crawled up my own skin. When we exited the elevator, we
turned in the opposite direction.

“We’re almost
there, Katie,” my thug said; except this time the hint of
compassion in his voice soothed my speeding pulse. Elvis and the
girl turned the corner, and he added, “I work for Mr. Cross.” He
then added, “Last door on your left. Go, and stay safe, Ms. Green.
I have another job I need to be at.”

“Thank
you.”

He simply
nodded and left into a different corridor.

I rushed down
the hall, almost tripping over my feet. In a hurry I removed my
heels and continued over the plush carpeting. This hotel appeared
mid-class: nothing near the top of the line. I’d imagined every
single employee here had been paid well to keep their mouth shut
about the events downstairs. Or they’d simply been threatened and
feared for their lives.

At the end of
the hall, I knocked gently on the door.

My heart
raced.

Sweat dripped
down my cleavage.

My hands
shook.

I prayed no
one would exit one of the other three elevators.

The door knob
turned, and I imagined I looked like a deer stuck in the middle of
a road, mesmerized by the headlights of an oncoming car. Was I
about to be hit?

The elevator
sounded. My gaze skidded down the hallway, then back toward the
room.

The lock
clicked and I pushed the door open. All the lights were off, and I
smelled scotch. I should have listened to my instinct that I was
safe here. But what I’d seen downstairs and the memories that
rushed back all at once of Wright touching my mother without her
permission were all too much. Then, everything happened all at
once. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me. Someone
touched my arm and I jumped up, grabbed the muscled arm, and
flipped him over my shoulder. The sound of his body hitting the
floor and a loud grumble stopped my punch as I came to hover over
him.

“Tristan?”

“Yes, it’s me,
Allie.” He squeezed the pain back, trying to cover that I’d hurt
him.

I threw myself
at the black silhouette. Everything inside my body had told me he
would be here, waiting for me. And he was, and his arms felt like
I’d just been embraced by an angel. Why did I hurt him?

“I’m sorry.” I
knelt at his side, leaning down into his arms. “You should have
told me you’d be in the room. I could have really hurt you. Are you
all right?”

“Yes, I’m
fine. I needed you afraid. Very afraid.”

Well, it
worked.

“She wasn’t
there.” I’d just noticed I was panting.

“I know,
Allie. Otherwise she’d be in this room, like we planned. Are you
okay?” He pushed himself off the floor, still groaning, and turned
on the lamp.

“Yes.” My
answer came out in a whimper.

“Come here.”
He pulled me tighter into his arms, sitting up on the floor, and
then whispered, “You’re all right now, Allie. You’re all
right.”

I remembered
the promise I’d made to myself that I would never let another woman
down when she was in need. I owed it to my mother, whom I’d already
disappointed. Yet downstairs, I’d left so many of them all alone.
That old familiar guilt returned. I held on tight, gripping
Tristan’s shirt until my fingers ached.

“Shh,” he
cooed.

My body shook
in his arms for several minutes before we moved to the couch in the
corner. I sat in his lap like a little child, leaning against his
chest, and he cradled me in his arms. The shock of what I’d seen
began to fade, but it would take a while before I found control
over myself.

“I don’t know
if I can do this again,” I sobbed into his shoulder. “All those
helpless girls...”

“Just say the
word, and you won’t have to.”

“What about
Kendra?”

“We’ll figure
out a different way.”

“No.” I shook
my head. “You said this is our only chance. I don’t want to fail
you, but these girls, these helpless women. Who’s going to save
them?”

“One at a
time, babe. One at a time. Even I don’t have the power to save them
all, or you know I would. Infiltrating this circle was tough
enough, but I do promise you, after Kendra, we’ll do everything we
can to save as many as we can.”

“Okay.” I
wiped my nose on his shirt.

He scooped me
up under my knees and carried me to the bathroom. The dim lighting
felt soothing.

“Can you
stand?” he asked.

I nodded.

Tristan set me
down as if I were made of porcelain. The sound of water pouring
into the tub and aloe smell of the bubbles comforted me. He
undressed me while I stood still, frozen in one spot. Steam began
to rise and moisten my skin. Guiding me by my elbow, he helped me
step into the tub. I couldn’t speak. Memories of what I’d seen
downstairs flashed through my mind. The disgust piled up in my
stomach, mixed with a feeling of pure helplessness. I couldn’t even
provide a little comfort to those women, just to show someone
cared, so they knew what had happened hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Instead, I had just stood there, like a victim, unable to help
them. I’d promised myself I’d never be a victim again, yet there I
was, doing absolutely nothing. My toes warmed. The cold began to
drift away from my body and I hugged my knees to my chest.

“I hate seeing
you like this.”

I didn’t say
anything. The feeling would pass; I knew it would. And it wasn’t
even about me. I couldn’t stop thinking about those poor girls,
most of whom hadn’t experienced love and sex the way a girl should.
They’d been abandoned, alone; or perhaps they were so drugged up
they couldn’t feel? No, I knew they’d felt it. In between the smell
of smoke, sweat, and even semen, I’d smelled fear and despair.

God, it hurt!
It hurt so bad inside. Like that day Wright took everything away
from us. These men were taking everything from these women.
Why?

I broke down.
I couldn’t hold them back any longer. The tears spilled like an
overflowing dam. Tristan cooed comforting words I couldn’t hear
while I sobbed. He turned off the water, soaped the sponge, knelt
at the side of the tub, and washed me without saying a word.

“Press
harder.” I blinked, the last tears dripping off my lashes. I
promised myself they were the last ones. I had no room in my soul
to cry, and could only help the girls and women if I was strong.
For them—I had to do it for them. One day I’d find a way to help
them.

The pressure
of the scrubber felt good. It didn’t hurt. A sponge is a sponge,
but I wanted to make sure every inch of my skin was washed. Somehow
everything I’d experienced tonight clung to my body. I didn’t think
I could stand another smell of cigar, not tonight. And I needed
tequila, badly.

“I can take
you home,” he said, lowering the shower head.

I leaned my
head back saying, “Not yet. I’m tired.”

He washed my
hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp. The pads of his fingers
hit the perfect pressure points. I was finally beginning to feel
like Allie Green. When he rinsed the shampoo, it was as if my
weakness washed away as well. I refocused on the task, but couldn’t
deny that emotions had drained me this evening. Tristan wrapped a
fresh towel around my hair and helped me into a robe.

I looked at
his eyes, underlined with shades of worry. For the first time
tonight I noticed the concern and fear in them. The job had taken
its toll on him as well. It was a burden he’d carried without
saying much. The nights he’d spent at his computer, the scouting,
constant interviews with hookers on the street, all in
disguise—Tristan had poured his heart and soul into finding
Kendra.

“All right.
I’m here. I won’t leave you, Allie.”

I yawned.

We lay down on
the bed. I crunched up into a fetal position, feeling his arms
around me. He pulled the duvet over us both.

“Thank you.
We’ll get her. I promise.” I closed my eyes, finally feeling some
normality tonight.

“You have
nothing to thank me for. I owe you more than my life for this.” He
scooped me in, and my back pressed to his chest.

“I’m just
doing my job.” My eyelids felt heavy. It wasn’t late, maybe nine in
the evening, but it may as well have been two, and when I woke up a
few hours later it took me a while to get my bearings.

Tristan was
snuggled against a pillow with his mouth open. I removed the towel
from my dampened hair and brushed it out. After a drink of water,
my mind was fully awake. Without making any noise, I pulled on a
pair of jeans and a waterfall blouse, took some cash, and headed
downstairs. The lobby bar was quiet, with only a couple of patrons
enjoying a late night conversation. The bartender seemed ready to
go home. His eyes were half closed.

I tapped the
bar. “Tequila. And leave the bottle please.” My reflection in the
mirror behind the bottles took me aback. Without makeup and my hair
straightened I looked so regular and felt more like the Allie Green
I knew.

“Are you
alone?” Someone sat beside me. He had a thick Spanish accent. My
stomach tightened at its familiarity.

Inside I shut
down. I’d have believed it if every single one of my organs had
stopped functioning. The initial instinct to tell him to back off
crawled into a corner. I swung back my shot of tequila, letting it
wash away my nerves. It flew through my whole body like a bullet of
adrenaline and confidence. I had no time to think or feel whether
it even burned my throat. My cell phone burned in the back pocket
of my jeans, and as much as I wanted to call Tristan, I couldn’t.
And all this happened in seconds, as I answered, “I am. Do you like
what you see?” I pushed my shoulders together. The loose fabric at
my chest flowed down in waves, revealing more of my ample
cleavage.

His clammy
hand grasped my knee.

“I like. Why
don’t you join me at the table?” He pointed to a secluded booth in
the corner of the bar, right by the entrance to the washrooms.
Someone was seated there already. The petite figure hiding in the
shaded seat trembled.

Martinez
grabbed the tequila and two shot glasses the bartender passed him.
His hand went down to my lower back, guiding me forward. More than
not liking him touching me, I hated the pressure of it, and wished
that somehow I could alert Tristan. Something about the way one of
his fingers pressed harder than the rest reminded me of a gun.

I sat down on
the window side of the booth. The green plants behind me obstructed
the street view. The girl across from me lifted her head. I gripped
my knees, clenching my fists under the table. My tequila-infused
blood sped through my veins. I had refused to hope it could be her
when I was at the bar, but now that I saw her, my luck couldn’t
have been better.

Her eyes were
empty and red; she’d been drugged. The glimmer of hope I’d seen on
her face in the photos Tristan had showed me was gone. In fact, in
none of the photos had she looked so miserable. Her life and
strength must have been abandoned a while back. She lifted her
hands onto the table. Her wrists were tied with rope, which was in
turn fastened to the table’s side leg. But even if she wanted to, I
doubted she could find the strength to move. Kendra must have lost
half her weight in the past few weeks.

I understood
now why Martinez chose this area. It was perfectly concealed, yet
had a clear view of the outside from behind the green plants. If
someone was coming in, he’d know.

“Who’s this?”
I nodded toward her.

“Just a
bitch.” He poured the tequila into the shot glasses.

“Why the
ropes?” Although I knew the answer to that, it was still the
appropriate question. Anyone else sitting in my spot would have
asked. I had to appear as a regular, curious woman.

“So she obeys.
Drink.” It wasn’t a request.

I gulped the
tequila down like water. I’d make every effort to cut down on the
shots tonight, but judging from the way Martinez gripped the
bottle, it wouldn’t be easy.

“You playing
zoo animals?” I growled like a tigress.

“Sure. I have
a cage, too.”

I didn’t doubt
that. But being locked up with this maniac was the last thing on my
mind.

“Would she
come along?” I raised my brows up and down as if I was actually
interested, when in truth, I needed to find out Kendra’s fate.

“No. She’s
waiting for her new owner.” He looked at his watch with a frown,
and then poured another round of shots. “Once she’s gone, we’ll
have time for some fun.”

Had Martinez
already sold her? Was Tristan’s intel inaccurate thinking she’d be
at the auction or had they decided last minute she’d be sold
privately. If that was the case, tonight could be the only chance I
had to help Kendra. As much as I wished Tristan were here, if I
went to get him now they could be gone before we returned. I
couldn’t take that chance. And if I pulled out my phone in front of
Martinez, he’d disappear; or worse, hurt her on the spot.

He scanned my
body as if it were already naked. The tequila in my stomach pushed
right up. I had to force it back down and keep the bile from
contracting my throat. Kendra just sat there with her head
lowered.

I pouted. “Too
bad. Three’s always a better party.”

I must have
hit a nerve. Martinez’s weary glare rested on me. What was he
thinking? Was I too pushy?

“Drink,” he
ordered again. His gaze darkened. I’d seen enough in my time at the
strip-club and as a cop to know when a man became dangerous, and in
that single moment, Martinez had changed from a scum to a bloody
murderer who’d skin me alive and leave my carcass in the desert so
the vultures could pick at my flesh until there was nothing left
but bare bone. He was just as bad as Wright, if not worse.