Page 10 of Saint
“You’re lying,” I chanced, unwilling to accept such a horrific possibility.
Wordlessly, the camera was shoved into my hands as he maintained eye contact and brushed his tongue over his bottom lip.
“To what end would dishonesty serve me?”
My gaze trained down to the professional camera that was given to me. I scrolled through the camera’s memory card, skirting past a few photos of the pink beach we’d recently departed from. Further into the images were pictures of Javier standing near the cargo hold of the plane I was recently on. The initial photo seemed innocent enough, but then more images revealed that the plane’s lower deck – where the cargo was kept – was being used as a holding space for women.
Dozens of women stood outside the aircraft in a line, many mirroring the same frightened look I once housed for the man sitting beside me. As I continued scrolling, I noticed Javier in other photos near shipping containers. Zoomed-in images of the containers revealed women in those boxes as well. Not just a handful, but they were jam-packed inside the shipping containers, all wearing a somber, frightened, and terrified look. Some of them were extremely young and dressed in next to nothing.
My face dipped into a look of horror mirroring the faces of those innocents. A wave of nausea held me captive once I reached the end of the memory card’s contents. Pushing the camera back into Ange’s hand, I palmed my belly helplessly, seeking to calm the abhorrence. Before I could offload my stomach’s contents onto the floor before me, a small ice bucket was shoved into my lap.
I couldn’t believe I’d almost been intimate with a man who was capable of such repugnant acts. My disgust presented as I threw up what little I had in my stomach. Once my belly was emptied, I rose and paused when I met Saint’s questioning glare.
“I… I need to go to the restroom,” I announced, my voice breaking unauthorized.
Wordlessly, he stood and permitted me to slide past him without delay. In the restroom, I rinsed my mouth thoroughly and washed my face before patting it dry. In the mirror, I gazed back at my reflection.
Sex-trafficker.
How the hell did I miss that?
Internally, I berated myself for ignoring my better judgment. All the signs were there. Javier’s obstinate requests to get me out of the country, his eerie desire to separate me from my family and friends, his frequent promises to look out for me as if I was incapable of doing so for myself…
Of course, anyone could have displayed those behaviors and been harmless, but my gut provided direction well before I was aware of the final destination. Willful ignorance triumphed in favor of being involved with whom I thought was a nice man. The signs had always been present for me to see. Even down to the women in the main cabin. They’d all been in the presence of other men. Their escorts.
My God.
I, too, was being escorted. The reality of my ignorance and naivety weighed on me like a ton of bricks. Immediately, I felt sick again, dry-heaving into the sink. And when nothing came up my throat, fat tears struck my face instead.
But I was not the type of woman to wallow in self-pity or live in sadness. My mother and father raised me to be strong in the face of adversity. So, with a fierceness, I swiped away at the wetness staining my cheeks. I sniffed away the dampness from my nose. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I placed my hand against the doorknob to exit but hesitated.
Beyond the jet’s hum and the ambient acoustics stemming from the airflow and engines, I heard chatter from the two men who’d captured me.
“–Make her an offer she can’t refuse,” the man named Ange chuckled.
“I’d love to see this shit, Saint,” the second man toyed.
Saint. That was his name, so Ange was merely an alias. Curiosity struck me about my captors, leading me to ponder their identity and whether they meant me well. Confidence threaded my thoughts as I reassured myself that they had to have meant me better than Javier.
“Aye.”
The sound of a voice paired with the knock against the bathroom door jarred my musings. With a steady breath, I opened the door to find the other man, whose name I didn’t know, standing in front of me.
“You aight, love?”
I nodded and averted my gaze. He was far too striking on the eyes. They both were. He stepped away from the door’s opening, and I brushed past him to return to my seat. Indonesia was a mere blip on the map compared to the view from my window. The three-day long trip I’d anticipated had come to a brisk end before it even began.
Shifting from my gaze, I looked at the man named Saint who sat beside me. When I first saw him on the beach, he bore the look of nightmares– scowling, menacing, and deadly. Now, I simply saw a man. Smooth, deep umber paired with a rose undertone gave him the appearance of someone favored by the sun.
His cologne was clean and inviting, but he also smelled like the sea—not in a fishy sort of way– more like coconut, salt, and sand. I must have lost every last marble in my possession because it was strangely appealing, causing me to study his appearance with deep scrutiny.
Though slim, his body housed stark, angular muscles. A flat, wide nose succeeded deep-set chestnut rounds. A chiseled jawline was sheathed in a lengthy but well-groomed beard. Heavy brows proceeded enviable lengthy lashes. The small hoop earring informed me he cared about his appearance. The man was inexorably handsome. Far too handsome to be a damn kidnapper. Way too fine to be a murderer.
What the hell was wrong with me?
He’d killed Javier. And here I was, rating him from crown to toe. The thought left me wondering if this is what Stockholm syndrome felt like.
“What size shoe do you wear?” He asked, turning in my direction and promptly terminating my visual inspection.