Page 39 of Hostile Witness
“Yes. Your five women are in a produce truck inside. They have red numbers on their backs. Leave the rest of my pretty merchandise alone. Someone comes to take care of them twice a day.”
Ethan’s stomach clenched at Romanov’s words. Women and children weren’t merchandise to be stored in a dank truck in a warehouse. What kind of human being did such things to people, women no less? He glanced at Romanov’s face and it was a mask of stone.
Gus tapped Ethan’s arm. “Go get our women. I’ll watch him.”
He stepped into the cool night air laced with fumes and breathed deeply. Mac’s van hurried from the access road to the warehouse door. It only took a minute and a pair of bolt cutters to gain access to the building and the fruit truck. Mac notified the barrage of Feds, local law enforcement, and medical personnel waiting nearby to take control of the scene.
A few minutes later, Gus stepped out of the limo, turning Romanov over to the FBI.
Romanov’s mouth started hurling accusations. “You killed my employee, you bastard. I’ll tell them everything.”
Ethan snickered. “Go right ahead.” Of course, the Feds already knew that he had staged Lana’s supposed execution to extract her from Romanov’s organization.
Several ambulances pulled in. Two doctors jogged by with medical bags. One of them yelled for stretchers and pointed at the building. “The FBI says there are twenty-one women in there, ages twelve to late twenties. We need more ambulances and a chopper. One of them has lower abdominal pain. She needs immediate evacuation.”
Ethan bent over, bracing his hands on his knees.Twenty-one women.Maybe he should go inside and help?
No. He wasn’t what they needed now. They needed medical attention. And experience had taught him not to look at their faces. Their terrorized expressions stayed with him. It was enough knowing each of them would have the opportunity to go back to their life or build a new one. He’d done his job.
Mac’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “This scene belongs to the Feds now. Let’s go, gentlemen. A black limo waits across the parking lot to take us to the airport. I, for one, could really use a strong coffee. Move it.”
Ethan peered beyond the chaotic bustle of the medics and caught Mac’s wave. A gurney rumbled past, transporting acrying woman with red hair. His mind instantly switched to Tia.Naw, she’s fine.The guys watching her house would make sure of that. He glanced at his watch. 3:37 a.m. One of the things he missed about being in a relationship was talk time after a night like this. Someone to unwind with.
This was one hell of a second job.Twenty-one women.One would’ve made it worth it.
24
Tia wrapped the royal-blue cashmere sweater tight like a hug and turned her face to the warm sun. Who were those men waiting by her car? Was her uncle all right? They had to speak with her down at the station. She should leave her car here. She floated into the back seat of the police cruiser.
The precinct loomed like a dark castle, the inside full of somber faces and quiet whispers. No, she didn’t want coffee or a lawyer. Was Carson all right? How could she not know? What had she seen?
That interrogator in a room. Yes, she wanted a lawyer. Where were her car keys? And Brent was so angry, waiting for her at home, and screaming at her. She had to go with him. No, no, she didn’t. Where was he on Saturday the seventh between 7:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.? Was he in trouble?
Brent dragging her to his car. He’d drive. His ranting and raving on Route 301, careening around slow-moving farm equipment. The blur of closed fruit and vegetable stands waiting for summer. His eyes in the rearview mirror pleading with her to understand.
Tia bolted upright on a gasp with her chest fluttering like frightened prey. Grabbing a rosebud-covered pillow, she rocked back and forth on the bed. It was just the dream. She’d survive. It wasn’t real. Not this time.
Would her subconscious never forget the vivid details? Tia ran both hands through her hair. Dammit. She hadn’t had the nightmare in six months. Why did her subconscious insist on reliving that horrible event at night?
It would fade with time. But right now? She remembered everything. The red light. The black semi swerving into a jackknife, always in slow motion. Their car spinning out of control, flipping, bouncing, and the thud of glass and metal. How her head had hit the roof and the floor over and over again. There was that hideous scraping when it had screeched to a stop, and she couldn’t move. She’d slept and had woken searching for air, as if swimming to the surface of a pond.
She’d never forget how the firefighters had apologized for hurting her, and the other firefighter asking her to stay with him. They’d get her out. They promised. And then, there was the unbearable burning in her chest, and equipment resembling oversize garden shears.
Oh, how the sleep had tugged at her eyelids. There were people yelling and running and a ferocious wind that morphed into a helicopter.
She still couldn’t process that Brent had turned out to be a dirty cop. How was she supposed to know? They’d dated for several years but in reality only spent weekends together, and she had no idea where he’d been on such and such a date at a particular time. All she knew was he always showed up with a smile and flowers, every week without fail. And she’d believed everything he’d said until that day.
Tia choked out a bitter laugh. It still hurt that during the interrogation, she’d just known that Carson was behind the two-way glass. He’d had to be there that night because Brent was a dirty cop in his precinct, and his niece’s betrothed.
They’d promised not to prosecute her if she told them what she knew, but she didn’t know a damn thing. That was the kicker. How gullible was she to not know anything? How many times had Brent lied to her? She’d never know the answer.
There were no feelings left for her former fiancé. They’d died the minute he’d thrown her into his car, forever changing her life. The selfish bastard hadn’t been there to help her handle the police interviews, the surgeries, the trauma, the scar that ran the length of her torso, and the relentless questions from the press. Thank goodness for her mother and Yolanda and Mo.
Tia glanced at the self-defense certificates on her wall. She was prepared if there was a next time.
She and Mo had briefly discussed Brent earlier. Maybe that was why the memories had resurfaced in a dream? She’d worked so hard with this new kick-ass therapist and had gotten very good at replacing negative thoughts with positive, powerful affirmations. Tia grabbed her phone and texted Mo.
We can’t discuss the B person ever again. Had the nightmare. xo