Unshackle (Deliver 7)

“Then one day,” he said, running a gentle hand along her back, “a dashing, wealthy man with a silver tongue walked into your life.”

“Yeah. He singled me out from all the other girls, made me feel special, and treated me to the most expensive dinner I’ve ever had. He dated me for weeks. The lying, cold-blooded son of a bitch made me believe he was falling in love with me. Little did I know, his father had sent him after me. I didn’t even suspect that he had cartel affiliations. That’s why Miguel is so good at his job. Ever elusive and sophisticated, he lures girls in and wins their trust.”

“Why were you targeted by his father?”

Her gaze darted through the bathroom as a crawling sensation prickled her scalp. Could she trust his word that there were no devices in here? What if the cartel was listening right now? She hadn’t over-shared yet, but answering his question would end as gruesomely as the girl on the meat hook.

Sensing her tension, he glided his fingers through her hair. “Give me what you can for now.”

She breathed in slowly, relishing the clean, masculine scent of his neck. “Miguel offered to help me escape to the United States, promising I would become a free, legal citizen and make more than enough money to pay off my debts. That was the pivotal, most important thing he could’ve offered me. I have years of debt, accrued through desperate means.” Her chest squeezed. “I owe a lot of money to some shady collectors for reasons I’m not ready to talk about.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” Sudden anger spiked through her, and she leaned back, causing water to lap around their chests. “I have regrets, but not about that. My debts were necessary. I did what I had to do and will never ever feel ashamed about it.”

“Good girl.” His touch on her cheek wasn’t pitying or shaming. It was supportive. “The water’s cooling.”

He opened the drain and stood, taking her with him. Out of the tub, he led her to the settee, where he dried them both off and snagged two robes. Once they were wrapped in terrycloth, he lowered onto the seat beside her.

She hadn’t finished her story, but he didn’t press. He simply sat beside her, quiet and patient.

How much could she tell him? Not all of it. But if she gave him some insight into how the cartel trafficked girls, it might help him stop the operation. If that was his aim. She hoped.

It was more hope than she’d had in years, and that scared the shit out of her.

“Miguel offered me an installment plan.” She hugged her waist, hating how naive she’d been. “All I had to do was sign a contract that promised to pay back the money I borrowed by working for his connections at a restaurant or factory. The going rate was thirty-thousand dollars. It sounded too good to be true. But hey, everyone gets rich in America, right? So I signed, ignoring the clause that said my family would be responsible for my debt if I couldn’t pay.”

“You didn’t know what would happen.”

“I should’ve known. There were so many warning signs. I ignored them all and paid for phony identification documents, adding to the debt I was already trying not to freak out about. Then I let him put me into a car with a strange man, who drove me to a strange city in California.”

“What did you tell your family?”

“I didn’t. I left Mexico thinking I would call once I was settled.” Her chest constricted against the stabbing guilt. “I was taken to a place that was neither a restaurant nor a factory. There, in a filthy backroom packed with dozens of girls just like me, I was handed off to Miguel’s connection, who told me I would be a prostitute. I would be charged room and board while I paid off the thirty-thousand dollars I owed them. Just like that, I went from being in debt to being in more trouble than I could’ve ever imagined.”

He gripped her hand on her lap and bowed his head. At the edge of her vision, she watched his jaw grind and flex.

“I protested.” She sat taller, recalling the painful memories. “God, I fought. I don’t even know how many times I tried to cut and run. I even enlisted the other girls to rally with me. But every effort I made ended in agony. He beat me, starved me, kept me awake for days on end until I was too disoriented and weak to lift my head. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my future.”

“You knew you’d been trafficked.”

“I was starting to suspect that. I mean, I understood all along that what they were doing wasn’t legal, but part of me still believed I was in control of my situation. I remember lying in that backroom—eyes swollen shut, ribs cracked, my stomach twisted with hunger—and that’s when I finally came to terms with how grim my predicament was. I’d unknowingly sold myself to La Rocha Cartel and became an illegal immigrant, without a cent to my name. I didn’t know where I was, had no access to a phone, and no options because no one allowed me to go anywhere alone.”