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“Engaged to be.”
“I’m married,” I blurt. “This is my husband’s house. My house.Ourhouse.” And was once my prison.Good lord.
Pearl gazes around. “What does he do?”
Fuck. “Umm, he... yes... umm.” This is harder than I thought it would be.
Pearl’s shoulders drop a little, displaying exasperation. “Forgive me,” she says, tucking her short hair behind her ear again. “I don’t know which one was your husband, but they were all carrying guns.” She makes a point of having a good look around the plush, substantial TV room that has a screen big enough to play ping-pong on. “They stormed the place we were being kept. It was all a bit of a blur, but they looked like they knew what they were doing when they fired those guns.”
Beau and I both shrink.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she goes on. “In fact, I don’t want to know. But...” Looking between us, she chews her lip, and I notice a little hole in the right corner. An old piercing? “Are you good people or are we”—she motions to the other girls—“about to leave one level of hell and drop to another?”
“God, no,” I say, desperate to reassure her. “We’re good people.” I can feel Beau’s skeptical eyes on me. I ignore her. I know to many we’re not, but to these girls we’re definitely good, and I’m taking comfort in that. “My husband saved me from a life of sex slavery.”
“He did?”
Beau squeezes my hand. “He did.”
“Who is he?”
Fuck it all.“His name’s Danny.”
She nods, looking at Beau in question, and I discreetly exhale my relief that she hasn’t pressed for more. She wants to know Beau’s situation. “Mine’s called James,” is all Beau says.
Pearl nods, accepting, and then smiles. “Danny Black and James Kelly.”
Beau and I jerk like we’ve been hit by a bullet. “What?” Beau says, dropping my hand, moving forward. “You know them?”
“I heard some of the men saying their names.” She frowns. “It was the only English I heard, along with The Brit and The Enigma.” Pearl looks at me. “Your husband is The Brit.” She looks at Beau. “Yours is The Enigma.”
“I’m not married,” Beau breathes quietly, moving back, looking at me. I don’t know why. I have nothing to say.
“How old are you?” Beau asks.
“I’m twenty-one,” Pearl replies quietly. Then she frowns. “I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know what month it is.”
“It’s May,” Beau says, glancing at me, wondering, no doubt, how long Pearl has been away from home.
“Then I’m twenty-one,” she says, almost sadly. “In April. The fifth.”
Twenty-one. Such an important birthday. I remember mine. I was on a yacht in the Adriatic Sea. Sounds luxurious. Lavish. Dreamy. It wasn’t. I was fucked and beaten black and blue every day for weeks by a corrupt diplomat until I’d gotten Nox the information he needed. And then I was beaten black and blue again because it took me longer than he’d liked.
I lose my breath for a moment and fight to get it back, looking around the TV room if only to remind me of where I am. “Clothes,” I choke out, getting up to check on the unconscious girl, her pulse, her chest, before hurrying toward the door, just as Doc pushes his way through.
“Next,” he says with a hint of humor, scanning the crowd of potential patients.
“How’s Brad?” I ask.
“He’ll be fine.” He’s quite dismissive, but I can’t blame him. He’s run off his feet today.
“You should start with the unconscious one,” I say like an idiot, making Beau roll her eyes.
“They all need checkups.” Beau takes over, looking back at Pearl. “This is Doc.” She smiles as she comes over and rubs the old man on the shoulder. “He’s the best.” Then she moves into Doc’s ear. “They’re nervous.”
