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Dammit.
With the mask pulled off my face temporarily, a putrid stench invades my nose, making my stomach wretch. This place is more revolting than it was in the dark, and the smell is horrific.
A few seconds later, Tomer races from the kitchen toward the east hallway, his big steps eating up the space in seconds. His panicked voice bellows, “Lettie! Lettie Holt! Violet!”
Shep trails behind him, hollering for her too.
The sounds of doors banging echo from that side of the house. She must not be one of the five from that room either.
He’s frantic to find her. The longer he searches, the more anguish braids itself into his tone.
“Lettie! It’s me, sugar. Answer me!” Tomer’s desperate wails echo from the east side of the house.
Aside from Tomer and Shep searching for Lettie, everything starts happening at breakneck speed.
Our team begins corralling the conscious girls, bringing them to the living room. I attempt to keep them calm while watching the tangos.
The men we subdued yell out curses now that they realize we’re here to fuck up their entire operation and that no one on their side was able to fight back.
Done checking for alarm signals, Jonesy makes his rounds, snapping pictures of all the traffickers.
We used to do that in the service too. Proof of capture and for facial recognition. It might come in handy here too.
“Taking photos to send to you,” he tells Mia.
Junior returns to the room with two frightened girls at his side. “Go sit with the others,” he urges them softly.
They run to join the others, now gathering in the far corner of the living room opposite their hogtied captors.
“Violet!” Tomer yells, racing back into the living room, his head on a swivel as he studies the faces of the victims.
“James?” a meek voice calls out from the west side of the house.
“Lettie,” he cries out in relief, frantically scanning the living room and removing his mask.
And there she is.
VioletLettieAnastasia Holt.
Wearing a ripped, oversized T-shirt that comes down to the top of her thighs. There’s a bruise on her cheek, and her blond hair is a knotted mess.
But she’s alive.
No clue where she was hiding, but as she emerges from the hallway, she keeps her arms wrapped around herself protectively. Her eyes timidly search the scene.
When she sees Tomer, he’s already zooming toward her. She takes one step in his direction, closing the remaining distance between them.
Their embrace is something straight out of a Hollywood movie. They slam into each other, bodies merging with an intensity that makes my breath stutter and my stomach pitch.
“I got you, sugar bear,” he murmurs over and over into her hair. “I got you.”
“James, oh my god. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she whispers. “How did you find me?”
Cymbal crash.
James?
Surely, she jests.
