Page 80 of Beast

Patrick

AFTER A PIT STOP AT our hotel to gather our stuff and check out, we drove Annie and her son straight to the yacht. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of Curaçao. Kyle started up the boat to anchor it a few miles off the dock. We’d drop them off at the embassy in the morning, and then head back to Aruba in the afternoon, when the waters were calm.

I hadn’t said much on the car ride. I’d just killed a man, possibly the little boy’s father. No regret, but I needed a moment of silence.

Once we boarded the ship, I took Annie and her son to the living area. “Annie, these are my friends, Kyle and Vic. Vic’s a medic; he’s going to help start your detox. I bought you clothes and supplies.”

She blinked rapidly, scanning the tiny room. She wore a tattered shirt, which skimmed her thighs, and black panties. She was skinny, almost deathly so. Her little boy was clad in an oversized tee shirt and gym shorts. I still hadn’t heard him speak, and I prayed he wouldn’t be forever traumatized by the violence of the rescue. Annie swayed with the movement of the boat, a little disoriented, probably in shock, and confused. Her flat black hair hung around her face and she hugged her arms tight to her chest. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper and cracked with emotion. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I can’t ever thank you enough. I never, ever thought . . .”

She bit her lip in an attempt to stop the tears that shone in her eyes. She looked vulnerable and doll-like in the soft light of the room. I pulled her to me and held her close, her small frame tucked into my large one. She felt fragile in my huge arms, breakable. I took a steadying breath to stem the rising urge to keep her there, a feeling which pissed me off as much as it confused me.

“You’re welcome. You don’t have to thank me.”

She didn’t respond for a few moments, instead she tucked herself more closely into my embrace. I was loath to let her go, enjoying the feel of her soft body against mine when she took a step back.

I exhaled. I didn’t know what the fuck I’d expected her reaction to be. I guess I thought she’d be running around ecstatic, kissing and hugging me, but her dull calm threw me. I had to remind myself she was an addict, and the reality of her freedom hadn’t sunk in for her yet.

The little boy remained quiet.

Annie watched me eye him. “His name is Gabriel. He’s three and a half.”

I didn’t have a fucking clue what to say to him. “Hey, buddy. I’m Pat.”

He wrapped his body around Annie’s leg. I handed her the duffel bag I’d prepared for her. She murmured thank you and walked slowly into the bathroom, her little boy trailing her, and shut the door.

I pulled out a bottle of whiskey from my sea bag, throwing back a quick shot. What the fuck had I gotten us into?

If this had been a movie, we would’ve whisked her to the embassy, her parents waiting to greet her. I’d have a hero’s welcome. We’d profess our love to each other and go on to live happily ever after.

But this wasn’t a movie. This rescue was off the books. The embassy in Curaçao was closed because it was the middle of the night and on the weekend. I didn’t even know her. And our victim was a heroin-addicted prostitute with a child.

Vic took some meds out of his bag. “So, it’s going to be a rough detox, especially for the next seventy-two hours. And now we have her son to take care of. We’ll keep her comfortable. Did you know about the kid? Who was the dad?”

“Of course I didn’t know. Not a fucking clue who the father is.” I heard water run. What was going through her head now? Her family, her friends, me?

Kyle laughed. “Dude, you pulled this off. Do you get how crazy this shit is? I mean, she’s been missing for five years, presumed dead. I never doubted you. Are you going to claim the reward?”

Three hundred thousand dollars. I made around sixty thousand a year. A pittance considering the fact I risked my life every day. Killed for my country. Could die for my country. I could use the money. Buy my mom a nicer house. Maybe save up some for my retirement, when I’d probably be so physically and mentally fucked up that I wouldn’t be able to hold down a job. But I didn’t want a cent. That’s not why I did what I did. Why any of us did.

“Nope. Not going to touch it. I hope to hell Annie will keep our involvement out of the press. But I’m prepared to face the consequences if our command finds out.”

We’d already covered this ground—I wouldn’t have brought them into this if I was going to shout about it from the rooftops—but it was done now and they needed to know I was committed to that.

“Well, I doubt they’d discipline us for saving an American girl who was sex trafficked and her son born into captivity. The media would have a field day with that. ‘Navy SEALs punished for saving America’s Sweetheart and innocent boy.’ I say you collect the reward. I’ll take my share. I need a new truck.”

“What-the-fuck-ever, man. You’re loaded with all your NFL money. Anyway, not going to happen.”

Annie emerged from the bathroom, clutching Gabriel. She’d changed into the sweat suit I’d bought her.

Her son finally spoke. “Mommy sad.” He wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m going to get him to sleep.”

“Hey, wait.” I pulled that teddy bear I’d taken from the rubble out of my sea bag, and handed it to Gabriel. “Is this yours?”

Gabriel smiled. “Bear!” He squeezed the bear.

Annie’s mouth dropped. “Thank you. He’d been asking about it but I thought it was gone forever.”