Alana Albertson - Invincible

“Hi, guys. So you boys used my boat for a little rescue mission? I knew you were up to something. Wish I could’ve tagged along. I missed all the action.”

Kyle spoke. “Sorry, Dave. We didn’t even know where she was. But you’re in the loop now. What’s up?”

“Everyone in Curaçao knew that Annie was taken. I looked for her myself when she first went missing, but I guess they had her hidden out in Aruba.”

I nodded. “Yup. That’s what she told me.”

“I’d heard of sightings of her, but nothing panned out. And, of course, an old bastard like me can’t really go undercover in a brothel. Not to mention all the locals know that I’m a former SEAL so I’d be the last one they’d tell.”

“Understood,” Kyle said.

“Well, almost exactly two years after she went missing, some contractors came around the island and asked about Annie. Flashing her picture everywhere.”

“We know this—that fake SEAL. He had people with him?”

“No, Pat. Not him. That con man never even looked for her. I have my doubts he even exists.”

I was confused. “I’m not following you.”

“These men that came looking for her were former Team guys. I could tell a mile away. Just like you guys. They were very thorough and professional. They must’ve hit every brothel here and in Aruba. Yet there has never been any mention of them by Annie’s family or the FBI.”

My mind raced. “So you think these guys were paid by her family but didn’t find her?”

Dave’s head shook. “No. I think they found her—and left her here.”

What the fuck was he saying? “That makes no fucking sense.”

“Hear me out. You found her by accident. I tried but was unable to because of my age and my reputation around these parts. These men worked for someone. Not the government. The FBI and CIA don’t send teams to rescue kidnapped Americans unless they’re one hundred percent certain that the hostages are in fact taken and not missing on their own accord. Like SEALs rescued Captain Phillips from the Somali Pirates, because it was confirmed that he was a hostage. Or the two missionaries who were kidnapped and saved. But Annie was different; she vanished. There was never any ransom notes, no one saw her get taken, her boyfriend was suspected of killing her or it was a possible suicide. Someone hired these guys, whoever they were, to find Annie. And I bet that they found her. They just decided not to bring her home.”

Jesus! It made sense. There was no way with all the money her parents had that they hadn’t found legit security contractors to locate her. Which group did they hire? Did they find her? If so, why didn’t they bring her home?

Kyle took over the conversation. “What did the guys look like?”

“Looked like recently retired SEALs. Older, mid to late thirties. Clean cut, no tattoos, built. One of them was a ginger.”

“No brothers?”

Dave and I both laughed at Kyle. We knew what he meant. Despite the diversity on the SEAL recruiting posters, the teams were eighty-five percent white like me. Vic and Kyle had both been recruited as part of an operational diversity program.

“Nope. Wish it were that easy. I hope this helps.”

“Thanks, Dave, I really appreciate it. Next time we’re in town, I’ll buy you a beer.”

“Any time. Let me know if you need anything.”

I stared at the empty screen, my mind totally blown. Finally, Kyle broke my trance, “Has Annie mentioned any other Americans she, uhm, ‘met’ over there?”

“Nope. She doesn’t talk about it.”

“Well, I’ll call Vic and we can start digging through older Team guys—see who’s in contracting, any redheads. But you need to talk to your girlfriend, make sure we’re on to something.”

“I doubt she’ll talk, I’ll try. Thanks, man.”

“Any time. I need to take care of some business upstairs and then I’ll get right on it.”

I gave him a high five. “I get it. I’ll let myself out.”

I walked out of the house, but instead of getting back into my truck, I headed to the ocean. I needed to clear my head.

My gut clenched. I had to interrogate Annie about her Johns without her getting suspicious.

“In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed. I will not fail.”

I returned back to my apartment carrying two Iced Mochas from Bird Rock Coffee.

Annie greeted me with a kiss—and a clean apartment. She’d scrubbed my floors, dusted the furniture, even folded my laundry. Fuck, I didn’t remember getting married.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I just need to be busy.”

I got it. And here I was about to interrogate her about her past.

We sat at the table.

“What’s wrong, Pat? You’re acting weird. Are you still upset about Chris? We’re meeting him in an hour so—”

“No. That’s not it.”

“No secrets. Spill it.”

I didn’t know how to approach her. We had an unspoken rule never to talk about her time in the brothel. “In the brothel, when I came back to see if you were who you said you were, you told that me that you and Nicole were convinced you were going to be saved. Why did you think that?”

She shifted in her seat. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“Why now?” She sucked her cheeks in.

“I always wanted to ask you. There’s never a right time.”

“It was nothing. I just thought this other guy was sent to save me once. He never came back. Why does it matter?”

“It matters to me. Why did you think he was going to come back?”

“First, you get all jealous about Chris and now you’re interrogating me about the clients? You know I don’t want to talk about them.”

I couldn’t tell her why. “Please, Annie. I just have to know.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “What do you want me to say? You want to hear how he forced me to make out with Nicole? What positions he fucked me in? Will that make you happy?”

“Dammit, Annie. Is that what you think of me? Of course, I don’t want to know that shit. You don’t think that it kills me that all those men used you? That I used you? Every fucking night since I met you, I have nightmares of faceless men who fuck you. And in them I’m fucking helpless and can’t save you. I want to kill every man who has ever touched you. I just wanted to fucking try to understand why no one ever saved you? You mentioned it. Is that so fucking wrong?”

She pulled out her hair, like she had on the night I’d returned to the brothel. “I’m  sorry, Pat. I’m just so fucked up. I just lost it. I hate myself.”

“I’m not mad at you.” I pulled her to me, and kissed her forehead. “I know this is hard for you. I’ve been thinking about it and I want to know. But if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.” I wasn’t using reverse psychology—I didn’t want to upset her further. She’d tell me when she was ready.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

“I’m sorry I brought it up. Forget I asked. We need to leave soon to meet your boyfriend.”

“Ha ha. I’ll get ready.”

Annie emerged from the bathroom wearing one of those short, flippy skirts, a tank top, and strappy sandals. Granted it was eighty degrees, but she looked too damn hot to go outside.

“What are you wearing?”

“Jesus Pat. Controlling much? It’s scorching out and I thought you’d like it. I bought it yesterday. Now you going to tell me what to wear? I was a hooker, I’m beyond modesty.”

My throat became dry. We weren’t communicating at all. “No, I’m not telling you what to wear. But we’re going to meet your ex boyfriend. I already don’t trust him, and I don’t need him lusting after you in front of me. You can wear whatever you want. It’s going to be so fucking hard for me to be away from you when I deploy next month and you’re not making it any easier.”

“So if I dress sexy it will be harder for you to trust me? That’s dumb.” She wasn’t backing down.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I trust you. It’s hard enough for me to imagine all those men touching you. I get so angry when I think about it. I just want you to myself. And he’s your ex. I’m a man. I know what he’s going to think when he sees you. You’re fucking hot.”

She shrugged. “Okay. I’ll change.”

God, was I that much of a paranoid asshole? I wasn’t one of those men who thought that women who dressed sexy were asking for it. I just wanted to protect Annie. I didn’t want anyone fantasizing about her. It would be impossible for me to focus on my job if I’m worried sick about everyman eye fucking her while I’d be away.

She came back out in longer shorts, a tee shirt, and the same strappy sandals.

I kissed her. “You still look hot. Thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal. I get it.” She rested her head on my chest. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being honest with me about your feelings. I want you to be able to trust me. I didn’t realize how hard it would be for you to accept my past. Like, I knew you wouldn’t judge me for what happened, but I forget that it must be tough for you anyway to think about me being with those guys. What I’m saying is that it means a lot to me that you want to be with me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you and say this is easy for me. Because it isn’t. No man wants to picture any one touching his girl ever, let alone thousands. I know it wasn’t your choice. I know it wasn’t your fault. In my head, that girl was Star.”

She had a gleam in her eye, like an inner glow from her soul. “But for me, I feel like you’re the only man that gets me. Because you saw me as Star. And you’re still here. You haven’t just read about my past, you saw me first hand like that. Fuck, I mean you hired me. Star is a part of me and I don’t want to forget about her. Ever. She made me strong. Nothing can shake me now. I’ve made peace with my past, getting taken, the rapes, the drugs, the men. Yeah, it was a nightmare. But it was my path. I was meant to be with you. Therapy and yoga helped me understand that. I feel like I can do anything, endure anything.”