But I wasn’t like that. It went deeper than that. I loved women. All women. My mom taught me never to disrespect a woman. I’d given my heart to one woman once, and she gutted me. All the times I was stuck in some hole in Afghanistan, dreaming about her, to think she was screwing around on me. I didn’t need that complication, my job was stressful enough. I needed my home life to be peaceful, because my line of work was anything but. The only men in the Teams who had successful marriages had women who were completely strong, honest, and loyal. It was hard to build that type of relationship when I was never home. So I chose to just be single until I retired. But I was still a man and had my needs. It didn't help that I was plagued by the memory of Annie’s mouth on my cock and her hands gripping my thighs as I came.

But enough of that relationship bullshit. I had to be steadfast—no matter what, I could not allow myself to give her any hope that we could be together.

I couldn't wait to get this the fuck over with. I tried not to think about what would happen after I deserted her at the embassy. If her family would treat her right, if her friends could look her in the face and keep from cringing. It wasn't my problem. She wasn't my problem. I would do my job and get her back to safety and then I would get the fuck out of there. I’d seen what the media did to these rediscovered treasures—they stalked them like celebrities. I could never be part of that media circus, not with my job, my life.

I’d fulfill my duty to her, keep my promise. But after that, she was on her own. She had a family waiting for her anyway. I could never fit into her life and she could never be a part of mine. She’d just have to forget she ever met me, just like I hoped she would forget all the torture she endured. And I could go back to living my life the way I liked to.

Alone.

6.

Our carrier pulled into port at sunrise. Had this been Annie’s last sight before she had been taken? Her desire to photograph its beauty had cost her freedom. Today, I would liberate her. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face once I’d saved her. All the training I’d gone through in my life had prepared me for this mission. And if we're being honest, I relished that feeling of accomplishment. It was the only thing in my life that made me feel better.

Vic, Kyle, and I left the ship and headed to the private dock to get our yacht.

We made our way through the maze of scuba tours, glass bottom boats, and moonlit cruises. A middle-aged bearded guy with a ponytail and a beer belly met us at the dock, dangling the keys.

“You must be Dave.” Kyle shook his hand, and Vic and I followed suit.

“Nice to meet you. The Cleito is all cleaned up and ready for you.”

I glanced at Vic and Kyle. The Cleito. In Plato’s myth of Atlantis, Cleito bore Poseidon ten sons. An obscure Navy SEAL trident reference, but we all understood the significance of the name instantly.

Dave handed me the keys. “So what are your plans? I know some great scuba spots.”

I placed the keys in my pocket. “Thanks, man. We’re just going to relax, go fishing, snorkel, maybe head to Aruba.”

Dave glared at our seabags, filled with our night-ops equipment. He was no dummy; former old-school frogman. He probably sensed that we were planning something other than checking out the local tropical fish...at least not the kind that swam in the sea. “Well, I’m happy to show you around. Anything you need.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We will.” I eyed Kyle, who nodded toward me. We could trust this man. Any BUD/S class, any trident. He was one of us. Basically fucking family.

“Well, let me give you a tour.” He led us on the boat. It was no luxury yacht by any means but it would be perfect for our needs. Downstairs there was a small galley kitchen, upstairs there were two bedrooms—one with two twin beds and one with a queen, a bathroom, and a tiny living area. And a small area to relax up on top deck. I gave Kyle the keys and he fiddled around with the controls.

We spent the rest of the day stocking up the ship with food, drinks, and supplies. I’d bought Annie clothes, shoes, toiletries, magazines, some books. Wasn’t sure what she was into but I figured anything that could keep her mind off drugs and what she’d been through would be a good bet.

Hours later, the sun had finally set. We cleaned, loaded, and concealed our weapons.

I was ready to fuck some shit up.

Kyle stood up. “Let’s do this!”

Operation Rumpelstiltskin was ready to go down.

We’d all dressed casually. I had no fear—this was more like a training exercise than a mission.

Nothing could go wrong.

We walked down through the back alleys of Curaçao. A rush pulsed through my body. In less than an hour, Annie’s nightmare would be over and a whole new world would begin.

When we turned onto the street, I gasped. The brothel was nowhere in sight—instead, ashes were strewn across the ground, burnt mattresses collapsed in the street.

It was gone—she was gone.

I’d failed her.

Vic put his arm around my shoulder. “You sure this is the place?”

“Positive.”

Kyle sifted through the embers, eyes focused. “I’m sure she’s alive and they just moved her.”

My eyelids burned and I could feel the pulse in my throat.

A man walked by, wearing a watch that looked like the one I’d given the pimp.

I ran and shoved him against the next building. “Where did you get that fucking watch?”

He quivered, and once I got a closer look, I realized it wasn’t my watch.

Vic and Kyle dashed after me.

I released the man. “Sorry. My mistake.”

Vic stood in my personal space and made strong eye contact. “Pat, we’ll find her.”

I backed away from them, and started back into town.

If she were still alive, I would find her. Annie had survived this long. I just prayed she wouldn’t give up, because I would search every corner of this earth until I found her.

“I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity.”

7.

We sat around in the yacht and hatched a plan over beer and pizza. I had two weeks to find her. Two weeks until we were due back on our carrier where we would deploy to the Middle East. By then she would be lost forever. And so would I. There was no more room for errors.

Kyle always tried to take charge. “It’s easy. Let’s just go and ask around town until someone talks. Or we can ask Dave for help. He knows this area.”

“It’s not that easy.” I took a swig of my beer and studied the breaking waves. “I don’t want to involve Dave. We don’t know him. We can’t raise suspicion. They could kill her if the wrong person found out.”

Vic nodded in agreement. “We should tell Lt. Marshall. Just go through the channels. That’s the best way.”

Kyle and I exchanged a glance. I’d already informed Vic that telling our command wasn’t an option. Especially now—I’d wasted enough time.

“I fucked up. I should’ve told you guys the night I met her. We could’ve gotten her the next night when I went back. Now it'll be on my shoulders if she ODs or winds up in a ditch.”

Kyle grabbed another slice of pizza. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We had to get back on the ship that night. What the fuck could we have done? Save her and then just drop her off somewhere? And don't be suck a fucking pussy. She didn’t get moved because you came back. They move these girls all the fucking time.”

I knew that, she’d even told me that. But I hadn’t listened. Too cocky, and now I didn’t have a fucking clue where she was.

I stood up. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t have to explain myself. Vic and Kyle pounded back their beers, polished off their pizza, and we left.

We weaved in and out of the underbelly of Curaçao. Must’ve hit up a dozen more brothels. It was so fucking depressing. Some of the whores couldn’t have been older than fourteen. The older ones reeked of desperation. Dead eyes, bruised bodies, drugged minds.

But there was no sign of Annie.

We found another joint; this one was more similar to the one I’d met Annie at. But again, she was nowhere in sight. More importantly, at all of these brothels, I never recognized any of the other girls who’d worked with Annie. I knew that they couldn’t have all just vanished into the night. They had to be somewhere. Unless they were six feet under.

Kyle disappeared into one of the rooms with a girl. He said he was going to ‘take one for the team’ so we didn’t arouse suspicions.

When he emerged from the room, he had a big smile on his face.

“Was she that good?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t know. I couldn’t bear to fuck her, just in case she was another American and I’d have to deal with this shit. So she just gave me a hand job. Not half bad but I do a better job myself. Anyway, I told her I had fucked this amazing whore at the brothel that had burnt down. She said she’d heard that a bunch of girls were just moved to Aruba.” He smirked. "Told you I'd take one for the Team."

“Let’s go.” I pressed my palms downward; this time I didn’t want to be overly confident. The cool Caribbean breeze calmed my mind. Annie had mentioned she’d been transferred to Aruba once. Made sense that she was back there now.

Aruba was a mere sixty-nine miles away.

Pictures of Annie in various situations raced through my mind. Annie being raped by some sweaty fat ass with tentacle hands and bad breath. Annie shooting up and stoned out of her mind on the dirty floor of a dark room. Annie being beaten by an overenthusiastic pimp with a heavy hand and no one to protect her. Annie crying alone at night because she'd finally given up hope that I would find her.