Anchor point, p.10
Anchor Point, page 10
Cutter might be the only exception. The scarred man terrifies me almost as much as the men who took me.
So…I should be afraid. Yet, instead of being scared, instead of lying awake last night worrying about being here with them, I slept peacefully, like a baby, for the first time since this whole ordeal started.
I have no idea where Elijah slept, though. It certainly wasn't in his usual spot in the chair across the room. After his phone call and the promise he made me, he disappeared faster than smoke on the water and left me wondering where all of this is going to end.
If it ever is.
One thing is clear, though. They’re planning something very dangerous. They're going into enemy territory without important information. Information that will help keep them safe and could save other lives. Information I have.
It’s been bouncing around in my head ever since I got here, and the endless debate with myself about how much to tell them and whether I can really trust them or not has been relentless. But after what happened last night between Elijah and me, the answer is finally clear.
I need to help them any way I can.
Not only to make sure the men who did this pay but also to ensure that the man who rescued me doesn't get hurt in the process.
If something happened to Elijah…especially when I could have done something to prevent it, I couldn’t live with myself.
I pull open the door to Elijah's room and step out into the hallway. Other than using the bathroom and eating the few meals that weren’t brought to me, I haven't left this room the entire time I've been here.
That changes now.
Hiding in here, waiting for my new life to be handed to me, isn’t an option anymore. I need to step up and help make it happen.
I square my shoulders and move down the hallway toward the voices. My bare feet barely make a sound on the cold concrete floors. All five of them and Valentina sit around the massive wooden table, deep in discussion about something that has everyone looking tense.
Bile rises in my throat.
You can do this, Eva.
No one notices me. That seems to be the story of my life.
And as soon as someone did, I ended up chained in the hold of a ship to be sold off as a sex slave.
I clear my throat. The conversation ceases, and all eyes turn to me where I stand at the end of the hallway.
Elijah pushes up from his chair and approaches me slowly. “Eva, are you okay?”
I nod and glance behind him at the others. Valentina watches me expectantly. She's the only one of the girls at the table, and given what I've managed to learn, it makes sense. She seems to be just as powerful, if not more so, than these guys. Yet, there’s something deeply kind and caring in her eyes. She’s not completely hardened like them.
“I need to tell you something.”
Elijah's brow furrows, and he takes another step toward me. “What is it?”
“I need to talk to all of you.”
His eyebrows fly up, and he searches my face. He probably thought it had something to do with what happened between us last night, and while that may have been the catalyst for finally coming forward and telling him what I know, it ultimately has nothing to do with our kiss and everything to do with my wanting to give them the best chance possible to destroy those bastards.
He motions for me to follow him over to the table and pulls out an empty chair next to him for me to sit. I look around at all the expectant faces as they wait for me to say something. Valentina offers me a kind smile, and I manage to swallow through the lump in my throat.
“I have some information that may be useful to you.”
All eyes remain locked on me. Even the ones I can’t see, hidden behind the reflective aviator glasses Cutter wears, assess me, stripping me bare of any ability to hide.
Warwick nods. “Information about what?”
I consider my words for a moment as nerves suddenly cause my stomach to churn. They won’t believe me.
How do I explain in it in a way they’ll understand?
It’s probably best to just be direct. “The Albanians and their operation.”
Rion chuckles and leans back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, I'll be damned.”
Cutter scowls at me from across the table but otherwise doesn't react. Milo continues to snooze on his lap, and Cutter’s hand rests motionless on Milo’s back.
Warwick leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “What sort of information?”
What he really means is what could I possibly know that they have no idea about.
I take a deep breath and clasp my hands together on my lap. The last thing I want to do is relive any of the time I spent on that ship or bring up any of the memories of anything that happened there, but I need to. To help them. Ultimately, to help myself. “You're right that the men who took me are Albanian. From Chicago. At least, that's where we were headed.”
Warwick nods. “We knew that.” He glances at Valentina. “Valentina has connections in Chicago to keep her abreast of a lot of what happens there.”
I nod. “I overheard things.”
Warwick's eyes widen.
Cutter leans forward. “What sort of things?” His voice is low, almost a growl, and it causes goose bumps to roll across my skin. Milo doesn’t even react—apparently used to his owner’s attitude.
I swallow thickly and shrug, trying my best to keep my spine straight and my shoulders set. I don’t want him to see my nerves. “A lot of things. Several of the men weren't very good about paying attention to who was around and might be listening when they talked. They probably assumed we were too weak to notice or care what they were saying or that we wouldn't understand them.”
Warwick raises an eyebrow. “But, you could understand them?”
I nod slowly. “Sometimes they spoke Albanian, and by the end, I understood some of it, but they often spoke English because several of the guys were American born and they didn't understand Albanian enough to carry on a conversation.”
Cutter grunts and leans back in his chair. “Sounds rather convenient.”
Elijah slams his hand on the table. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His clenched jaw. The vein throbbing at his temple. He’s ready to launch himself across the table at Cutter.
For me.
And Cutter doesn’t give a shit.
He shrugs. “Just that it seems awfully convenient that she's been here for a week and hasn’t said a word, yet now, she suddenly decides to come forward with this information she supposedly overheard right at the same time we are getting ready to infiltrate their organization. I don't trust it.” He growls. “I don't trust her.”
Valentina reaches over and smacks Cutter’s shoulder. “Vai all’inferno.” She smiles at me and leans closer. “What were you able to learn?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Having everyone at the table watching me has stolen my ability to speak.
Rion pushes back from the table and climbs to his feet. “I'll be right back.” He disappears through the kitchen door.
Elijah places a hand on my shoulder as he leans in. “Don't pay any attention to Cutter.”
I force a smile and nod. It’s hard to ignore the man when he’s sitting only a few feet away from me with such palpable disdain and mistrust.
Rion returns with a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He hands me the water.
“Thank you.”
He nods before he drops back into his chair and takes a long swig of the beer.
It’s a little early to be drinking, but who am I to judge? These guys have likely seen and done things in their lives I can’t even fathom. How they choose to deal with it is none of my business.
I twist off the cap and take two long pulls of the cold water. Everyone watches me intently, and the moment I set the bottle on the table, the pressure to continue with what I know practically crushes me.
“I don’t want to know the details, but I know what you intend to do. I thought it would be helpful to confirm that a man named Erjon is their leader. He took over when the previous head of the family died. I didn’t quite understand all of it when they were talking. Apparently, Erjon had been working on establishing the human trafficking ring for a while, though, because the guys who took me said they made their first run through Central Europe and the South Pacific within weeks of Erjon taking power.”
Valentina smacks the table. “I knew it. I knew Aleksander couldn’t have been involved in this. It was Erjon.”
Warwick glances at her before returning his attention to me. “What else did you learn that might be helpful?”
I suck in a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. “One of the crewmen talked to me. A lot.” I breathe slowly, in and out, trying to rid myself of the smell he always brought with him, the one I can’t forget. “He told me they made a trip every six weeks or so, on a constant schedule. But…”
My hand shakes as I reach out for the water bottle. I take another drink and clench the plastic in my hand.
“They were able to get hold of something that needs to get here fast. They couldn’t get it on board with us, so there’s another shipment coming right behind us. I think he said it would arrive a week or so after our ship. Maybe it’s an opportunity for you to take out some of the crew when they don’t have Erjon’s protection.”
“Shit.” Warwick shoves a hand through his hair. “When?”
“How long have I been here?” I don’t even know. Between my illness and the fact that I haven’t been watching the news or on any social media, I’ve lost all concept of time.
Elijah raps his knuckles against the table. “Seven days, three hours, and forty-five minutes.”
All heads turn toward him.
“Fuck.” Cutter pushes away from the table, sets a startled Milo to the floor, and rises to his feet. His palms press flat on the wooden surface separating us, and he leans across it toward me. “That means we basically have no time to track down that ship and intercept it. Even if it hasn’t already made it to Chicago, we have no time to plan a raid. This time, they’ll be ready for us. And you didn’t fucking think to mention this until now?”
Elijah jumps up and slams his fist against the table. “Fuck you, Cutter. Leave her alone.”
“Why should I?” Cutter rises to his full height. “She’s a fucking liability, and now, we find out she’s been hiding this from us? You should have let her die on that fucking ship.”
Everyone at the table seems to freeze. Everyone except Elijah. He’s around the table and throwing a punch at Cutter so fast, no one has time to intercept him.
Cutter’s left arm flies up to deflect the blow, and his right fist connects with Elijah’s jaw.
Rion is on his feet and dragging Cutter back before Warwick can even get out of his chair.
The leader of this ragtag group pushes against Elijah’s chest, putting several feet between him and Cutter, who still pulls against Rion’s hold. If Rion wasn’t quite possibly the largest man I’ve ever seen in my life, I doubt he could have held Cutter back.
Elijah seethes and resists Warwick’s attempt to move him even farther back. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that. She’s the victim here, Cutter. Try to remember that.”
Cutter shakes his head. “You’re so fucking blind to what’s happening here, E.”
“Oh, really? Like you were when Valentina came in here and used you to get to Arturo and step up as head of the family?”
Oh shit.
I have no idea what the hell they’re talking about, but Valentina’s entire body stiffens, and a dark cloud seems to settle over Cutter.
Warwick shoves E back toward the hallway to the bedrooms. “Get the fuck out of here before Cutter kills you, E. Cool the fuck off.” Warwick whirls around and points at Cutter. “And you…keep your fucking mouth shut. I swear to God, if you start shit now, with Grace pregnant and about to give birth and the FBI potentially with information that can ID us, I cannot guarantee you’ll walk out of here alive.”
Holy shit.
Rion releases Cutter, who clenches his jaw and storms off and out of the warehouse without a glance back. Milo rushes after him but has the door slammed in his face. He stares at it for a moment before turning around and trudging slowly back toward the rest of us. E disappears down the hallway toward his room.
And I’m left sitting speechless at the table with Valentina, Rion, Warwick, and Preacher, who hasn’t said a word since I came out here.
He clears his throat and rubs a hand over his beard. “And you fuckers wonder why I never leave my room and prefer the company of computers.” He pushes to his feet and offers me a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Eva. Come tell me every detail you can remember, and I’ll start tracking down the next ship and getting what we need to make a plan.”
Valentina releases a deep sigh. “What about Erjon? He told E to come to him. Should we leave him waiting?”
Warwick drops his head and clutches his hands behind his head. “What a fucking mess. We don’t have time to plan a raid on this next shipment and take care of Erjon and his Chicago crew before we would need to hit the water. He’ll have to wait. The women who are on that ship can’t.”
Tears sting my eyes. Maybe these guys are more human than I gave them credit for.
Except for Cutter.
Those glasses have blinded him to what’s really going on here. I’m trying to help them, not harm them. I only hope he can see the truth.
15
Elijah
“I don't like this.”
We all glance at Cutter. It's at least the sixth time he’s said that since our conversation with Eva last night.
Warwick scoffs at him. “When was the last time you liked anything?”
Rion snorts and shakes his head. “He sure likes being buried balls deep in Valentina.”
Cutter smacks the back of Rion’s head. “You're lucky we're about to go take out these assholes, or you'd be the one in the sights of my 1911.”
I grit my teeth together and tighten my hand around my gun. This is always the worst part—sitting here, waiting to strike—and listening to these guys joke around when innocent lives hang in the balance is making my trigger finger twitchy.
As much as I hate Cutter for what he said the other night about Eva, I have to fucking agree with him now. I don't like this at all. Not one fucking bit. By the time Eva gave Preacher the little information she had about the ship and shipment and he tracked it down, it was far too late for us to intercept them in the water.
Which brought us here, to the port in Chicago, waiting for the ship to dock and for these bastards to make an appearance so we can annihilate them and rescue the girls.
It's less than ideal.
Out on the water, no one's watching. The only eyes out there are the Coast Guard, and what they're capable of monitoring is a fucking joke. Lake Michigan alone covers 22,000 square miles, and if you throw in the rest of the Great Lakes, there are almost 95,000 square miles of water. When we raid a ship, we get on, get what we need, and are gone before they ever even know anything is wrong.
But here…I survey the area again. We're surrounded by a thousand different ways this could go wrong.
Dock security. A passerby seeing or overhearing something. A cop happening to drive by on his route.
It's the kind of position we never want to find ourselves in. And Cutter isn't letting go of the fact that Eva could've told us earlier.
If we weren’t about to risk our fucking lives right now to intercept this shipment of women, he and I might be coming to blows…after he gets done with Rion for that comment about Valentina.
They’re both assholes.
It's not fair to be taking it out on Eva. She had every right to question our motives and be reluctant to share anything with us. If Cutter keeps up this attack on her, we’re going to have a very serious issue. Everyone knows it, too. The way War and Rion put themselves between us tonight proves it. The last thing we need is tension in our own ranks when we’re about to do this take-down very publicly.
Warwick checks his watch. “They should be pulling in soon. Any minute now.”
Preacher’s been monitoring them, and it makes sense they come in this time of night when the docks are quiet and empty. Especially if they’re unloading the type of cargo that we think they are.
No sooner have the words left War’s mouth than Cutter points toward the end of the dock. A green-hulled ship inches in slowly. The Emerald Lady. Exactly what we’ve been waiting for.
And where we wait behind a set of railcars along the train tracks that cut through the port gives us the perfect line of sight to where they will offload.
Someone throws a line over the side and jumps from the deck to tie up the ship. Men hustle back and forth along the deck, yelling, but we’re too far away for me to make out anything they're saying.
Warwick nods at each of us. “We wait until their transportation shows up and they start unloading.”
No shit.
He doesn't need to tell us the plan again. This may be a rush job, but Cutter made it very clear what we were supposed to do. Any chance to eliminate some additional guys involved in this is too important to pass up. If we wait for their drivers, we should get several more of these fuckers.
We hunker down and watch through our NODS night vision glasses as the men jump down onto the dock. Any other ship would have to send its cargo through customs, but these guys have a system. One that makes this pretty damn easy for them by simply paying off dock security and a few workers to turn a blind eye when they come in. There isn’t a single soul in sight. They will just unload and disappear into the night before anyone even knows they were here…
