The team leader eyes us all. “There’s no room for error. You fuck up and you’re on your own.”
“Stop your yappin’ and let’s get on with it.” It’s good Lucky spoke first because what I might’ve said could’ve got me kicked off the mission.
A couple hours later, a scowling SEAL holds up his stopwatch. “Slow, too fucking slow. You got to find them and load them into the van. I’m giving you nine fucking minutes. You took ten. Sorry, you’re dead.”
My Aussie pal grumbles. “Bloody hell. It’d help if we knew how many guards we’ll be dealing with.”
Panting, I’m too out of breath to voice my agreement. The buzzer sounds, the door to the mock palace-sized home opens, and I raise my weapon, loaded with blanks.
My friends and I move as one. C4 takes down the outside door. Two cardboard German shepherds pop up so I shoot them. When two men with rifles aim at my chest, Jack fires and red paint explodes.
“Go, go, go.” He clears the first floor, Lucky and I take the hallway, and Slate dashes the stairs.
Last time, I got red-balled halfway to the bedroom. This time, fake blood spatters when an armed man jumps out from behind a large armoire.
The cursing upstairs tells me my pal didn’t fare much better.
“Again!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam
My botched escape over, the Arab shackles my feet but he needn’t have. Covered in a black bourka, I’m unable to see, breathe, or walk. Shit, if I was forced to wear this in public, I’d refuse to go out or go postal and start shooting.
I have no idea what day it is or how long we’ve been held captive. The good news is none of us have been sexually assaulted. That’s also the bad news. They’re obviously saving us for something special.
Over the last few days, I’ve become close to many of the young captives. Most are runaways from foster care and were living on the streets. Behind me, the oldest sighs as we walk single file down a dark alley. “I almost hope we get to stay in Dubai.”
Holding up a mile of fabric, I turn my head and readjust the headpiece to see out the slit. “Won’t you miss your life in the states?”
“Not really. I didn’t have a john to provide me with steady work. I heard they even give their girls a place to sleep, a blanket and a meal every day.”
My God, her teenage dreams are so few, my heart breaks. I can’t imagine being totally alone, with no way out except prostitution. I swear, if I get free, I’m going to help these teens and others like them.
Maybe Suds and Sam can donate some of our earnings or I can get Rose and Mia to teach them how to style hair. I don’t know, but for sure, I have to do something.
We exit the deep shadows of the buildings only to be divided into two groups and shoved into idling limos. Minutes later, we drive along a thin strip of land, lined with billionaire’s beach homes. The salty breeze takes me back to Coney Island where I used to ride the roller coaster as a kid. I’m guessing we’re on one of the islands that make up the palm tree I saw as we flew over Dubai.
Each walled-in estate boasts a pool, a balcony, and huge sea-facing windows. The overabundance of wealth in the city rivals Fifth Avenue or Rodeo Drive. If it weren’t for the tie-wrapped wrists and heavy bourka, I could imagine myself on a dream vacation. Unfortunately, I fear the worst is yet to come.
An automatic weapon forces us out of the vehicle where we follow a well-armed, khaki-uniformed man into one of the identical mansions. In the living area, three more guards stop playing video games and eye me up and down. Damn, you would think, covered in heavy cloth from head to toe, I wouldn’t feel naked but I do.
From there, we’re led upstairs into a bedroom ten times the size of my apartment. Floor to glass windows look out onto the sparkling sea. Along one wall, lacy gowns hang on the walk-in closet’s folding doors.
Below, a uniformed man in sunglasses stands by the pool, scouring the horizon with his back to the building.
It’s too high to climb down but if I made a rope from sheets…
Khaki-man grunts in Arabic and others join him in the hall. They move aside for a rotund middle-aged woman in a silk pantsuit. Once she’s inside with us, they shut the door.
As the lock clicks, she peers down her nose. “Shower. All of you.”
Sienna sidles next to me and pointedly glances at the see-through harem apparel.
Yeah, I get it. Those are for us and they mean business.
Suds? Where the fuck are you? I left a wad of shirt at the airfield and another in the hotel but I’m beginning to realize it’s all been for naught. Surely, by now, the FBI has joined the search. They have the where with all to find us.
