Page 28

It was cold and smelled sharply of menthol. I warmed it between my palms first. Even as I leaned in, I could smell my soap on her skin and, beneath it, her own scent, a heady combination I did not need. I massaged the cream into her back in slow, careful circles, ignoring the buzz of my phone. Her skin was hot beneath my thumbs. A muscle flinched, then softened.

She sighed in her sleep and curled toward the warmth of my hands, her knees drawing up, the rope whispering over the sheets.

I should have sent her with the others. But I needed her to survive.

Survive without suffering.

Police and soldiers did not leave any of my family alive. I had made a mercy of knowing my father died from multiple bullet wounds. What was done to the women was a cruelty beyond imagination. I never set foot on that land again. I never would.

I lowered the shirt carefully, wedged the chair beneath the door handle and checked the window. I lay down beside her on top of the spread, fully dressed, my pistol within reach. The mattress sagged between us. Her bound hands were tucked beneath the pillow, and her chest rose and fell with each breath. The red light flashed over us, off and on, off and on, over the wall and the ceiling and her sleeping face.

Would she have been used and discarded? Tortured and killed? She was young and vibrant. Those eyes had screamed for freedom. They had burned with fire.

They would have tried to crush her spirit.

Ruin her soul.

Take her light.

I wiped my eyes.

She would have been taught to endure.

I knew what endurance cost. I had read the transcripts.

I ignored the buzzing in my pocket.

❦ ❦ ❦

The buzzing woke me. I reached for my phone, but took my gun with me.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the girl. Her chest still rose and fell. Morning light streaked through the gap in the curtains, white and without any red. Dust turned slowly in the beam. Beyond the walls the world had started again, a truck braking on the frontage road, a door slamming, the distant hiss of the freeway. Her complexion was deep and warm, and it caught the light like satin.

I left the gun between us and raised my hand to touch her cheek. It looked so soft.

My phone began to buzz again and I dropped my hand.

I checked the loops at her wrists first and found her skin warm. Then I eased off the bed, careful of the springs, and went into the bathroom. The tiles were cold under my bare feet. I answered the call as I closed the door.

“What? What do you want?” I hissed.

“Me? What did you do?” Zero barked.

“I did exactly what you wanted me to.” I kept my voice to a whisper.

“Why are you whispering?”

I did not respond. The silence grew.

“You’re with someone.”

“What do you want? The job is done.”

“A woman?”

“Pay me.”

“No. You took a woman from the shipment?”