Hailey's Truth (40 page)

“No—“

He squeezed her lower jaw until she was sure he would break her bone. “Shut
up
I said.”

Tears trailed down her cheeks as she trembled.

“It does you no good to deny your deceit. I
know
you placed a call to Mr. Matthew’s phone right here from this very yacht.” Donte struck her again, stinging her tender cheek. “Right here from this room. From this phone. My phones are monitored, Hailey. Your bloody hand and fingerprints don’t lie as your mouth does.” He smeared his wet palm over her throbbing cheek, pressing hard against her wound. “You are sloppy, Hailey. Sloppy and stupid. For that alone, you will die. Because you lied, because you’re a traitor, you will die painfully.”

She slammed her eyes shut as the first pitiful sob escaped her throat. Donte dragged her to his desk. Hailey watched as he pulled a long knife from his top drawer.

Oh, God, it was over. It was over. As she stood waiting for the plunge of blade, she thought of Austin. Only Austin.

Donte raised his hand, and she closed her eyes. Her breath tore in her throat until Donte laughed. “Do you think it will be that easy?”

She opened her eyes as he cut at the fabric of her tank top, at the strap of her bra. She struggled against him. “Please, no.”

“Oh, yes. Yes indeed, Hailey. I planned to do this all along. Kinder of course, gentler when I thought you were someone else. But now I’ll use you as you’ve used me. Be still.”

She struggled.

“Be
still
.” He brought the blade to her throat.

Because she had no choice, she did as she was told.

Donte set the knife on the desk. “I’ve wondered what you look like, what you feel like, what you taste like. Today I will finally find out.” He skimmed his finger along her collarbone, pulled at the tattered strap of her bra until her breast tumbled free. He smiled. “You are indeed beautiful.” He brushed his palm over naked skin, against her nipple.

She clenched her fist, wanting to scratch at his face, wanting to grab the knife and plunge the blade into his heart.

“You can try, Hailey. You can try to take that knife, but it will be the last move you ever make. If you satisfy me, I might keep you around until I get tired of you.”

“I would rather die.”

He pinched her nipple between his fingers. “Oh, you’ll die all right, but not until I’ve had all I want from you.” Donte pressed his lips to hers.

Hailey refused to respond.

Donte’s teeth sunk into her lip, until she was sure he would bite it off. The bright, sharp pain and metallic taste of her own blood pitched her stomach, and she vomited. Hailey stared in horror as yellow bile mixed with blood, staining the pristine white of Donte’s shirt.

“You little bitch.” He shoved her back.

Hailey’s head connected with the corner of the heavy leather chair. Her vision dimmed, going gray, as Donte leaned forward and cracked his fist against her cheekbone. “We’re not finished here. We’ll pick up where we left off when I can stand the sight of you. Rio, get in here. Get her out of my face.”

Rio burst through the door and yanked her up as he’d done several times before. He dragged her down the hall, opened another door, pushed her through, shut it, and twisted the lock.

Hailey lay on the floor, hurt, trembling, terrified, but grateful to be alive. She stared at the door, attempting to plot her next move, but she couldn’t think. Her brain was fuzzy. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew shock was setting in.

She closed her eyes, desperate to get a grip on her scattered thoughts. Sheer exhaustion took her under before she could take her next breath.

Hailey blinked, sucking in a breath against the pain. She pressed her fingers to the throbbing in her temple, to her tender cheek.
Where am I?
She sat up quickly, closed her eyes, fighting a rush of dizzying nausea. Slowly, she opened them again and scanned the room, taking in the elegant periwinkle curtains draping large windows, the beautiful dark wood of the bedroom furnishings, the plush bed she hadn’t had the energy to crawl to.

Hailey rolled to all fours, instantly regretting it. The raw wounds on her hands and knees stung with the pressure of her weight. As quickly as she dared, she eased herself up on watery legs and gasped.

Four girls—the teens from the missing posters, huddled in a corner. Huge haunted brown eyes stared at her. Long, tangled black hair hung against stained shirts. Purple welts and bruises marred their beautiful olive skin.

Compassion flooded Hailey as she took a step closer and all four flinched. “Um, hello.” She shook her head, had to clutch at the bed as the movement made her woozy. “
Hola
.
Me llamo
Hailey,” she continued in poor Spanish. “I want to help you.”

One of the girls started to cry.

Hailey stepped closer. “It’s okay. Everything will be all right.” She struggled to make sentences from the handful of phrases she’d used on a daily basis with Project Mexico. Another girl began to sniffle. Hailey crouched in front of them, making her knees sting. “Help is coming. We must stay strong and quiet.”

“Who will come?” one of them asked, trembling.

“My friends. One was a policeman, the other a…” she didn’t know the word, so she saluted like a soldier.

“When?”

“I don’t know, but soon. They told me before Donte hurt me.”

The girls all shrunk when she said Donte’s name.

Hailey got to her feet, wincing as her body ached. She wandered to the window, stared out at the island—a sight that must’ve been pure torture for the girls. Home was so close, but so far away.

She had to believe Austin and Jackson were out there, coming up with a plan to rescue her. Had she been clear enough in her text? Did they know Donte held her on the yacht? Were they looking at the massive boat right now? She studied the horizon, the light fading as night swallowed day. How long would Donte wait before he wanted her? Would he kill her after he finished raping her? She glanced at the island again, hoping Austin and Jackson could
feel
where she was being kept. There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t cower in the corner and wait to die.

Hailey glanced around the room, searching for a solution. What could she do to save her own life and the lives of the terrified girls behind her? Her gaze stopped on the light switch as she remembered a movie she’d watched one night in Ethan’s game room. Austin had been there too, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, so far from her reach, but not nearly as far as he was right now.

Hailey turned to the girls. “Does the guard come in here?” She gestured to the shadow of feet under the door.

“Not unless he wants to have us.”

Hailey nodded. “Can you bathe? Are there towels in the bathroom?”

“Yes, they let us shower. Sometimes they watch,” the smallest girl said, sniffling.

Hailey dashed to the bathroom and stared at the dirty disorder as she grabbed a filthy towel. She brought it to the bed, rolled it, and walked quietly to the door.

“What are you doing?” One of the girls rushed to her feet. “He will kill us if he thinks we are trying to escape.”

“What is your name?” Hailey asked.

“Angelica.”

“Angelica, I’m trying to help us. I want to make it easier for my friends to find us.”

Angelica hesitated before she nodded and stepped back.

Hailey carefully moved closer to the door, crouched down, and laid the towel against the wood, covering the crack.

She hustled to the window again, peered left and right, checking for an armed guard on the deck below. No one was there. Cold sweat dripped down her back as she hurried to the light switch. With trembling fingers she flicked the lever off and on, differentiating her pattern, hoping to draw attention to anyone who might be watching from shore. They were miles out, but it was worth a shot in the fading light.

Hailey continued for several minutes, until Angelica’s twin burst into tears. “Please stop,” she sobbed. “Please—they will find out, and we will die.”

Hailey looked over, realizing the young girl was shaking in sheer terror. “Okay. I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Either Austin and Jackson had seen her signal or they hadn’t.

Hailey tossed the towel back in the bathroom, turned, and gasped as she caught her own reflection in the small mirror. She hardly recognized her own face. She skimmed fingers over her dark purple cheek, swollen double its normal size. Her eye was nearly sealed shut, her lip a mess of puffy, bloodied skin.

She glanced at her arm, at the three sets of welts Jeremy, Rio, and Donte’s hands had made on her skin. From shoulder to elbow, she was black-and-blue.

This was the brutality Austin spoke of. This was what the men on this boat were capable of—and surely more. They were truly monsters, and she had defended them, time and time again. Closing her eyes, Hailey sighed. She was the worst kind of fool. She’d lost Austin for this.

The thought sunk her spirits so low she had to force it away. She couldn’t let Austin enter her mind, or she would crumble. The young girls in the next room needed kindness—a gentle touch. She would be there until help came to take them away.

Chapter 25

A
USTIN SAT IN THE BLACK of night, listening to the water lap against the boat as he stared at the bright lights of the massive yacht a mile away. He and his team had been floating for hours, waiting to move forward with their plan to extract five hostages. It was easier to think of her that way: not as Hailey Roberts, the woman he loved, but as a faceless individual in need of help.

Austin had shut himself down, methodically, ruthlessly, after he’d received Hailey’s brief phone call. The terror strangling her voice had all but undone him. Her breathy shudder as she said his name, as she told him she needed help, even now, tried to slip through his barrier of cold. Austin closed his eyes, feeling helpless, but opened them just as quickly, too afraid to take his eyes from Hailey’s window.

When she hung up abruptly, his mind catapulted him to the worst-case scenario. He’d been certain the guards discovered Hailey trying to save herself and killed her for her trouble. Grief, so sharp, so all consuming, had threatened to smother him as he hid along the dilapidated docks, running surveillance on the yacht.

It had taken all he had to put the binoculars back to his face, to let himself hope that Hailey was still alive. Twenty minutes later, when the lights flashed on and off every few minutes in the bottom row of windows, Austin had struggled with tears, knowing she had to be.

He and Hailey had watched a movie—months ago—in Ethan’s game room. As the credits rolled they’d argued over the realism and effectiveness of using a light switch as a distress signal.

“Donte and his top men just took their seats in the dining room,” Jackson said into his transmitter.

“Copy that,” Tucker Campbell said from another boat anchored a mile west. “From my standpoint, I’m counting ten guards total on port and starboard side and an additional four at bow and stern. We’re in for an interesting night.”

Jackson started the engine, accelerated them three-quarters-of-a-mile—the closest they would get and hopefully not draw suspicion from the guards. “Hunter, Austin, are you ready to go?”

Hunter stood in his wetsuit, zipped himself up. “Let’s do this.”

Austin checked their air gauges again, then handed Hunter his tanks. “Remember, no lights, due west, dive deep the closer we get to the yacht. We’ll separate, plant the explosives, and regroup. Thirty minutes to extract. Failure’s not an option. Tucker, you ready?”

“I’ll be watching for you.”

Ethan glanced up from his computer. “I’ll wait for your signal before I jam the electronics. You should have radio silence for approximately ten minutes before someone figures it out. I can’t guarantee you more.”

Hunter sat on the edge of the boat. “All hell will break loose after that.”

Jackson slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Collin just checked in. He’s fueled up and filed the flight plan. If the shit hits the fan, we meet at the airport in exactly one hour.”

Austin joined Hunter on the edge. “Stay together until I signal.”

Hunter nodded as Ethan stood and handed off two bags. “Careful, boys.”

Austin and Hunter bit down on their regulators and leaned back into the water.

Austin was engulfed by black warmth. He and Hunter both pressed on their underwater navigators. Dim neon lit the space around them. Hunter gave Austin a nudge on the arm, the signal that the cord attaching them for their blind dive west was still intact.

It didn’t take long to reach the glow of lights radiating from the yacht. Austin glanced to his left, met Hunter’s eyes through their masks, and gave a thumbs up. Hunter detached the cord at their weight belts and dove deeper as Austin did the same. They separated, Hunter heading to the stern, Austin moving toward the bow.

When Austin estimated he was at center, he unzipped his bag, carefully freed an explosive, and mounted it against the yacht’s bottom. He moved several feet to the left, planting another charge opposite the plastic he’d already secured. Swimming to the bow, he repeated the process, wired the device, and set it. He glanced at his watch. They had exactly thirty minutes.

Austin swam quickly to the stern, knowing Hunter would be waiting. Within seconds, he spotted Hunter’s thumbs up as they rose to the surface, ready to begin the next phase of their plan.

Austin spit the regulator from his mouth before he pulled himself into the small powerboat anchored off the yacht, took the key from the engine, and zipped it into his bag. With his task complete, he eased soundlessly into the water, swimming to Hunter’s side. He pulled the regulator from his mouth again. “You ready?” he whispered.