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Another strangling, semi-ironic laugh almost slipped out. “Yeah, I’ve got that going for me.”
He was silent a moment, then said, “I didn’t think to ask earlier, but do you need any aspirin or anything?”
Molly shook her head. “I’m not sure what the pills were that they forced me to swallow, but I’d rather not take anything else for a while.”
“They were probably some kind of hallucinogen. Or maybe tranqs.”
Reminded of how the pills had made her feel, she stiffened, pushed back from him a little to look up at his barely visible face. “I detest being out of control.”
He went curiously still. “Now?”
“No, when they were doping me.” She remembered the lack of control over her sluggish limbs, how her mind dredged up such ridiculous, vague and misty dreams. Everything was surreal, implausible, insubstantial. “I don’t drink, and I never, ever took drugs. I’ve never even smoked pot. And then to have them force me … It was awful. Why would anyone ever drug themselves on purpose?”
He relaxed again. “No idea.”
She believed him. Dare was a man who enjoyed being in charge. He wouldn’t blunt that ability for the sake of kicks or a quick high.
More to herself than to him, Molly whispered, “I like being me, not a loopy version of me.”
He said nothing to that.
Needing to talk, to drive away the remnants of that dream, she again looked up at him. “The other women … You said you saved one, but there were others there, too. What happened to them?”
“Four of them were apparently local, because as soon as I freed them and told them it was clear, they took off.”
“I hope they’re all right.”
He shrugged. “They seemed to know right where they wanted to go.”
“Those men …” Damn it, she had difficulty finishing thoughts, much less sentences. “They were so cruel, taunting the women, pawing them.”
His muscles seemed to bulge. “The blond woman. They pawed her?”
Icy anger sounded in his tone. “Sometimes, but I got the impression she was too valuable to abuse. They said she’d bring a lot of money.” Now Molly soothed him, clutching his big shoulder. “She’s the one you saved? The one you said is like family?”
“Yes.”
She put her cheek against his chest again. “Where is she now?”
His hug was automatic, for them both. “With her brother. Safe.”
Safe. Such a strange concept, but Molly now knew that no one was ever really safe. “I’m glad. She’s so young.” His warmth seeped into her, making her drowsy again. “I tried talking to her, but she was too afraid.”
Looking down at her, he asked, “And you weren’t?”
“I’ve never in my life known that kind of fear.” The dark and quiet of the small room, the casualness of his touch, made it easier to talk. “Dare, can I tell you something?”
He shifted, almost like he was settling in for something monumental. “Yes.”
How to explain it? A prisoner was a prisoner—but she’d been imprisoned differently. “I wasn’t like the others.”
Rather than question her meaning, he just said, “I know.”
Did he? “Those girls were in their late teens or very early twenties, and they were all stunning. They were kept on one side of the trailer, with more opportunity to bathe. They were given clean clothes. Ridiculously revealing clothes, but still … And they had more food, more water. It was almost like the jerks wanted them to look good. Healthy, I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.”
But Molly frowned at her own words. “I’m not saying they had it any easier than I did. Captivity is captivity, and we were all miserable.”
“But?”
She swallowed. “But … I’m thirty years old.” She twisted to look up at him. “I know I’m plain. And even if I didn’t already know it, I’m not stupid.”
She heard something in his tone when he agreed. “No, you’re far from stupid.”
“They didn’t want me to sell, like they did the others.”
As if he’d already come to that conclusion himself, he said, “No, they didn’t. But then why did they take you? Do you know? Did they say anything?”
They had said plenty, most of it in Spanish. “I’ve gone over it again and again, and I think … I think someone must have paid them to.”
In the quiet security of that small motel room, she counted their breaths, waiting for Dare to react. By small degrees, his muscles again bunched and flexed.
But his hold remained gentle.
When he spoke, he sounded matter-of-fact, as if he believed her without further explanation. “Who?”
Molly squeezed her eyes shut, hating the reality of what her life had become. “That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? I have no idea who I can trust anymore.”
His hand smoothed over her hair, then cupped the back of her skull. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”
Not if she had to sleep alone. Hedging, she asked, “What time is it?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? We’re not on a schedule yet.”
But she hated to further inconvenience him. He hadn’t been paid to come after her. He’d probably rescued her with the thought of dropping her on the other side of the border, someone else’s problem to deal with.
Unfortunately, she had no one else right now. “Do you have a flight to catch?”
Before he answered, he urged her back down in the bed. Her head sank into the soft pillow, and the clean sheets, though cheap and scratchy, smelled good. He stayed close as he all but tucked her in.
She should have been alarmed, having a man bending over her, especially a man of Dare’s size and obvious strength.
Instead, she felt more at ease than she had since being grabbed and stuffed into the back of an old van right in front of her own apartment building. She doubted the quaint community in southern Ohio would ever again feel boring to her.
Dare smoothed the covers over her shoulders. “When I’m on a mission like this, I can’t make plans too far in advance. If anything had gone wrong, if I hadn’t been able to get Alani out of there so easily, or if she’d already been moved, then I’d still be tracking her.”
“You wouldn’t have given up on finding her?”
“Never.”
The unwavering conviction in that one word reassured her. Alani was lucky to have someone like Dare caring for her. “How did you know where to look for her?”
He moved to her side, and when Molly thought he’d leave the bed—leave her—he instead propped his back against the headboard. After stretching out his long legs, he said, “I’ve been in this business a long time.”
“How long? You can’t be much older than me.”
“Thirty-two, so I’ve been at it for more than ten years.”
Fascinating. Molly folded a hand under her cheek and got comfortable. “You started young.”
With a shrug, he said, “It suits me.”
“Adrenaline junkie?” she guessed.
“And a control freak—which means I really understand how you detested being so powerless. I’d have hated it, too.”
But he wouldn’t have been so helpless against them. Somehow, Molly thought Dare would have found a way to not only escape, but to wipe the cretins out for good.
He took her silence for interest, which was okay because she found him intriguing. And listening to him kept her from stewing over her own awful predicament.
“I’m obsessive about details,” he told her. “That’s made me reliable enough to cultivate contacts everywhere, but Mexico is the easiest. For a fee, the coyotes can usually give me information I can’t uncover otherwise.”
“Coyotes? You mean the people who smuggle illegal aliens into the country?”
Dare nodded. “Yeah, but they’re also useful when you need help getting back out of Tijuana. It’s a sad fact that in many areas human trafficking isn’t that much of a secret, so plenty of people are usually in the loop about new acquisitions.”
She thought of the young Caucasian girl who’d been held in the trailer with her. “Your friend Alani had very unique coloring.”
He nodded. “That made it easier for others to remember her, but not that many got to see her. They were saving her for a big sale, I’m sure.”
Wretched, horrible men, to plan such a thing for a young girl. She hated them, all of them.
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Molly could make out Dare’s profile. She remembered that thunk right before he’d joined her in the bed. “You have a gun with you.”
“On the nightstand,” he confirmed. “A Glock 9mm. Does it bother you?”
She shook her head.
When he said, “Good,” she realized that he could see her, too.
“May I see it?”
“You’ve already seen it.”
“I mean … hold it.”
He made a sound that could have passed for humor. “Hell, no.”
Well. Molly didn’t know if she should be offended or not. Then she thought of those awful men…. “Have you ever shot anyone?”
With no hesitation, Dare said, “Yes.”
Her heart pumped hard. She licked her lips, drew a breath. “Did you … shoot the men who were guarding the trailer?”
He looked at her again. After some consideration, he asked, “Why?”
Her voice sounded more raw than she intended, but Molly was helpless to state things any differently. “They’re brutal beasts who take pleasure in hurting women.”
“In hurting you,” he agreed with quiet sympathy.
Her nose stuffed up. Her throat tightened. “They …”
Oh, God, it was almost impossible to talk. Her voice kept breaking, going higher, weaker. But Dare didn’t prompt her, didn’t rush her. He just waited in supportive silence.
“They wanted to make me cry. They wanted to make me beg.” She sniffed, drew a breath. “Just for sport.”
Without a word, as if they knew each other well, he pulled her up against his chest and put his chin to the top of her head. After a few seconds, he said, “You know, Molly, if I could, I’d kill them for you again.”
She jerked, then whispered in awe, “Again?”
“Yeah.”
Dizziness assailed her. “So you did kill them?”
“Damn right.” He looked down at her. “They needed killing.”
“Yes, they did.” The men were gone; they couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again. As the tension eased out of her, her heavy eyelids sank down, almost closing.
Great relief came from the knowledge that they were gone forever.
Dawn began to creep through the heavy drapes, and for the first time in days, Molly greeted it with hope. “Dare?”
“Yeah?”
She hugged him tight. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHILE SIPPING COFFEE and watching her sleep, Dare went over possible scenarios for the day. First on the agenda, he had to decide what to do with Ms. Molly Alexander.
He couldn’t just dump her, because she shouldn’t be alone right now and didn’t seem to have anyone to go to. She refused the police, not that they could be of much help anyway. So, then … what to do with her?
It wasn’t like he could keep her.
He wanted to get back home to check on his girls, and thinking that, he lifted his cell phone and put in a call. Chris Chapey, his personal assistant, answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Dare. I want to hear some good news.”
