Fatal Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sonia watched the FBI Evidence Response Team process her house as she sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Dean’s car. Dean had insisted on his people taking jurisdiction, and she didn’t blame him-the FBI would give priority to her case, not just because it was related to an ongoing federal investigation, but because she was a federal agent targeted by a killer.

Her house. Her case.

She hated feeling like a victim again, and worked on battling the fear that came with the invasion of her sanctuary.

Her cell phone rang. She answered immediately when she saw Duke Rogan’s caller I.D. “You’re on your way?” she asked.

“Left the hospital five minutes ago. Had no trouble getting Riley released. Sean is tailing us, making sure no one is following, and one of your brother’s friends is playing tag team with Sean. I’ll get them to the safe house in Lake Tahoe without trouble, I promise.”

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders. As long as her family was safe, Sonia could focus on finding Greg Vega’s killer. Already her fight was returning.

“Thanks, Duke.”

“What about you?’

She knew what he meant. “It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to get killed.”

“I have no intention of getting killed. I will find and arrest this prick. He picked the wrong person to fuck with.”

Dean slid into the driver’s seat, keeping his door open. Tension filled the car, his body so tight she could feel his anger. She wrapped up the conversation with Duke and told Dean, “Duke Rogan has my family and is heading for Tahoe.”

He said, “The agents I had sitting on the house swear no one entered. But they didn’t arrive until six-fifteen this evening.”

“You think the killer broke in before then?”

“Hell if I know. There’s evidence of a picked lock at the kitchen door. It’s partly hidden from the street. But ERT hasn’t been able to pick up any footprints in the backyard to suggest the killer hopped a fence out of sight. The only activity in the house was when your lights went on at eight p.m.”

“They’re on a timer.”

“ERT is finishing up here. They’ll confirm the tongue belongs to Vega-”

“Like there’s a doubt.”

“We still need confirmation. They’ve printed the place, searched extensively for any other surprises, but so far nothing. The UNSUB wore gloves, left nothing obvious behind. They’re pulling trace evidence and fibers to see what they can find.” He caught her eye. “I told Brian Stone, the team leader, everything.”

Sonia blushed and averted her eyes. She was embarrassed. Not because she and Dean had had sex in her living room, but because it was no longer a private, intimate moment. “I’m sorry.”

Dean grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, so tightly she had to face him. He said, “Don’t apologize. I’m not sorry. I really hope you aren’t, either.”

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

He relaxed. “I had to tell him the truth so they don’t pursue a false lead. Stone is discreet. He’s a former Marine, our head firearms instructor, and he directs our SWAT team.”

“Why is he here with ERT?”

“Half our agents are ERT certified. We pull them for their expertise, and Stone understands psychological warfare.”

“The killer hung the tongue to scare me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.”

“But they broke into your house to do it. Your bedroom. Where you should feel the safest. They want to wear you down, break you, so you make a mistake.”

“Then they’re going to be waiting a long time. I’m not broken over this. Pissed off, a little upset, feeling damn guilty I didn’t see the danger Vega was in. But not broken.”

He reached up and caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and willed her body to relax.

“When can I check into the hotel? I’m beat and”-she looked through the windshield as three agents emerged from her house-“I really hate watching my house being invaded by your people. Or anyone.”

“Ten minutes, okay? And you’re not going to any hotel. You’re coming home with me.”

He jumped out of the car and shut the door. If he thought she was going to argue about it, he was wrong.

* * *

Dean watched Sonia sleep.

It was barely dawn, but Dean could only sleep a few hours before his internal clock woke him at five-thirty Friday morning.

He’d brought Sonia back to his sublet apartment. The FBI agent he was renting from was due back after the Fourth of July, four weeks from now, and Dean had expected to have his case against Xavier Jones wrapped up long before then.

Things had changed. Not only was Jones dead and the entire case spinning out of control, but he didn’t want to leave. Specifically, he didn’t want to leave Sonia.

Sonia had fallen asleep on the way to Dean’s apartment. She’d barely woken up as Dean led her up the four flights of stairs and into bed. She’d brought an overnight bag and barely managed to brush her teeth and pull on a tank top before collapsing into bed. Dean laid next to her and went out as soon as he heard her evenly breathing.

She was still asleep, but she’d kicked off the covers and lay sprawled on her stomach, taking up over half the bed. She had just as much energy while sleeping as she did awake, but once she’d settled in this position an hour ago, she hadn’t moved.

Light crept through the half-closed blinds and cast long, bright orange shadows across her near-naked body. Dean stirred below his waist as his gaze moved up Sonia’s lean body. He wasn’t going to wake her for sex, but he hoped she woke up on her own before they had to rush to leave.

Dean noticed a tattoo on Sonia’s upper arm. It wasn’t cute or feminine, but crude and rough. He leaned forward, his chest tightening when he realized the mark wasn’t a tattoo. Three stars had been burned into her skin. He gently touched them, wishing he could take away the pain she’d suffered. Then he saw a faded scar on her shoulder blade, partly concealed by her tank top. He pushed the material aside, revealing a dark puckered double circle.

Sonia stiffened, and he realized he’d woken her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know they’re ugly, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

He rolled her over to her back and brushed her hair away from her face. “Who did that to you?”

“Which marks? The circles when I was thirteen, or the stars when I was twenty-four?” She pushed him aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled off her tank top. The circles appeared more like a rounded infinity symbol, four inches long and two inches wide. Long, faint scars crisscrossed her back. Dean could scarcely breathe, rage swelling in proportions he’d never felt before.

She stood, crossed to the bathroom, and shut the door.

Dean swore under his breath. He’d never considered that Sonia had been abused as a child beyond what her father had done …

“… or the stars when I was twenty-four?”

Charlie Cammarata branded her? And he hadn’t been thrown into jail? Dean hoped he’d never meet the bastard again, because he didn’t know if he could stop his fist from connecting with Cammarata’s jaw.

He should have realized she’d be sensitive about the scars, but at the same time she’d been so matter-of-fact about her past, he didn’t think. He wouldn’t hurt Sonia for anything. He hoped she knew that.

When the shower turned on, Dean rose and considered joining Sonia. He’d show her that the marks didn’t affect how he felt about her. But thinking about what she had suffered, that her former partner had been involved in her trauma, further enraged him. He didn’t want Sonia to think his anger was at all directed toward her, nor did he want her to think that he felt sorry for her. Sonia would not tolerate pity, and he didn’t want to give her any excuse to walk out.

Instead, Dean walked down the hall to the kitchen to make coffee. A fluffy white cat improbably named Mouse rubbed his lean body against Dean’s legs and meowed loudly. He reached down to scratch Agent Elliott’s cat, who instantly began to purr. The deep rumble was surprisingly soothing and Dean began to relax.

“Maybe I should get a cat,” he mumbled.

Sonia heard Dean walk away from the bathroom door. She almost wished she’d invited him in, but the embarrassment of her overreacting to Dean touching her scars had her hesitating. She owed him an explanation. First, she’d shower.

Sonia stepped into the icy water to wake up, then turned on the hot water. As the shower warmed, she washed. She shouldn’t have been so snippy with Dean about the brand. But even though she thought she’d put what happened behind her, it still hurt to talk about it.

She turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, and brushed her hair back into a wet ponytail. When she stepped from the bathroom, she smelled rich coffee in the air, and the white cat meowed a good morning at her. She absently scratched him behind the ears, then pulled fresh jeans and a black ICE T-shirt from her overnight bag. She didn’t have much variety in her work attire, but she was always comfortable.

She stepped from the bedroom into the main living area. Dean sat at the small table drinking black coffee and reading the newspaper. He wore nothing but boxers and looked like a Greek god, muscles clearly defined even at rest.

He glanced up when she walked in and smiled sheepishly. “I’m usually a better cook, but I haven’t had time to stock up.” He gestured to a box of cereal and milk on the table. He was eating an apple. “I have more of these, plus bananas, oranges, strawberries, melon.”

“Sounds like heaven to me.” She sat down after pouring herself a cup of coffee, added a generous amount of milk to the cup, and sipped. A man who cooks, even if it was just putting out cereal and fruit, was a keeper in her book. She had apples at home. They were squishy and in the bottom of the refrigerator drawer, which looked none too clean.

“I’m sorry,” they said simultaneously.

Dean said, “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s just … I put it behind me. I probably didn’t deal with it well, didn’t want to think about it after the internal affairs investigation and everything that happened ten years ago. I never talk about it. I told Riley after it happened, and he’s the only one who knows. Other than Kane, of course.”

“Kane,” Dean said flatly.

Did he sound jealous?

“Kane saved my life. He’s like a brother to me.”

She paused, wondering what to say and how to say it.

“Sonia.” Dean took her hand. She looked at him, saw the respect in his eyes. No pity, not anger. Just raw affection and honesty. Dean was rock solid. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I want you to know that nothing you say to me will affect how I think of you.”

Her chin quivered, and she swallowed and forced herself to toughen up.

“I should start from the beginning, but it’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Sonia would never forget the night the men came to the village.

“My father was a missionary who traveled from village to village throughout Central and South America teaching the people how to grow crops, how to preserve food. I didn’t see him much until my mother died and he returned to Argentina. I was four. He took me with him on his missions, and for nine years we lived in more villages than I can remember. We stayed four to six weeks before moving on. I didn’t remember anything from my early childhood, this was the only life I knew. And I liked helping people. I became good at figuring out different languages and dialects. I learned about farming and basic medicine.

“My father was cold. From my earliest memories, he never hugged me or talked to me.”

Dean said, “He didn’t talk to you?”

She explained. “He didn’t have a conversation with me. You know, How was your day? Did you meet anyone today? It was all work. Translate for me. Get out to the field and show them how to pull the vegetables without destroying them. I did everything he asked, hoping to find favor-hoping he’d love me. He left for weeks at a time. Left me wherever we were. He told me he had business back in Argentina and he would come back for me. Once he left me in a village for ten months. I thought he was dead. I worked three times as hard as anyone because they didn’t like me. I was too white, too urban, too … I don’t know.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten. That time. I began to wish he’d never come back, then I’d feel so guilty that I didn’t like my own father. I thought he was a good man-someone who helped others-but he hated me. I didn’t acknowledge it then, maybe I didn’t even understand. I thought he blamed me for my mother’s death. He leaves for a mission and six months later returns and she’s dead.”

“What happened to your mother?”

“She died suddenly. She’d always been sad, and my father told me she had cancer. I didn’t understand it then. But one day she was there, the next she wasn’t.”

Sonia rose from her seat ostensibly to refill her coffee, but she needed to move. She paced the length of the great room, from the kitchen to the living area and back to the kitchen.

“I was thirteen when he sold me. It was the middle of the night. I knew what was happening, but I didn’t believe it. Complete denial until he looked at me with contempt and said I had become a liability. That I was too curious.”

There’s an American saying, Sonia. Curiosity killed the cat. You’re damn lucky you’re not a cat right now.

“It took nearly two weeks to get to Texas. There were a lot of us, picked up from small towns as we moved north. Some girls came willingly, excited that they were going to America. That was how I found out about my destination. Some of the older girls said they were mailorder brides being delivered to their grooms. Others were going for work. Others didn’t talk, they were like me. Sold. Or kidnapped. I knew the eager ones were being lied to, but they didn’t believe me or I wasn’t convincing. I tried to figure out why my father gave me away-sold me-and I didn’t know. I thought I’d done something unforgivable, and this was punishment. I blamed myself for something I didn’t know I’d done. But deep down I knew he’d never loved me, never wanted me except to do things for him.” She laughed bitterly. “I had been a slave and didn’t even know it.”

“Sonia-”

She didn’t look at Dean, couldn’t look at him right now. Damn, why was this so hard? Had she convinced herself that she had gotten over the past, only to be lying to herself yet again? Just like she had while growing up with a father who didn’t love her?

“One time I tried to escape. We’d passed a church and I knew it was my only chance to find help.

“That’s when they whipped me.” She thought she was dead. And for a time, she wished they had killed her. But her will to survive was too great. She had to be smarter. Patient. “Then the bastard in charge burned me. I didn’t know then that he was branding me on purpose-I thought it was another punishment.”

She sipped her coffee, her hands steady even though her stomach quivered.

“Izzy and I were separated from the group and taken to a house in Texas, though I didn’t know where we were at the time.”

“Who’s Izzy?” Dean asked.

“I met her on the truck. I don’t know why we were separated from the other girls. Anyway, Izzy and I were locked in a basement. We barely understood each other but we were all we had. I wanted to escape but Izzy had accepted her fate.”

Sonia stared out the partly open blinds into the bright sunrise. “Then one of them came down into the basement. He-” she closed her eyes, but when she saw Izzy’s dead eyes staring at her, she opened her own. Heart racing, she swallowed uneasily and said in a monotone, “He raped Izzy.”

“God, Sonia-”

“Not me. He just wanted me to watch. Told me since I was a virgin I’d make them a lot more money, but this would be my life. He was a brute, so large, so violent and he was hurting her-he killed Izzy. I saw it happening and tried to stop it, but she was already dead.”

She turned to Dean. “I killed him. Shot him with his own gun that had slipped from his pants while he raped and murdered my only friend.”

“You had no choice.”

“I know. I know.” She took a deep breath. “Wendell Knight was the Texas Ranger who found me. My adopted dad’s brother. Wendell took me in because he didn’t want me to face the alternatives-juvenile hall or foster care. Obviously I couldn’t be sent home since authorities were looking for my father.

“When he sold me, I thought I’d done something wrong. Thought I deserved it. In fact, for a while, I thought he’d buy me back, that he’d needed the money for something important, but he’d buy me back when he could. That delusion didn’t last long.

“After the ring was arrested, Immigration tried to find him and couldn’t. I don’t know how hard they tried, I don’t even know if they believed everything I said. Some of the people I talked to looked at me like it was my fault. Some wanted me to disappear, go back to where I came from. Others wanted to help. I testified in court. It was a small town and everyone knew what had happened.”

“I loved Wendell,” Sonia said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “He was the father I should have had. Then one day he was gone. Killed in the line of duty.”

Dean put his hands on her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed that he’d even gotten up from the table. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders, sharing his strength with her. She leaned into him, just for a moment. But she had more to tell.

“Owen and Marianne came for the funeral and asked if I wanted to live in California with them and their two sons. I would have done anything to get away from the rumors and mean kids and the numbing loss I felt. Without Wendell, there was nothing for me in Texas but bad memories.”

“They’re good people, and they obviously love you.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

Sonia smiled warmly. “I’m really lucky. I even went to college. Amazing really, because I never thought I’d have the opportunity. Working for INS was my only goal. I wanted a degree. I wanted to get into the program, and I was going to stop human trafficking. Single-handedly.” She stared at the ceiling. “I was young, idealistic, and stupid.”

Dean said, “There’re a lot of people in our business who start out idealistic. I’m glad.”

“But not you.” She couldn’t picture Dean charging windmills. He was too intense and focused. She turned to face him, saw that he hadn’t changed the way he looked at her even after her story. Her body began to relax as if it had a mind of its own. Or maybe it was because Dean took her hands and held them firmly.

“My dad was a beat cop in Chicago. It’s all he was,” Dead said. “Unlike Owen Knight, who obviously loves his family and spent time with you. My dad was a good cop, but he didn’t know how to be a father or a husband. I came into the FBI a little jaded, I suppose. It wasn’t my first career choice.”

“What was?”

“After getting out of the Marines, I went to college to be a CPA. I was recruited into the FBI. Fifteen years ago, they wanted accountants. And I have a knack for numbers and financial connections.” Dean led her back to the table and poured cereal in a bowl for her.

“Fifteen years and you’re already assistant director?” She took a bite to make him happy, though she was too wound up to eat.

He waved the achievement away. “It’s not just tenure, it’s politics. I was successful on a few high-profile investigations early on, rose through the ranks quickly. In a way I wish I hadn’t. I prefer the grunt work over being in charge.”

“You’re a natural leader,” Sonia said. “It’s obvious.”

“So are you.”

She shook her head. “I’m learning, but …” she stopped. Did she really want to go into this?

Dean took her hand and kissed it. The rising sun cast a filtered array of orange and yellows through the blinds. She’d never felt safer.

Sonia took a breath and said, “When I finished my training, I was assigned to El Paso. Charlie Cammarata was my training agent. We worked together for eighteen months. The first year was my training year; the second year was as his partner.

“I worshipped him, I admit it. He was smart, brave, compassionate. He knew about my past, and said it made me a better person and a better agent. The Knights loved me, but honestly? We never talked about what my father did. For the first time, I felt I could talk about it, and Charlie listened. He made me feel powerful. Like I could make a difference. I trusted him.

“Eighteen months after I became an agent, Charlie told me we were going undercover in Costa Rica. The INS wanted two agents to go in to gather intelligence on a human trafficking ring. Both Charlie and I spoke Spanish fluently, and I knew dozens of dialects. All those years living in remote villages, I learned to pick up languages easily. I was excited. This was my first real chance to do something bigger and more important than border patrol.

“What I didn’t know was that Charlie had no sanction from the INS. He told them he was taking a vacation. I learned later that he told people that he and I were involved and wanted to take a vacation together.” She shook her head. It still angered her how manipulative Charlie had been, and how readily she’d believed him.

“So we were in this bar and I thought we had backup. I was a waitress, and I took great notes. Every night I wrote down names, numbers, towns, destinations, everything I overheard.

“Ten days later, the bar was closing and I was waiting for Charlie to walk me back to the room we’d rented. He didn’t show, and my boss in the bar was an asshole. He kicked me out, though it was late and the neighborhood was dicey. Still, I was young and stupid. I had no gun, no identification because Charlie told me that would be a giveaway. He gave me a can of mace and with that in hand, I started walking.

“I was grabbed by a meaty thug not twenty feet from the bar entrance. I maced the guy, then someone else grabbed me from behind, and the next thing I know, I’m in a truck, and we’re moving. And there are dozens of girls with me.”

“Where was Charlie?”

Sonia closed her eyes. “I didn’t know it then, but he’d hidden in the alley and watched the whole thing. I overheard the men saying my brother had sold me to them, that I was a virgin and worth a lot of money. I didn’t believe them. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

“No one came to rescue me. We were heading south, toward Panama. I thought Charlie was following. He was, but not to save me. He was mapping the route because two months before, a dozen girls from a Costa Rican orphanage had been kidnapped and he didn’t know where they were taken, but he knew which ring sold them. He’d sold me into that ring, hoping they’d lead him to the orphans.”

“He sold you and didn’t tell you his plan?”

She shook her head. “I was stupid.”

“No. You were following orders. You were young and you believed your senior agent.”

“Maybe, but in hindsight I should have seen it. Don’t tell anyone, it’s classified, yada yada.”

“Sonia, don’t blame yourself for the crimes of Charlie Cammarata,” Dean said firmly.

“I don’t. But I do blame myself for being blinded by someone I trusted and considered a mentor and a friend.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on yourself.”

Maybe Dean was right, but she’d never forget how stupid and terrified she felt when she realized she was once again a prisoner. She continued. “Two nights later, they took us to a farm outside Ustupo. That’s when they branded us. All of us. Two, three, or four stars depending on our destination. I learned later that three stars was for a brothel on an island off the coast of Venezuela. Two stars was for a slave-labor camp in Brazil, and four stars was for domestic servants-indentured servants-for some wealthy families in Chile. They like to split the groups up because there’s less chance of us bonding and trying to escape if we don’t know who we’ll be with.

“But because I was a virgin, I had a detour. I was separated from the girls after we were branded and sent to a small town outside Panama City, where I was put up in a crumbling motel and told to wait for the man who would, and I quote, ‘fuck me good.’

“And you know what? I was scared shitless, but even though I was terrified, I still thought okay, this is what Charlie is waiting for, to arrest this guy. I’m the bait. I wish he’d told me, but it’s okay because I knew where all those girls were going, and as soon as Charlie came in and took out this guy, we’d rescue the girls. A little scar on my arm was a small price to pay. I already had so many, one more wouldn’t matter.”

Sonia didn’t realize she was crying until the tears dripped off her chin. She looked down and squeezed her eyes shut. “The guy came in. He looked at me and said that I was too old to be a virgin. He was enraged, thought he’d been cheated. I found out later he’d paid two thousand American dollars for a virgin. He would have paid five thousand if I was under sixteen. Bastard.”

“Sonia-”

She put up her hand to stop Dean from talking. She wouldn’t be able to get it out if he tried to soothe her or tell her it wasn’t her fault. “He thought I was nineteen, though I was twenty-four. It happened so fast … He tore the dress I’d been ordered to wear. And that’s when I knew I was on my own.”

“He didn’t-”

“No. He didn’t rape me. He tried.” Tried was an understatement. She had run around the room, had screamed her head off, but no one came. She’d tried for the door, but he’d stopped her. She hit him, kicked him, and he used her as a punching bag. He told her to lie down and spread for him. It was humiliating and disgusting and she would have rather died than let him touch her, let alone rape her.

She said softly, “I killed him.”

Dean clutched both of her hands in his. “How?”

“I had five minutes alone in the room before he came in. There wasn’t a private bathroom, just a sink with a small mirror on the wall above it. I removed it, hoped no one would notice, and cracked it in several pieces. I hid the shards in strategic places.” Her voice hitched. This was harder than she’d thought. “I never told Riley this. I told him the big-picture stuff, but never … never how close he came.

“He had me on the bed and I pretended to accept my fate.”

She’d never forget his hands on her, his foul, fishy breath, his crudity. He’d promised to teach her how to be a good whore, after he made her one.

“And when he didn’t expect it, I took one of those hidden shards and stabbed him in the neck.”

There’d been so much blood. It spurted-she’d hit a major artery. He was dead in minutes.

“I didn’t know what to do. I ran, tried to find help, but I was so sick. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I collapsed and was taken to the hospital. I needed surgery because he’d beaten me pretty badly and there was internal bleeding. It was a small hospital, and they removed my uterus. I don’t know, if I’d been in the U.S., if it could have been saved or not. I’ll never know.”

She looked at Dean for the first time since she envisioned herself back in that awful room. He had moved closer to her, his hands entwined tightly with hers. He brought them to his lips and held them there, his eyes red with suppressed emotion.

“As soon as I was out of surgery and conscious, they arrested me for murder. Forget the phone calls, I’d apparently killed someone of importance. I found out later he was a popular local politician and the father of nineteen kids.”

“What did they say when you told them you were a U.S. Immigration cop?”

“At first, they didn’t believe me. This town had their own law. Conditions in their jail weren’t-stellar.” She’d killed Sheldon Rasmussen, a man with a wife and kids. She paid the price. “They didn’t believe that I’d been kidnapped. One of the cops convinced others that I was an assassin. Rasmussen was a criminal, but he provided for the town. His own mini kingdom. Then, I think they did finally believe me, but were scared of possible repercussions. It would have been easier to make me disappear than to face the U.S.’s wrath. The fact that no one came around asking about me made my ‘story’ less believable.”

“I can’t believe he left you.” Dean’s voice was rough with anger. He kissed her hands again, holding them so tightly her fingers almost went numb.

“Do you know who saved me from being hanged?”

“Don’t tell me Charlie.”

“Indirectly.”

“Do I want to hear this?”

“You asked about Kane Rogan. This is where he comes in. I was in prison, I wasn’t getting a trial, and I thought I was going to die. I didn’t get a phone call, I didn’t get to talk to anyone. Charlie hadn’t followed me from the farm. He didn’t know where I’d been taken. He was tracking the other girls. He called Kane-they’d been in the Marines together-and told him what happened. Some of what happened. Kane specializes in hostage rescues. He tracked me down, broke me out of prison, and brought me back to El Paso. I asked him where Charlie was and he thought I already knew. He said, ‘Charlie said you’d gotten yourself in trouble. Tell me what happened.’ I told him everything.”

Dean massaged her palms. He didn’t say anything, but she felt his support through his touch.

“I thought Kane was going to kill him. Really. He ended up testifying on my behalf during the OPR hearings.”

“On your behalf?”

When Sonia had first heard Charlie’s lies, she’d been devastated. Now it just made her angry. “Charlie had fabricated a story. A lot of stories. Suffice it to say, he was a hero. He saved all those girls who’d been branded with me, and he found the dozen girls kidnapped from the orphanage. No one wanted to believe that he set me up as bait so he could gather intelligence. But Kane believed me, and his word went a long way with OPR. If you ever meet him, you’ll understand why.”

“Sonia,” Dean said, “I’m glad you told me.”

She breathed easier, gave him a half-smile. “Me, too.”

He leaned over and kissed her softly, holding her face with his hands. “You are amazing, sweetheart.”

Dean’s respect and affection empowered Sonia, as if sharing the entire sordid story had purged the last of her anger and resentment and self-pity. She’d been holding back for so long, keeping the details of that unspeakable time locked deep inside, not realizing how it still haunted her. Now, her heart felt lighter, she was stronger. Because Dean drew the truth out like no one else had been able to.

She said, “I kinda like you.”

“I kinda like you, too.” He kissed her again. No urgency, just a deep affection like nothing Sonia had known before.

He reluctantly pulled back. “It’s getting late. I brought over the files on Rio Diablo and some of the older documentation I have on Jones, if you want to take a look while I take a quick shower.”

“I’ll do that.”

Dean pulled her from the chair and brought her lips to his. Lightly, a breath of a touch, but Sonia’s body tingled in response. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, her head nestled between his neck and shoulder. Just held her without moving for a long, peaceful moment.

“Okay. I’m going to get in the shower.” He made no move to leave her. He kissed her head, her cheek, her neck, back to her lips. “Now,” he said, his voice husky. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “The files are on the coffee table.”

“Thanks.”

She watched him walk down the hall. She was tempted to follow, but there was a time to play and a time to work.

She crossed to the living room. Mouse, the cat, followed her and jumped into her lap the minute she sat on the couch in front of the file box. She absently rubbed his fur as she took the lid off.

Most of the files were numbers. Rows and rows of numbers-they looked like printouts from tax returns or corporate filings. This wasn’t her forte. She flipped through those quickly, looking at only the names.

She put those files aside and pulled another one. And another. The shower went off and she didn’t see herself making any inroads.

She put the files back, moved the box, and looked at the files that were beneath it. They were marked THOMAS DANIELS. Smitty. The guy who had unwittingly clued Dean in to Jones’s shady dealings.

She opened the thin file and stared at a black-and-white photograph of nine men and a woman who looked familiar, but Sonia couldn’t put a name to her face. She recognized Xavier Jones and Smitty in the picture. She also noted Pieter Huffmann, a German who was wanted by Interpol and ICE for trafficking.

And she recognized one other man.

Sonia’s mouth went dry, and her hands began to shake. She flipped the photograph over; there was nothing written on the back. No date or time stamp. Nothing to tell her when or where it was taken.

She turned it again and stared at the familiar face again, bile rising from her stomach. The picture had been taken outside. Most of the men held big-game fish of all sizes; a huge blue marlin dominated the picture, half-obscuring the bastard in the center. Her hands and face became clammy, and she bent over to stem the nausea that continued to rise. Mouse jumped off her lap with an annoyed meow and reminded her that she was safe, safe in this apartment with Dean in the next room.

Only in her mind, only in her memories and nightmares could he hurt her.

“What’s wrong, Sonia? Are you feeling okay?” She hadn’t heard Dean return over the ringing in her ears.

He put a hand on her back. “You’re shaking. Sonia, talk to me.”

“This picture.” She still clutched it in her hands.

“Yes, I told you about it. It’s what-”

She interrupted. “Do you know who this is?” She straightened and tapped the man in the middle, the man with the blue marlin.

“No, we don’t have an I.D. on three of those men, him included.”

“When was this picture taken?”

“Sonia, what’s going on?”

“When!”

“We believe seven to ten years ago.”

“I know who this is. This is my father. My real father-Sergio Martin-who sold me twenty years ago.”