Invincible

11.

The bed shook and awoke me from sleep. My first thought was that it was an angry wave, but it was Annie shaking. She ran to the bathroom and vomited. Vic gave her more meds and she calmed down for a bit. He went to the living area to watch satellite television and Kyle was on the deck manning the ship.

I warmed some chicken broth in a mug and handed her a banana, which was about the extent of my cooking skills. “You need to eat. Here.”

She took a sip of the broth and relaxed into the chair. “I thought I was dreaming. I can’t believe I’m really free. When we moved islands, I thought that my one chance was gone forever. How did you find me?”

I studied the girl sitting in front of me. She already looked different to me than she had when I’d last seen her in the brothel. She seemed lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her soul. But her skin was pale and her hair was lifeless. She still had a long way to go before she fully returned to the land of the living. “I went back to the brothel in Curaçao— it was burnt to the ground. We searched the island for you and Kyle got a tip that you girls were moved to Aruba so we came here but couldn’t find you. You’d told me that the last thing you remembered on the ship was being in the elevator with that drummer. He was playing at a bar and I followed him. I thought I saw you in the window, so I took a chance and here we are.”

Sweat dripped from her forehead. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing. How can I ever thank you? My dad, he has money. . .”

I raised my hand up. “Stop. I’m not interested in money. In fact, the only way you can thank me is never mentioning our involvement in your rescue.”

She winced. “Oh, okay. I get it. You don’t want to be associated with me. I understand.”

“That’s not it. We all need to be anonymous to do our jobs in the Teams. And this was off record; we didn’t get permission from our command. We could get disciplined and ruin our careers.”

Her eyes closed and her jaw was shaking. “So I have to lie about how I was rescued?”

“I’m not asking you to lie. But I’d prefer you leave our names out of it. Our names and pictures can’t be plastered over the media or we’ll get kicked out of the Teams. We can’t exactly go undercover if the world knows our identities.”

She took a small bite of the banana. “I get it. I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

I touched her shoulder. “Hey. Don’t say that. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry about any of it. How I met you, that you told me your name, that I found you. I’m only sorry that I didn’t torture the motherfuckers who took you.” I paused … Did I owe her an apology for hiring her to blow me? “Look Annie, I’m not an asshole. I’m a SEAL. I was meant to be in that brothel that night, to find you, to save you. We’d been deployed for seven months, I don’t have a girlfriend or a wife. I’m not a cheater. I didn’t mean to disrespect you or anything.”

She laughed. And for the first time I saw a sexy glint in her eye. “Don’t apologize. You saved me. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Maybe I even enjoyed it.” She glanced down at my pants.

I had to remind myself that she wasn’t flirting with me—that her words came from some kind of survival mechanism where she was probably taught to come on to the clients to get better tips. My thoughts turned to how great it would feel to have her moist mouth wrap around me again. I tried to push the memory of the blowjob she had given me out of my head.

Her eyes seemed distant. “Kyle didn’t have to kill Jose.”

“Are you fucking serious? I wished I’d popped that motherfucker myself, but I was carrying you. My only goal was to get you out of there. How can you even say that?”

I couldn’t read her. Her mouth was turned downward in a frown yet she was nodding her head. “Jose wasn’t that bad compared to the others. He took care of me.”

This poor fucking girl was identifying with her aggressor. I’d studied that shit. “Annie, he was a fucking pimp. He sold you.”

“I know. But sometimes he was nice to me." She laughed and it was hollow. "Sorry, it’s just hard for me.”

Jesus, this girl needed some serious psychotherapy. I knew she’d be messed up, but she seemed to care more about Jose’s well-being than her own.

“Can I go on the deck?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask me permission to do anything. You’re safe here. They aren’t going to find you. But you’re not leaving this boat under any circumstances. Once you’re better, we’ll take you straight to the embassy.”

Pushing herself off the chair, she walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek. “I know I’m safe. You’re here.”

She climbed down the stairs to the deck and just stood there in the breeze, breathing in the Caribbean air. I wanted to ask her a thousand questions, about her life before she was taken, about the horror she had endured, but I was in too deep already.