Izzy laid down on the mattress. Carlton unzipped his pants and took out his penis; Sonia turned her face into the wall, eyes tightly shut. Izzy wasn’t fighting him, but she was crying. How many times had men forced her?
Sonia wasn’t naive-she knew enough about what happened when young girls were lured by promises of jobs and money. They were forced into labor or prostitution. Izzy had been part of this life for a long time, ashamed and broken. Sonia wanted to help her, but she couldn’t even save herself from the fate that awaited her.
Sonia hadn’t been lured. She’d been sold because she’d discovered her father’s true mission. Mission!
“Look!” Carlton demanded.
Sonia trembled, her arms wrapped around her head. Izzy cried out and Sonia screamed.
“I told you to watch,” Carlton sneered as he raped Izzy. “Watch or I’ll hurt her. Or maybe you like that.”
Sonia reluctantly dropped her arms. Carlton had Izzy on her face and was raping her from behind. He was a giant compared to the teen. Tears of rage and fear escaped and Sonia wiped them away. She would not let him see her cry again. Could not let him know that he’d gotten to her. She choked on a sob.
His hands were on Izzy’s neck and he pushed her into the mattress as he worked himself up into a frenetic release. Izzy’s face … something was wrong. She was in distress, a different pain than before.
“Stop!” Sonia cried. “You’re hurting her!” She jumped up, stumbled toward the rapist, and pushed him with all the strength she found. He didn’t budge. She hit him on the head, her hand burning with pain. He groaned.
“I’ll get you, bitch.”
“You’re killing her!”
He didn’t understand, or didn’t care. Sonia screamed for help, then kicked him as hard as she could in the testicles.
Carlton’s voice reached a high note and he collapsed next to Izzy. His face was contorted and red as he cupped his balls.
His expression told her he would kill her.
“Izzy,” Sonia squatted, turned her over. “Izzy-”
She was dead. Sonia had seen dead people before; she knew Izzy was gone. Blood oozed from her mouth. Her chest wasn’t moving.
Carlton groaned, pulling himself up into a crawling position. “You’re dead,” he rasped.
She started toward the stairs for help, but then she saw the gun. It had slipped out of his loosened pants and fallen silently to the mattress next to Izzy’s broken body.
Sonia dove across the floor and grabbed the gun before Carlton realized he’d lost it. She didn’t know much about handguns, she was only familiar with rifles used for hunting. But rifles had safeties, and she glanced down. Saw a similar switch and pressed it down with a shaky thumb.
He came at her and she pulled the trigger hard. The recoil surprised her and the bullet went high-
— right into the rapist’s face.
She heard shouts from upstairs, the sound of boots running across the basement ceiling.
She dropped the gun, then picked it up again. She might have a few seconds. That was all she needed to run.
Sonia ran to the top of the stairs and pounded on the door. “Help! Please! He killed her! Help!”
The shouts on the other side of the door took on a frantic urgency, and she heard voices all around, inside and outside the house.
Breaking glass made Sonia cry out, and she ran back down the stairs, tripping over her own feet and falling face-first onto the dirt floor. The air rushed from her lungs and she couldn’t move. What was happening? With no windows, she’d lost all sense of day and night. She was lost, alone with two dead bodies, and a few bullets were not going to save her. There was gunfire above her head and she jumped, her chest hot and struggling for a breath.
She crawled over to the far wall, where she could see the shadows at the top of the stairs. Hands shaking, she pointed the gun at the door.
Sonia didn’t want to die. She didn’t know where her steel will to survive came from, but it fully emerged there in the basement, gun in hand, and her hands steadied. She braced her fists on her knees; she tried to swallow but her mouth was so dry there was nothing but the taste of copper and dirt.
More breaking glass, and smoke came from under the door. Oh, God, no! They were burning her alive, a prisoner. She screamed.
Amid the shouts she heard a word she thought was only in her head.
“Police!” More shouts. Thumping and crashing and a scream. How long did it last? A minute? Ten? An hour? Sonia didn’t know. But there was no sound of fire, no smell of burning wood. She watched the top of the stairs and waited. She didn’t dare go up there, not now. What would they do to her?
The door opened and a bright light blasted into the room. She shielded her eyes and bit her lip.
“This is the police!
Could she believe them? There were so many people, so much noise her ears rang. She dropped the gun and expected to feel the pain of bullets hitting her chest. She closed her eyes and made herself as small as possible.
Several men descended cautiously and inspected the small room. One man approached her.
“Honey, you’re safe now.”
She didn’t believe him. She’d never be safe.
He repeated his words in Spanish, though she’d understood his English.
Sonia peered at him. He wasn’t young or old; his face was hard but his blue eyes were kind. He asked her name.
“Sonia.” She looked over at where four men were covering the bodies. “He killed her,” she whispered. “He raped and killed her. I–I got his gun. I had to.”
“Shh, Sonia. Honey, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re alive. I’ll make sure you get home.”
She started shaking again, and then the tears came. “I can’t go home.”
“No one blames you-”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Who?”
“My father. He sold me to those men. Me and-What happened to the others? They separated us. What happened to them?”
Grief crossed his face and Sonia knew the answer wasn’t good.
The cop slung his rifle over his shoulder and picked her up. “I’m getting you out of here. My name is Wendell Knight. I’m a Texas Ranger, and you’re safe with me.”
CHAPTER ONE
“They’ll fire you.”
ICE Agent Sonia Knight gave her partner a sideways glance and rolled her eyes. “Not if we succeed.”
Trace shook his head. “I want this bastard as much as you, but we’re walking a very fine line here.”
“We’re so close.”
“We could both end up dead.”
“Our witness has risked everything to give us this information. If Jones gets even a whiff that Vega is turning state’s evidence, he
“Don’t think it.”
“You know it. He hasn’t checked in for three days, which isn’t like him.”
“Kendra Vega is fine. We checked on her yesterday afternoon.”
