Matthew swallowed past the dryness in his throat. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect Olivia of having some sort of telepathic ability. He sat still in the uncomfortable chair and tried not to draw attention to the raging erection he was sporting.
Olivia’s eyes were fixed on him, but her stare seemed to move through him and beyond to some place he couldn’t see. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, but for whatever reason, Matthew doubted they had much to do with the story. In fact, she had told it with some fondness which he found disturbing given the situation.
Unbidden, the image of a young woman, dressed in white leather and wearing an enormous dildo flashed into his mind and right on its heels, he wondered what it might be like to be forced to suck it in front of a room full of strangers. Matthew’s erection throbbed angrily and not for the first time, he was ashamed. He sighed, disappointed with himself, and crossed his ankle over his knee to better hide himself.
He clicked his pen a few times because his fingers were anxious for something to do and then he wrote down the names: ‘Kid’, Nancy, and Celia (No known last name). “So, that was the night you met, Rafiq, and Felipe. Do you know what happened to Kid or Nancy? How did they end up at the house? Did Caleb kidnap them, too?”
Olivia glowered, but seemed unable to stop staring off into space long enough to direct it at him. He couldn’t make sense of her feelings toward her captor, despite knowing how common it was. There just didn’t seem to be anything there worth caring about as far as Matthew was concerned. However, he did acknowledge there was a lot about Olivia worth admiring. She had spent the last four months in the company of kidnappers, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, and human traffickers, but she’d somehow maintained a certain naivety and triumphant strength that apparently, could not be stripped away from her.
“I don’t know what happened to them. The last time I saw them, they were both alive. Kid is probably fine; Felipe really liked him. Nancy…I don’t know. Maybe she’s still with Rafiq,” she whispered without blinking.
“Are you alright, Miss Ruiz?” Matthew asked. His erection was finally starting to wane and he could focus on his questions.
The girl finally blinked and swiped at the fat tears sliding down her cheeks as a result. “I’m fine, Reed. It’s just…never mind.” She looked up at him and tried to smile, but it was a weak effort and they both knew it.
“Tell me. I know I’m not Sloan, but I have been around, Miss Ruiz.” Matthew smiled when she finally let her smile reach her eyes.
“Sloan. I don’t know what her deal is. She’s always so nice to me, but it annoys me for some reason. I don’t think she’s disingenuous, but I just know there’s more to her than she lets on. I mean, she works for the FBI, like you. Only, she’s not like you, at all.”
“Oh? And what am I like?” Matthew said.
She rolled her eyes, “You’re a jerk, Agent Reed.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, too, Miss Ruiz,” Matthew said dryly. She laughed.
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Olivia said, slightly mocking but she laughed again, unrestrained, almost like a girl without any problems.
“So, you don’t like Sloan,” he rephrased. “Why?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like her, Reed. You’re always putting words in my mouth,” she admonished. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you implied Caleb kidnapped Kid and Nancy. He couldn’t have, he was with me, remember?”
Matthew smiled wryly and shook his head, “I didn’t imply it, Miss Ruiz. I asked the question. That’s my job. Also, we both know he did. Maybe he didn’t do it himself, but he was there and he ordered it. Regardless, adding more kidnapping to the list of charges against him is hardly going to make a difference.” Olivia was quiet for a long time after that, thinking, Matthew assumed.
“You keep talking about him like he’s alive, Reed, and I told you…he’s not.” Her eyes were filled with unshed tears again and it was difficult for Matthew to remain unaffected by them. No matter what he thought of Caleb, Olivia obviously felt very deeply for him.
“Why do you care about him so much, Miss Ruiz?” he demanded. He just didn’t get it and it pissed him off, more than it should. “He was terrible to you. The things he did to you. Don’t tell me you wanted those things. I can’t believe you could have.”
Olivia was staring off into space again, but she spoke through her tears, “A lot of bad things happened to him too, Reed. His back was covered in whip marks and he told me he was very young when someone did that to him.” Matthew couldn’t hold back a scoff, and Olivia blinked and scowled at him. “I’m not stupid, Reed. I know the shit he did to me was awful, I fucking lived it. But I’m telling you, monsters aren’t born, they’re made, and someone made Caleb. Someone beat him, someone did horrible things to him, and the only person who helped him, Rafiq, made him into a killer. He didn’t have someone like you, or Sloan, or the goddamn FBI to help him. He had to survive all by himself and even though I can’t forgive him, I understand him.”
“Are you trying to tell me he’s the monster with a heart of gold?” he said, disbelieving, “Come on, Miss Ruiz. Really?”
Anger flashed on her face. “There isn’t a permanent mark on me, Reed, not one. And you don’t know how many times he was there to hold me together when I was sure I was going to fall apart. He’s a monster,” she sobbed, “I know he is. I know, and…it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Crying women left him bereft of action. They reminded him too much of his birth mother lying on the couch, shaking and begging him to find a way to score more drugs for her. He’d panic at times like that, knowing if Greg came home and found her, he’d beat her and then turn his rage on him. He’d only been seven, but he knew how to get lost for a while. He would grab his coat, kiss his mother, promise her he’d be back with her medicine and then he’d leave. There was an older lady, Mrs. Kavanaugh, who lived a few blocks away. When things got bad, he would stay at her house, eating cookies and watching game shows until his mom, or Greg, came looking for him.
His mother had been a weak woman, a drug addict that cared more about being loved by an abusive man than she did her own son. Matthew had tried for years to help his mother get clean, but in the end, she couldn’t stop using. One night, she was too high to defend herself, and Greg beat her to death. Matthew hadn’t been home, he’d been out with his friends, and when he’d arrived at home he’d found her: cold and still.
Matthew was thirteen and he went to live with Mrs. Kavanaugh’s daughter, Margaret, and her husband, Richard Reed. Greg committed suicide in lieu of going to jail for murder, and Matthew had never gotten over the injustice of it, despite the fact his life had improved drastically after that. Margaret and Richard were his real mother and father as far as he was concerned. He tried not to think of those other people.
“Horrible things happen to a lot of people, Miss Ruiz. Not everyone becomes a monster,” he said.
“No, but the world is full of people who do. It’s like those kids in Africa that get taught how to use machine guns and kill. Some of them can barely lift the guns, but they’re killers. What about them, Reed? Do you hold them responsible? Would you lock them away or put them down?” She wiped her eyes.
“That’s different, and you know it. The entire continent is rife with civil unrest and it’s people like Muhammad Rafiq, Felipe Villanueva, and yes, even Caleb, that get those kids hooked on cocaine and then teach them how to kill. I hold those people responsible.”
“What about the one’s that grow up? What about the one’s that survive long enough to become adults? Can you blame them for doing the only thing they know how?” She had to stop and breathe, her anger making her shake. He could see it on her face. She wanted to hit him. “Do you think that ten or twenty years from now, I’m going to feel normal or be normal or have a normal life, like you?”
Matthew let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know, Miss Ruiz. I don’t have those kinds of answers for you. It’s wrong, what happens to those kids, but it doesn’t give them free license as adults to rape and murder just because they’ve been doing it since they were young. Nor does it justify their actions because they had a fucked up childhood.”
“So…what? Fuck ‘em?” she challenged, her eyes wild. “Is that the best you can do?”
Matthew shrugged, “I don’t see the comparison, Miss Ruiz. Even if I did, are you telling me if one of those kids pointed a gun at you, if one of them raped you, you’d be willing to forgive them? Because I don’t think I have that much compassion. Anyone who points a weapon at me is going to get brought down. I don’t care if it’s a fucking Girl Scout.”
Olivia laughed without humor, “You’re fucking wrong, Reed. That’s exactly what Caleb would say.” She regarded him for a moment. “You are different from Sloan; she would never say anything like that.”
Matthew shrugged, trying to find his calm. The conversation had gotten out of control, and really, it just wasn’t necessary. “I tell it like it is and believe me, you’re not the first person to find it annoying.”
“Speaking of…why would you tell Sloan I kissed you?”
“Because you did. Dr. Sloan would have asked and it’s irrelevant to me but important for her to know.”
She rolled her eyes again, “I just wanted to distract you. You wouldn’t give me Caleb’s fucking picture and I wanted it. Now, Sloan thinks I’m some kind of sexual deviant who tries to seduce asshole FBI agents that want to shoot Girl Scouts.”
Matthew smiled in spite of himself, “Well, aren’t you?”
“Tell me, you’re joking.” She stared at him, a startled, even comical expression on her face. “No one is that self-absorbed.”
“I’m joking. And I am that self-absorbed.” They both laughed amiably, but the conversation was far from over and it was up to Matthew to bring it back around, but he wanted to give Livvie the time to get there. “You still haven’t answered the question: Why do you care so much about Caleb?”
She sighed at that, her focus seemingly far away. When she spoke, her tone was soft and somewhat wistful. “He used to talk to me at night. It was almost like the dark gave us permission to be ourselves, to put aside the fact he was my kidnapper, and the man responsible for all the terrible things that happened to me during the day. But you have to understand, for all the bad Caleb did, he protected me too, in his own ways. It could have been so much worse for me without Caleb.”
“That night, after Celia had whipped Kid in front of everyone, Rafiq had tried to separate us. He wanted me to stay in his room and I was terrified Caleb would let it happen. I’d seen what Rafiq had done to Nancy. I could still hear her screams in my ears and feel her hands grabbing for me. I didn’t want to end up like her.
“Caleb refused. He said I would scream for hours on end if I were separated from him. He said I was a danger to myself and Rafiq didn’t know me well enough to know what I needed. He’d said it all in English and the moment Rafiq reached for me I started screaming bloody murder until Caleb lifted me into his arms. I even threw in some feverish gibberish, clutching at him and begging him not to let me go. I didn’t have to work hard to be panicked. I was panicked.
“Caleb stroked my hair and I slowly relaxed into his arms, going so far as to ‘faint’. Maybe it was a little over the top, but it worked. Felipe had begged Caleb’s forgiveness for not offering to have him shown to his room sooner and called the butler over to take us to Caleb’s room.” Livvie chuckled softly as she recounted the story and Matthew had to wonder if her sense of humor had always been so dark or if it was an aftereffect of her time spent in ruthless company.
“Oh!” Olivia suddenly exclaimed, “I remember something. Felipe told Rafiq the boat would be arriving in four days and he asked if Rafiq would be leaving to meet it, or if he planned to stay and have someone else handle it.”
Matthew leaned forward, pen poised over his notepad, “He said this in front of you?”
“He thought I was passed out. I don’t know if it’s important. It was months ago, so the boat has obviously already come and gone, but I do remember it because I wondered if we were near water and if I was going to be on that fucking boat.”
“Obviously, that didn’t happen,” Matthew said, stating the obvious.
“No, but you didn’t ask me if it happened. You told me to tell you everything I remember,” she said.
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know, but Rafiq was gone a few days later, so I assume he went to meet the boat and whoever or whatever was on it.”
Probably drugs, Matthew thought, and he made a note to look into locations near water and cross-reference them with his list of military installations in Pakistan. He would also have to call the Federal Investigation Agency in Pakistan. The FIA likely knew something; it was getting them to admit it and tell him. “Anything else that might be useful?” he asked.
“Not that I can think of right now. Besides, I was telling you about me and Caleb.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Fine. It seems to be helping you remember things, but please, try to keep the sex stuff to a minimum. I really don’t need to hear the blow-by-blow.”
Olivia smiled, “Was that a pun, Reed?”
“Hardly, just a poor choice of words,” he acknowledged. The image he’d manufactured of Celia thrusting that dildo into Kid’s mouth once again assaulted him. He shook his head and it dissipated. He wished he’d never heard that story. It wasn’t the act he guiltily found intriguing, but the authority behind it. Matthew didn’t care for weak women, but he certainly had a thing for domineering ones. And in the darkest recesses of Matthew’s mind, he knew why.
“Are you really going to listen? Will you at least try to see things the way I do?” she requested earnestly.
Matthew’s stomach did a strange flip-like thing at the sound of her begging tone. This was always the part of the job he hated. He liked solving the puzzle, putting the case facts together and tracking down the criminals, but this part, dealing with the victims and their myriad personalities and experiences, most of them tragic, he couldn’t stand. He could stand Olivia more than some other people he’d interviewed. Now that she wasn’t so much of a basket case, she seemed made of much stronger stuff, but she was still in a strange limbo of victim and suspect.
Still. “I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make, Miss Ruiz. I can promise I’ll listen. I can promise I’ll do my job. I can even promise to help you as much as I am able. But I can’t promise you I’ll ever see things the way you do.”
His refusal really seemed to upset her. Olivia’s shoulders slumped but she nodded for far longer than she needed to, lost in space again. When she spoke, she seemed to be talking to the room with Matthew as a set piece. Her words weren’t for him and they both knew that. “I figured you might say that. It makes sense I guess. It’s just…. I don’t think anyone is ever going to see it the way I do, Reed. No one is ever going to understand. If it ever comes out, everyone’s just going to think I’m crazy. That I’m young and I don’t know what I’m talking about. That I’m a victim and my feelings are all a result of my trauma. I think that’s what hurts the most
“I lived through all of it. I saw and felt and experienced more in one Summer than I think most people experience their entire lives, but in the end? I’m just a girl who no one will ever understand. There’s so much about me that will never be the same.
“You don’t want to hear about the sex stuff. I know that. I know how inappropriate it is to sit here and tell a complete stranger about people getting tied up and whipped, even fucked in front of me. But…I have to tell someone. Someone who won’t make me feel like a freak. Someone who won’t analyze me like Sloan does.
“She doesn’t mean to make me feel like a freak, not on purpose. It’s when she says I’m drawn to you, because you’re a strong man, like Caleb. When she says I kissed you because sex is the way I’ve been conditioned to get my way, that it’s all psychological, and it’s all because Caleb fucked with my head. I can’t stand it. I can’t have everything I feel, reduced to a textbook description that fits me, and millions of other broken idiots. More than that, I can’t stand thinking that maybe…she’s right.
“Maybe I don’t really love Caleb, maybe my brain made it up so I wouldn’t kill myself or feel so scared and alone. Maybe I’ll accept that one day and I won’t be able to stop having nightmares. Maybe I’ll never trust another emotion I ever have again. Who’s going to love a girl like that, Reed? Who’s ever going to love a freak like me?” She collapsed onto her bed and rolled into a ball, crying and rocking.
Matthew’s heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest. He didn’t know what to do to make her stop crying. He didn’t want to touch her, that felt like the wrong thing. A hug? Not him either. He wished Sloan were here. She was the social worker. It was her job to deal with all the mushy shit. He remembered Olivia didn’t care for mushy.
“Someone will love you, Miss Ruiz. Even if you’re a jerk.”
“Fuck you, Reed,” she sobbed.
He laughed, “And you’re so charming, too.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yes,” he said as a matter of fact.
“God! Why are you so messed up?!?” She sat up and glared.
“Everybody is fucked up and we’re all freaks in our own ways.”
“How would you know?” she shot back, sniffling and glaring at him. “You probably had a charmed life in suburbia. No cares. No worries. A perfect life.”
He gave her a deadpan look. “I was abused as a child. African militants forced me to snort gun powder and cocaine and plow villages with my Uzi. Feel sorry for me and stop whining about how no one will love you,” he suggested calmly. Her shocked expression was priceless. He gave her a leveling look and softened his voice. “You’re young, strong and you’re an asshole to boot. With your smarts, you’re going to be just fine. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different. Not even you.”
Olivia’s expression softened and after a while she gave a little smile. “You’re okay, I guess, Reed. No one’s ever going to love you, but you’re okay.”
He gave her a wry smile, “Thank you, Miss Ruiz. I’ll remember that when you’re begging for sympathy.”
She sighed. “Can we be done for today? I’m really tired. Talking to you takes a year off my life.”
“Want me to turn off the lights? Would the dark help you confess?” he said, and he was only half joking.
“Funny.”
“I try,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He paused, and leveled with her. “Look. We’re running out of time, Miss Ruiz. We need to get to that auction and you’re our best hope to rescue the others, like yourself, Nancy, Kid, Celia. All of them. I don’t want you to lose sight of that. I’ll listen to you, I’ll even try to see things from your perspective, but at the end of the day…you’re safe. Others aren’t so lucky.”
She nodded, solemnly. “I know, Reed. Trust me, I know. I don’t want those evil bastards to get away with it either. I really don’t.”
“I hope so, Miss Ruiz. Get some sleep.” Matthew stood and gathered his things, remembering to shut off the recorder and tuck it into his jacket where it couldn’t get lost.
He left the hospital and decided to go back to the office for a few hours. It was still relatively early and the offices in Pakistan would be open. He had to make a few calls.
Back at the office, he got on the phone with the FIA and asked if they had any information about a slave auction happening in the next few days. As predicted, the FIA agents weren’t pleased to be getting a call from the FBI, but after interweaving the standard threat-coax key words in his most polite voice, they begrudgingly said they’d look into it and pass along any information.
“Please keep an eye on the private airports for any high-profile people entering the country: billionaires, sheiks, anyone with a lot of money and power. Especially if they have any ties you know of to organized crime, including guns, drugs, and human labor.”
“You don’t have to tell us how to do our job, Agent Reed.,” said the agent on the other end. His accent was South African. “We’re quite capable of gathering intelligence without the U.S. Government.”
“Then I’ll expect a call from you boys in a couple of days?” Matthew baited.
“A pleasure, Agent Reed. We’ll keep an eye out for Demitri Balk or anyone traveling under the name Vladek Rostrovich.” The line went dead.
“Dickface,” Matthew grumbled. He pressed down on his phone to make another call. He looked down a listing of government agencies in Pakistan and also put a call in to the office in charge of PACHTO. The Prevention and Control of Human Trafficking Ordinance had only been in place since 2002, but it was gaining steam. It was difficult to get a hold of someone who spoke English, but after a few redials he finally got in touch with a linguist who worked there.
It was a little after eight when Matthew decided he’d done all he could for the night. He gathered his belongings, including his recorder and headed for his hotel. He couldn’t stop thinking about Olivia’s story. He couldn’t stop thinking about Celia.
By the time he’d arrived at his room, set his briefcase down on the table, emptied his pockets, carefully stacked any loose change by denomination and placed them in a row by size, placed his keys, wallet and watch on the table and hung up his suit jacket, he’d made up his mind to listen to the damn tape he couldn’t stop thinking about. He was already so hard; he could barely sit down to remove his shoes and socks. He rushed through his process, eager to get his clothes off and touch himself.
Finally, he finished hanging his clothes and all that remained was his underwear, tented with his shameful arousal. Ordinarily, he had no problem with jerking off. However, it was the circumstances surrounding his hard-on that left him feeling guilty.
“You’re a sick motherfucker,” Matthew whispered, but gave in and pushed his underwear down his legs and put them in the laundry bag. He didn’t bother showering, he was too needy. Instead, he pulled the bedspread down and flung himself onto the crisp cold sheets of the bed. He reached for the recorder on the nightstand and rewound it to Celia’s entrance. His cock leapt. He shut his eyes and put his hand on his hot flesh as Livvie’s voice filled the room.
Matthew wasn’t gentle with himself. He didn’t like gentle. He grabbed his dick like it was some sort of enemy and squeezed it until it hurt. Margaret and Richard were great parents: kind, loving, and warm. They took a damaged kid whose mother had been murdered and gave him a great life, but they couldn’t wipe his memories. They couldn’t strip away the darkness in him. They couldn’t make him stop liking this.
Matthew dragged his fingernails across his chest, sure to scratch his nipple hard enough to make him wince and buck his hips up into his fist.
“She raised the flogger over her head and brought it down hard across Kid’s chest. He cried out, doubling over, and when those men held him up, there was an angry red stripe across his chest. Kid sobbed…”
Matthew imagined himself in Kid’s place, ashamed the image was so arousing, so crushingly right, but Matthew had tears in his eyes because he knew it was wrong. It was wrong to listen to Olivia’s voice. It was wrong to listen to Kid’s misery. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong!
Matthew came. Hard. His come spraying him across his chest, burning against the scored skin, and even that, was glorious. He panted loudly, alone in the dark, listening to Olivia’s voice. His other hand, the one not covered in come, reached for the recorder and switched it off.
In the end, it didn’t even matter. He was getting hard again. It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to come and his dick wasn’t going to be happy with a quick jerk-off session. He refused to listen to the tape again though. He refused.
He jolted out of bed and into the shower to rinse off. There was a club. There was always a club. And no matter how Matthew tried not to seek them out, he always did. He was constantly aware of where he could go to find what his subconscious demanded of him.
Out of the shower, he quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and button-up shirt. Nothing black, nothing that would suggest he was dominant. He hated when eager subs sat down next to him, thinking he’d love nothing better than to put them over his knee. He always sent them away in tears, ashamed he couldn’t give them what they wanted. He’d tried. He’d tried to be that guy. It always ended badly.
