45

When they finally arrived back in Dutch Harbor, Darcy entered Abby’s hospital room, glad to see her friend’s pale cheeks had regained some color as the IV fluids and medication flushed the drugs from her system.

Abby lurched forward, vomiting into the pan the medic held. Perspiration dotted her brow.

A nurse dabbed her forehead with a cool, damp cloth. “Let it out. You’ll feel better, honey.”

Abby looked up at Darcy, utter gratefulness etched on her damp brow. “How did you find me?”

Darcy explained between Abby’s vomiting bouts.

Finally Abby sat back, spent but so much more alert. The nurse wiped her brow with a fresh cloth and offered her mouth rinse, which Abby gladly took.

When the nurse and medic stepped out, Darcy moved to sit at Abby’s side.

Abby clasped her hand. “I owe you my life. Seriously. When Jeremy threw me overboard, I thought I was dead. Then I was pulled from the water and I thought I’d been rescued, only to find it was him.” She went on to explain how they’d held her on the boat until another arrived and then how they’d transferred her and Jeremy had been shot.

Darcy held Abby as she trembled. “That must have been terrifying.”

“I was too scared to fight after that.” She swallowed. “They brought me to that house, and then . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, crying.

“You don’t have to,” Darcy said. “It’s okay.”

Gage paced periodically by the door, trying to be sure she was okay while still allowing them some privacy.

Abby sniffed, swiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m so thankful you came when you did. I’m pretty sure they were getting ready to move me . . . to Russia, I think. At least initially, from what I could gather.” Abby shook her head. “I’m so sorry I pulled you into this. If anything had happened to you . . .” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“But it didn’t. God protected me and led me to you.”

The next couple days were spent briefing the FBI agents while Abby and the two other women were treated. Abby was the only American woman who had been found, though during her short time in captivity, she’d learned others had passed through—no doubt including Jessica Matthews and Christine Bowen.

Clint’s and George’s bodies were discovered in the wilderness not far from Dutch Harbor’s ferry station—both shot in the head. Kyle Trent remained in FBI custody along with Theodora Mullins—who, in an effort to save her hide, offered to cooperate and was providing vital information on Trent’s network. Ted had been questioned, but since he had not played a direct role and there was no hard evidence tying him to the ring, chances were he’d walk.

On the morning of Abby’s third day in the hospital, though she was weak, the doctors were satisfied with her progress and had approved her release. While Gage and Jake arranged for their flight to Anchorage, everyone had joined Darcy and Abby as they waited for her final release paperwork to arrive.

In the midst of a cleansing bout of group laughter, Special Agent Stan Jackson rapped on the waiting room door.

Landon stood up. “News?”

“We’ve talked with the FBI legal attaché office staff at the U.S. embassy in Moscow, and they say that the Bratva, the Russian mafia translated as the Brotherhood, are the major Russian players in the sex-slave trade. They are a huge funneling market for bringing women into Europe and Asia, as well as smuggling sex slaves into the U.S. Working in conjunction with local authorities, they know of several Bratva houses in Moscow and the surrounding area.”

“Houses?” Darcy asked.

“They are a combination brothel and processing center,” Stan explained. “The women are brought in, and those they feel they can sell for a good profit, they arrange to sell to the highest bidder. The embassy had heard the occasional rumor of an American victim being in Russia, but they’ve never had any proof. They believe if American women are enslaved, they are sold very quickly to other countries for an obscene price.”

“So that’s where they were going to take Abby?” Darcy gripped Abby’s hand, fear and disgust tracking through her.

“Most likely.”

“I’ve passed along all the information we’ve gathered on this end to the FBI attaché. Hopefully, it’ll be of help on that end.”

It was too horrific. They’d saved Abby and two other women, but she shuddered to think of all the women still enslaved.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Stan said. “We’ll stay on this, and we’ll keep you in the loop, Deputy Grainger.”

Landon shook the man’s hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, all of you, for your help.” Stan looked around the room. “I realize by getting Trent and his gang, we may have only caused a small dent in Bratva’s trafficking organization, but we cut out one of their major American suppliers. It’s a great day for the good guys.”

Darcy settled in beside Gage for the flight—content to simply spend the journey wrapped in his sheltering arms.

Abby was traveling with them as far as Anchorage, and then she would be taking a flight back to California from there. Piper sat beside her, the two deep in conversation.

Gage threaded his fingers through hers. “You doing okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Do you think she will?” She lifted her chin in Abby’s direction.

“I pray so.”

Darcy clutched his hand tighter. “Me too. Maybe this experience, all she’s been through, will make her more receptive to talking about God.”

He smiled. “I think Piper’s already on it.”

She looked back over to find Piper with her Bible in hand and Abby glancing at the pages as Piper spoke.

Please, Father. Let this horrific experience draw her to you. Let it draw us all closer to you.