Relentless (Option Zero #2) - Christy Reece Page 0,12
the way and kept going. Ash would make sure they were out of commission, one way or the other.
“Serena, you copy?”
“Yes! Good to hear your voice. We’re secure.”
“Where are you?”
“Last room on the left, south side of the building.”
“How many do you have?”
“Nine women, three children, two young men.”
“Good work. Keep them there until I give the all clear.”
“Roger that.”
“Xavier, you guys make out okay?”
“We’re good. Took care of two of them.”
“Excellent. Let’s clear this dump of any remaining vermin.”
It took all his discipline not to hurry through the process. Ensuring the motel had indeed been cleared of all traffickers was the priority. When he was sure, then he’d take the opportunity to check on the victims.
Still on alert, he took a step through a door. He spotted the trip wire a half second too late. His ears barely registered a boom before rancid smoke filled the room. Liam jumped back, hacking and coughing. Dammit, somebody had booby-trapped the door. His nose and lungs burning like fire, he ran outside.
Coughing like he was hacking up a lung, Liam fought for every breath. What the hell had that been?
A hand slapped him on the back. He looked up to see Ash holding out a bottle of water. Grabbing it, Liam took a long gulp and then poured the rest over his face. The relief was instantaneous.
“You okay?”
His voice raspy from coughing, he said, “I will be. Stupid mistake. Hit a trip wire.”
“Yeah. We found three more. Nothing dangerous. Just a smoke bomb. Probably set to keep anyone from escaping. Didn’t think to look for them until you tripped over one. So thanks for that.”
In between coughs, he threw Ash a crooked grin. “Anything—” cough, cough—
“to help the cause.”
“Building’s clear. Relief workers are here to transport the victims. They’re gathered at the back. You’ll want to see them first.”
“Have you seen them?”
“Not yet.”
Accepting another water bottle from Ash, Liam took several more swallows and felt halfway human again. Although his eyes were still swimming with tears and his throat felt as though he’d smoked a carton of cigarettes in one sitting, he knew he was lucky that was all the damage he’d incurred. Stupid of him, because it could’ve been a lot worse.
“Serena and Jazz, we’re coming your way.”
“Good,” Jazz answered, her relief evident. “They’re about to load them onto the bus.”
As he headed around to the back of the building where the victims were being helped, he couldn’t help but appreciate his OZ partners. Not one of them believed he’d ever find who he was looking for, but they were always willing to go the extra mile for him.
With every step he took, he felt as if this time…this time would be different. This time he would finally find her.
He rounded a corner and took in the scene. Two large vans, doors open, were parked parallel to the motel. Several aid workers milled around. The victims were easy to spot. Not because of their lack of clothing or anything materialistic. It was the expressions on their faces. The desolation in their eyes. Yes, they had been rescued and life could begin again for them, but it would take years, even a lifetime, to overcome what they’d been through.
Liam entered the area slowly, not wanting to alarm anyone. The aid workers were easy to spot, too—calmness in the midst of chaos, compassion in their eyes.
As relieved as he was that this had been another successful rescue, he couldn’t deny the normal disappointment. He should be used to it by now. She wasn’t here. None of the women fit Cat’s description. And in the deepest, darkest part of his soul, he knew none of them ever would.
How many times had this very same scenario occurred? How many times would he experience the same crushing disappointment before he finally accepted the truth?
He didn’t know—he knew only that he couldn’t give up. Not yet.
The scene one he’d seen all too often, he turned to leave. He’d done his job. People were rescued, lives were saved. The traffickers would be picked up by local authorities and hopefully never released. He would have to be happy with that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one anomaly. A young woman stood several yards away from everyone. Instead of offering aid to the victims, she was speaking into what looked like a handheld recorder. Every minute or so, she’d jot something on a notepad and then would occasionally wipe her eyes of what he assumed were tears.