Page 71 of Hostile Extraction

Dusty scoped the area while Stan tried the sliders and found them open. He jerked his head to the side. “Come on.”

They entered, and Dusty put his finger to his mouth.

Asia nodded and gestured down the hall.

The men cleared the way, checking each doorway and corner until they came to a door, and Asia pointed.

Stan took one side and Dusty the other, both leaning to listen for sound. They shook their heads.

There was a distant clatter of dishes. It was just past nine, and Asia knew it had to be Marta in the kitchen.

Dusty eased his hand down and tried the knob, but shook his head.

Stan squatted, pulled a tool out, and jimmied the lock until it popped. Once that noise sounded, they entered quickly, trying to maintain surprise.

A girl was cuffed to the bed asleep, or perhaps drugged.

Dusty placed his hand over her mouth. Her eyes popped open, and she struggled, trying to scream.

Asia leaned over her and whispered. “It’s okay. We’re here to get you out of here. We’re here to help. I promise.”

The girl stopped struggling, her eyes wide, staring at Asia.

“I promise, we’re here to rescue you, but you can’t scream, okay?”

The girl nodded.

“If I take my hand away, you don’t make a sound, understand? You do, Nico’s men will come.”

She shook her head again, and he eased his hand away, looking prepared to put it right back if she screamed.

Asia put her finger to her mouth. “Shh.”

The girl nodded, and Stan got to work with his tool, popping the lock on the cuff around her wrist.

The girl was young. Asia doubted she was even sixteen. She was also skinny, with long, gangly legs. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Asia glanced around and found a pair of pink Vans and put them at the girl’s feet. “Slip these on.”

As she did, Stan photographed the room for evidence, including the cuffs on the bed and the tray with used hypodermic needles and discarded vials.

Dusty gently lifted the girl’s arm, seeing the needle marks. “What’s your name?” he whispered as Stan filmed them.

“Zoe Sorenson.”

“Where are you from?”

“Jacksonville.”

“Were you taken here against your will?”

Zoe nodded.

“Was the man’s name Nico Amorosi?”

She nodded again.

“We’re going to get you out of here. I promise.”

A tear ran down her face as she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

---