Innocent Labor

By Monica Gloria

Elena is a survivor--and no stranger to the cruelty that lurks in the shadows of society. Caught up in the search for a missing student, she must face the increasing violence head on and find the strength to overcome her own past.

Time is running out. Too many children have recently been reported missing, for this latest disappearance to be a coincidence. Invitations for a special auction have already been sent and buyers are gathering.

Elena's fierce determination to save a young girl sets off a chain of events that leads to the same man who orchestrated Elena's own vicious kidnapping.

Will justice triumph in Elena's crusade to save other innocent victims from the same fate she was forced to endure?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Battle King Press
• Release date: Jun 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9780985292188

Book preview

Innocent Labor

A Novel

By

Monica Gloria

Copyright 2014, Monica Gloria

Published by Battle King Press

ISBN: 978-0-9852921-8-8

Cover art by Indie Designz May 2014

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from copyright holder.

For my Grandma Linda

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank my husband, Rick Edwards for all of his technical support and constant encouragement. And to my family and friends, I appreciate the hand holding, ego stroking, and talking me off the ledge of writer insanity. I appreciate all of you and everything you have all done for me.

Thank you to my dear friend and publisher, Branli Caidryn. Thanks for believing in me when I wasn’t even sure where to begin on this crazy journey.

Special thanks to all of my critique partners. You’ve read the good, the bad, and the very ugly versions of this book. Bless you all for your diplomatic skills and persuasive arguments. I couldn’t have pushed myself and some of these characters out of their comfort zones without you.

Thank you to my editor, Jenny Margotta. Without her discerning eye, I would still be lost in a sea of grammatical errors. You’re the best.

My thanks to my cover artist, Indie Designz. You managed to reign in my fears as a new author, sort through my confused ramblings, and still somehow managed to create a visually striking cover. Thank you very much for all your hard work.

Lastly, I’d like to recognize and thank the folks at www.PolarisProject.org. Human Trafficking is a very real threat to our society and if you know someone in need of help or would like more information, please reach out to your local law enforcement agency for assistance.

Thanks, again. Any mistakes found in this book belong to me.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 1

What about her? a voice rasped from outside the chain link cage. Elena sat in the corner and watched the two demons, leering at her bruised and battered body. She hunched her shoulders, hoping they would keep walking and ignore her. This wasn’t the first time her drug-addled mind had created monsters out of shadows and the men who’d held her captive. It’s just a dream. This isn’t real. You already lived through this, a voice fervently whispered in her mind. The man in the expensive business suit and the other in stained jeans and a dirty T-shirt weren’t dangerous anymore. She’d been rescued.

She just needed to wake up from the nightmare. It was the same one she’d had for the last several years since she’d been abducted. She’d been kept in a cage for four days after being taken from the library parking lot. At the time, she’d been a college student for over a year and the safety policies had been drilled into her the same as all the other female students.

‘Make sure you park under a light, carry a flashlight and/or pepper spray, avoid leaving the library at night if you can, especially if you’re by yourself. And always be aware of what is happening around you. Keep your keys in your hand, ready to get in the car.’

So why had she found herself walking in the parking lot by herself, arms loaded down with books, distracted from her surroundings and searching in her bag for keys? Because she hadn’t been thinking; she’d been in a hurry to get home. She’d had tests to study for, friends to email, a Pilates class she’d wanted to attend in the morning.

The sound of screeching tires and a car door opening hadn’t even registered until a pair of rough hands grabbed Elena from behind. Instinct had kicked in and she had reached up to strike her assailant in the face with one of the library books, trying to fend off the attacker. As she’d turned to hit him again, another man had grabbed her by the hair. They’d pulled her, struggling and fighting, into the dark van, books and bag left discarded in the parking lot.

It had happened so quickly, no one had heard her screams for help.

Elena tossed and turned in her bed, the sheet tangled around her legs. She was chilled from the sweat covering her body. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air; small whimpers escaped into the dark room.

Her eyes flashed open. She was disoriented and still caught up in her own terror, the bedroom walls appeared to be concrete and covered with dirt and grime. The sounds of leaking pipes and scurrying vermin, mingled with desperate prayers, echoed in her head.

Elena covered her ears to drown out the memories of the faceless women who had been trapped with her. She took several deep breaths and tried to slow down her racing heart. Elena shoved away the blankets and sheet, kicking them off the bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, she forced herself to remember the rest of what had happened. She’d watched a man get beaten for killing one of the women, not because his boss was upset about the morality of his actions, but because it had meant a loss of profit. She remembered the silky, rich timbre of his accented voice. If she had to imagine what the devil sounded like, she guessed it would be a lot like Santos Fuego. Educated, cultured, and dark, with an edge of power and danger lurking underneath it all.

Arturo, how many times do I have to tell you? These women are merchandise, they make us money. You can’t destroy the merchandise without paying for it. He’d crooned to his cousin, sounding almost apologetic. He’d said those words into his cousin’s ear right before he’d smashed Arturo’s face into the wall.

As the memories played back in her mind, she cringed. The explosive violence still made her sick to her stomach. Santos had casually held a large knife in his hands, using it to emphasize his words.

He’d leaned towards his cousin, placing the lethal blade against Arturo’s crotch and whispered, I could cut your balls off and make you a eunuch. I bet that would make sure you never take money from me again. Arturo, this isn’t about them. It’s about me. You’re stealing money from my pocket and I can’t let it go. Straightening up, Santos placed the large knife back in its sheath and put his right hand on the back of Arturo’s neck. "But I won’t take your manhood, primo."

Suddenly, he’d gripped Arturo’s left forearm with his other hand and stepped forward to slam Arturo’s face into the wall. Blood splattered and muffled cries of pain bounced off the concrete walls. In the midst of the violence, Arturo had lost control of his bladder and the strong scent of urine had filled the air. Elena remembered she’d cried out with the other women when Santos had bashed Arturo’s face into the wall until he was no longer conscious. They’d watched Santos toss him to the concrete floor, the beautiful business suit streaked with his cousin’s blood and mucus.

Elena swung her legs off the bed and angled her head to glance at her clock. Four AM. Great. She stood and stretched. Pulling one arm across her chest and then the other, she released a deep breath, feeling the tense muscles in her shoulders pop and strain. Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, she figured she might as well get started on her morning workout.

She kept the light off as she headed down the hallway to the living room. Her roommate and best friend, Rachel, was still asleep. Elena knew she could always tiptoe into Rachel’s room and her BFF would fend off the nightmares, but Elena hadn’t needed to do that for a few years. Which was something Elena was damn proud of, even though she was pretty sure Rachel slept with her bedroom door open, just in case.

Rachel and Elena had met at one of the gyms near the college. Before she met Santos, Elena had been a regular at the Zumba classes and would fit them in between classes whenever she could. She’d grown close to the tall, buxom woman. The two women became as close as sisters but were opposite in looks. Where Elena was short with an athletic build and light brown skin, Rachel towered over her with skin as dark as night and a personality that seemed to fill a room. Both women had brown, electric eyes, although Rachel’s were often alight with humor and laughter while Elena’s sparkled with cutting wit and sarcasm. Elena rarely showed the softer side of her personality. She reserved that part of herself for those who were important to her, and she was very selective about who she considered important.

Luckily for her, Rachel kept Elena from becoming perpetually grim or living like a hermit. It was her cheerful outlook and positive input that pulled Elena out of many nights of feeling sorry for herself. If it hadn’t been for Rachel’s love and support, Elena wasn’t sure she would have had the strength to go on after the kidnapping. The hours of therapy helped, but it was her friends and family who were the true heroes in the healing process.

One well-meaning therapist offered to go with Elena back to the warehouse so she could face her fears and move past her trauma. He was determined to be the one to facilitate a breakthrough. Elena had asked Rachel to go with her while she went through the dilapidated building.

Rachel had walked behind Elena and the therapist, shaking her head in disgust, muttering about dirt and filth destroying her shoes. Girl, are you sure this is gonna help? This place is nasty. What’s the point of stirring up old stuff? And I’m not talking about the rat poop.

I need to deal with it, Rach. I keep waking up at night screaming and I’m still afraid to be in a room with too many people. How long do I have to live like this? Walking through each doorway, Elena’s eyes had glazed over with memories from those few days of being trapped in hell. Her nose had filled with the stench of body odor, fear and blood.

When the doctor reached out to grasp Elena’s arm as they entered one of the rooms, her reaction had been to pivot and punch him in the face with a quick right jab. Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to hit you. Flustered and embarrassed, Elena had reached into her handbag for tissues and shoved them at her friend.

While Rachel choked down her laughter and helped the therapist stop his nose from bleeding, Elena reflected on the relive the past experiment. She realized the day had been a waste of time. As she steered the doctor out of the warehouse while he kept his head tilted back, she knew she needed to find another therapist.

Coming back to the present, Elena rolled out her exercise mat. She stretched and centered her breathing, letting the memories flow. She’d learned it was easier to let the past move through her mind like a river rather than fight it. Whenever she tried to bottle up traumatic events and force them away, she found herself having panic attacks and losing sleep.

Settling her body into her normal yoga routine, she focused on her breathing. Into her nose, out through her mouth. Slowly, the repetition of movements and meditation relaxed her tightly coiled muscles and knotted-up stomach.

Elena remembered being hustled out of the warehouse with the other survivors. The officers shouting for order, the women crying, and the rough blanket wrapped around her shoulders offering little comfort while she shivered in the back of the ambulance. Her last image before one of the medics pushed a needle in her arm had been Santos standing across the street watching the controlled chaos. No one had believed her and assumed the drugs in her system were causing hallucinations.

It’s fine. He’s not here. He’s in the past.

Standing up straight, she lifted one leg and pointed it straight behind her. While bending, she held her arms forward, holding her body in the form of a T.

She heard Rachel moving around in her bedroom. Why are you up so early? And what the hell are you doing? Rachel grumbled from the doorway.

Elena glanced at her rumpled friend as Rachel fussed in the kitchen, muttering about coffee and weirdos doing weird shit at the butt ass crack of dawn on a freaking Saturday of all days and wasn’t it illegal to get up this damn early on your day off . . .

Elena chuckled as she lowered her leg and flowed into her next pose, always remembering to focus on her breathing.

Rachel glowered and sat down on the couch, wrapping herself in the hand-stitched quilt Elena’s mother had given her last Christmas. Is there a reason why we’re up so early? she asked.

I had some trouble sleeping. I didn’t mean to wake you, Elena apologized. She bent forward, hopping her feet backward, and moved into her next position.

It’s fine. You okay? Rachel waved away the apology and jutted her chin.

Yeah, same shit as usual. Elena leaned over and grabbed her bottle of water. Tipping it back, she gulped down the contents. She set it back down on the floor and reached for one of the kettle bells she kept in the living room. In a standard squat position, she lifted the weight with both hands. Breathe in, up; breathe out, down. Keeping her motions slow and controlled, she felt the trickle of sweat and trembling of her muscles.

What’s next, jogging? Rachel indicated Elena’s yoga matt, towel, and assortment of weights.

Hell, no, I tried it once. It almost killed me. Elena huffed.

Yawning, Rachel nodded and tugged the blanket up around her shoulders. Yeah, me, too.

Chapter 2

Maneuvering her car with practiced ease, Elena avoided running over the preteens and teenagers strolling through the parking lot. Ah, the invincibility of youth. Shifting her beloved car into park, she grabbed her backpack and started through the crowd to her office. Sure, parents always made the mistake of thinking she was a high school student instead of recognizing her as one of the school counselors, but it was a small price to pay for having all of her things in one bag.

With her smooth tan skin, thick hair, and petite stature it was easy for her to blend in with most of the high school kids. Even the tragedy and anger she carried in her eyes created a type of kinship with her students. Her engaging smile put parents at ease, but her pain was something the kids could understand.

She had a gift for connecting with troubled kids and recognizing signs of abuse. She wasn’t afraid to get involved in their lives or piss people off. Her job was to help the students, not sugar coat the truth, which was why many of the students went out of their way to seek her help. She gave the kids and their parents respect and honesty, expecting nothing less in return. You get what you give wasn’t just a saying; she tried her best to always apply the motto to her work ethic.

This private school was her first job after graduating from college. After her kidnapping, she’d taken a year off from school to hide away from the world and then she jumped right back in. Between therapy, college, and volunteer work, Elena had found a somewhat precarious balance of pushing forward while avoiding an emotional breakdown.

With the large, sprawling green lawns, majestic trees, and brick buildings, the school was reminiscent of an East Coast college campus rather than a private school for the arts in Southern