My light travels toward the voice, stopping three cages down on a woman with eyes squinting from the glare of the flashlight. I lower it a bit."Sorry," I say softly. "Can you communicate with them?" It will take time to bring in an interpreter and the last thing these women have is time. We need to get them out. "Yes, if your intention is good," she replies in a stronger voice."We're here to get you out," I assure her. "Do you know how many are alive?"She inhales and exhales jaggedly before speaking. "Sahar is gone, but I think she is the only one. She is next to me." Her ragged voice tears at my soul as my light drifts to the next cage.There are two hands inside-one belongs to the woman speaking; she is holding tightly to the lifeless, darkened, hand of the dead woman next to her. In all my years as an officer I've never seen anything more horrifying. It must have shown on my face in the glow of my flashlight."I... I told her I would not let go. She was so afraid." Her voi

At my last appointment, the doctor said I could walk without the knee brace, but my stride is still tentative. I walk slowly to my computer and bring up my email account: junk mail, a short "Just to say hi" from one of the secretaries at the department, and a greeting from my mother asking when I'm visiting.I almost miss it, but buried in the fifty plus emails is an urgent message from Nathanial. Nathanial Monroe. I stare at the name and my mind drifts back in time.PastLocation: South Africa, classifiedThe team had two goals: rescue the hostages and everyone return to camp alive.I blew it and took a bullet to the shoulder. Then I was held in place of the rescued captives. I wasn't afraid, but I was one pissed off Marine.I was secured to a chair with my arms and legs bound. I knew the captain of my team would get the hostages safe and then come back for me. Marines never leave wounded comrades behind-or any comrades for that matter. They would either take me to medical car

PastHeaven. The collection of classic automobiles was every man's wet dream. My mind could barely comprehend the millions of dollars in horsepower within the tall walls of the massive garage. Monroe walked me through the tiled floor, giving me tidbits of background about each vehicle while I tried to keep my drool in check. Yes, I said tiled and there wasn't a speck of dust or dirt on the shiny white surface. The only non-vintage vehicle that drew my attention was a new Porsche 911 GT3. It was no contest when it came time to take a car out. Monroe grabbed a set of keys from a glass case on the wall next to the door. "There is an old airport runway a few miles from here. We will head there and you can open her up.""Do you want to drive to the airport?""No, Zach, this is your chance." Monroe laughed and handed over the keys. "She is all yours for the next hour."If this was a bribe, it was a damn fine one. I had asked very few questions so far, but while I tested the strength of

PastI stayed.The photographer, Melody, was a lovely middle-aged woman. She kissed Monroe on the lips and his hands circled her ass for a squeeze as their lips and tongues danced.Pulling away but leaving his hand possessively on her ass, Monroe's gaze found mine."Zachery, this is my friend and photographer Melody. Melody, meet Zach. He will be observing the photo shoot today.""Hello, Zach. Nice to meet you." Melody's hand came out. "Have you modeled before?"Heat rose into my face and Monroe slapped me on the back."No, he has not," he said as he laughed. "But I am trying to talk him into working exclusively with me."Melody's eyes traveled over my body like I was a prime piece of meat. "You're yummy," she said with a touch of flirtation, "and I would love the chance to photograph you.""Thank you." What else could I say?Stephens showed another woman in and she was introduced as Nessia. She was incredibly exotic with long brown, almost black hair hanging to her waist. He

Current dayI gently knead the aching muscles and tendons of my injured leg while trying to push the ache aside at the sight of the black gates of Monroe's home. The effects of the ibuprofen wore off an hour ago and I need to get out of the car and stretch my leg. Taking pain pills was impossible because I wanted to drive and now I'm paying the price. The gates open and I feel a sense of returning home. It's been this way since my first visit. Even the sight of the ever dour Stephens opening the front door lightens my grumpy, pain-induced mood."Good evening, sir. Master Nathanial is on the phone. I will assist you to your room. Do you require a snack before the evening meal?"It took me a few years to get over Stephens' stiff upper lip and understand the hidden humor behind his uptight, crotchety behavior. "No, Stephens. Are any of the women here this evening?""No, sir, except for Miss Angel, but she is unavailable."Angel isn't the name of one of the usual models, but from time to t