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The doc flinched and raised his eyebrow. “Sir, I will speak with her.
But she’s told me a few times that you make her nervous. She’s quite uncomfortable around you. She, like most of the women on this ship, knows your views on women, sir.” Larry was quick to add the last bit, then cleared his throat as if he’d said too much.

“My views on women?
Would you care to elaborate, Lieutenant?” Eric snapped in a low voice, but he wondered if Abby had heard, as she seemed to visibly start, and her eyes flicked up to him for a brief second before dropping her gaze again. She continued spooning soup into her mouth.

“Oh, how you believe women don’t belong here in the Navy but at home waiting for their husbands. How the man should be the head of the household, and a woman should do right to figure out her place, stop trying to fit into a pair of men’s pants, pretending she’s got a penis. You know, that Old World view that’s gotten you into hot water
time and again. What was it you said to that lieutenant that got you reprimanded from the colonel?”

Eric wanted to knock that smug look off Larry’s face, because he remembered all too well, and so did Larry, what he’d said to that tight-ass game-playing bitch who he’d slept with a few times. She had been good in bed, with long, slim legs, but she’d wanted him and his position to launch her own career, and the first chance she got,
she’d hopped into bed with the commander of the Neilson but forgot to mention it to Eric. Yeah, he’d called her out, almost spat in her face on base and in front of a few officers that women had only one role to play, and it was best done on their backs: having children, looking after them, and keeping their husbands’ slippers warmed, leaving all the decision to the men so as not to clutter up their heads. She’d slapped his face, leaving her imprint, and he’d been ordered to apologize.

“Just deal with her, or I will,” Eric snapped.

“Yes, Captain.”

Eric gestured over the doc’s shoulder. “How is she?”

“Actually, she’s doing pretty good, considering what she’s been through. Her blood pressure’s stable. We’ve managed to get her rehydrated. Considering her advanced state of pregnancy, with those bruised ribs, she has to be extremely uncomfortable every time the baby kicks. Unfortunately, it’ll cause her discomfort for a while yet.”

Eric heard everything the doctor said, but he watched Abby as Larry spoke.

“Captain?” Larry cleared his throat.

“Anything else, Doc?
Can she be moved?”

“She needs to rest for the next few days, stay off her ankle.
You can’t put her on a chopper yet. She’s too far along, but she could be moved by boat stateside to the base hospital in Bahrain. She was worked over pretty good, Captain, so she needs to be monitored for a while yet.”

“Before we move her, I want to talk to her. I’d like to have a word with her now.”

“I just want to check her vitals, and then I’ll let you speak with her.”

“I’d like to speak with her alone, too, Doc.”

Larry paused mid-step and gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Captain, but I feel I need to warn you to take care and not get her worked up.” Larry walked over to the steel counter along the wall beside the exam table. Unlatching a secured drawer, he pulled out a stethoscope, and he stepped closer when Eric gestured.

“The last thing I want to do is upset her.
But I do need to talk to her. Please make sure Carruthers stays gone.”

Larry nodded. Abby finished her
lunch and set the spoon and bowl on the tray. She remained seated, dangling her feet. She appeared distracted as she rubbed her lower back.

“Abby, I want to check your vitals again. Did you get enough to eat?”

She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yes, thank you. It was more than enough.” She smiled pleasantly, and Eric couldn’t help thinking it was something she did because she thought it was expected. It had to be, because he could see, just watching her, how tightly wound she was. Anyone else in her condition would have been complaining and seeking comfort. She seemed to be holding all of it inside, but there would come a point that she’d snap.

Larry looped the stethoscope around his neck and then pulled the table back to help her slide around into bed. She tried to lie down, but he held her arm. “No, I need you to sit up this time.” He gestured to the locker against the sidewall facing the door. “Captain, can you grab me a couple of extra pillows from in there?”

“Sure, Doc.” Eric pulled out two pillows from the locker filled with bedding and other supplies. “Is this enough?”

“Yes, thanks.” Larry positioned them behind her back for support.

Eric lingered by the door and then leaned against the counter as the doc listened to her heart and lungs, taking her blood pressure and temperature again and scribbling notes in a chart.

“I think we can probably remove this, too, Abby.” Larry slid out the IV and covered the back of her hand with a bandage. “You’re doing great, Abby, but I want you to get some rest, too.”

Eric watched the warm smile Larry gave her. What it did was set his blood boiling to the point that he felt his temper simmering just below the surface. He wanted to grab the doc by the shirt collar and send him on his way. Just what the hell was the matter with him? He felt his muscles bunch his back, his shoulders, as they strained his shirt. “Hey, Doc, you want to wrap it up and move on out?”

The way the doctor glanced at him, he must have realized something, as he stashed his equipment in the secured drawers and strode to the door. “If you need me, sir, I’ll be in the mess hall.”

Eric said nothing as he crossed his arms and remained in his stance, the one he’d developed as he fought. Larry swallowed and then left, the door closing with a sharp click. When Eric faced Abby, he saw a woman who wasn’t about to shrivel up and cry but who was watching and waiting for his move, a woman who would take what was handed to her and would most likely deal with it without one whimper or complaint. This rattled him completely and without question.

Eric grabbed one of the steel-back chairs and slid it over beside the bed, lowering his large frame, all solid muscle, into the chair. He knew his size intimidated many, but he also knew he was many a woman’s fantasy, as he’d been propositioned more times than he could count. The last thing he wanted to do to Abby was appear threatening in any way. He leaned forward and inclined his head, staring at doe-like eyes that were bluer than some of the cleanest blue seas in the tropical south. “Abby, it’s time you tell me what happened.”

Her face instantly paled, and again she lowered her head. Her tiny hands fisted into the thin white blanket tossed across her lap.

“It’s okay, Abby. Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please trust me.” He reached out and slid his hand over hers until she relaxed. She glanced at the door, and he wondered for a moment if she wanted to race out of there. What she did do surprised him. She blinked a couple of times and pursed her lips, hardening her young face, and he watched and waited for her response.

“I’m from Seattle. I…” She stopped and cleared her throat roughly. “I was travelling Europe. I went to a nightclub in Paris, and on the way back to my hotel, two men grabbed me and I
was sold to an Arab man. I escaped from his boat, and then you found me.”

He
was stunned by the lack of emotion in her voice, because there was no way a woman could be okay and so matter of fact after surviving that. He knew all too well that women didn’t just reappear in Europe. The human trafficking ring was massive, high powered, and the women who were bought and sold disappeared forever.

“Abby, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. It is what it is. When can I go home?”

He was stunned. He had expected tears, a woman on the edge, as he slid his eyes over her rounded belly. He also expected that the sick, perverted man who’d bought her was also the father of her unborn child. He shuddered to think of how it had happened. “Do you have family in Seattle we can contact?”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as she stared hard at his hand, which still covered hers, until he pulled it away. Maybe his touch repulsed her—possibly, all men repulsed her. When she answered finally, she looked at him with something haunting lurking like a shadow in her eyes. “No, not anymore.”

There was definitely something there, but he didn’t want to push too hard. He also had to realize she
may have been suffering from Stockholm syndrome. This could have been some ploy to get her aboard his ship. “I need you to run through a few details, Abby, but first I need your full name.”

“Abigail Carlton, Abby for short,” she said.

He nodded and crossed his arms. “Tell me, how long ago was it that you were taken from Paris? How long ago was it that you were sold?”

“It’s been three hundred and twenty-two days since I was taken,” she said matter-of-factly.

He’d seen prisoners of war and marines, sailors who’d been captured by the enemy and then released, and they had been a mess, so much so that many hadn’t hesitated to put guns to their heads. Abby seemed so calm when she spoke, but it was her hand that gave her away, trembling so hard she grasped it with her other hand to stop the shake and held it so hard he was sure she would leave a bruise.

“I know this is really hard, Abby. Can you tell me about the day you were taken, about who took you?” He wanted to reach out and put his hand over hers, but he worried that with what she’d been through, she may not welcome his touch. He could see her thinking and holding her jaw rigid as her eyes filled with tears, turning the whites of her eyes red. She cleared her throat roughly.

“I…I.” She stumbled, and her voice cracked. A few seconds passed before she could continue. “I had arrived the day before in Paris. I decided to stop in at a nightclub close to the hotel. I had a drink, danced, and left a few hours later. When I walked out, I didn’t know I’d been followed. At least, I think I was—it happened so fast. A car pulled up and squealed its tires. I was grabbed from behind by some man and forced into the car.

“I don’t know where I was taken, but a hood was put over my head, and I was kept tied up with other women. It was five days of listening to that strange, unfamiliar language, Arabic. I know that now. Then I
was told that I was a gift to a great man. Is that what you want to know, or do you want to know what he did to me? I’d never been with anyone, and he knew it. Apparently that increased my value. He owned me and could do anything to me.”

“Who was he, this man who bought you?” Eric asked her, studying her face, wondering how she could keep talking without falling apart the way women always did. Hell, most of them cried over a hangnail.

She cleared her throat again. “Seyed Hossein was his name. It is his name…if he’s still alive. He was cruel, and I was nothing but something for him to play with.”

“How did you get away, Abby?”

This time, she looked directly at him. Tears popped up and streamed down the side of her face, not in a free-fall but a trickle. She didn’t fall apart, speaking plainly. “Seyed came to the room where I was kept and said he was taking me out. I put on the abaya and veil I had been given, making sure I did everything right. I didn’t want to make him angry, and he angered easily. We left, and I was in the backseat of a car that drove to a marina, and I followed him onto a boat.”

“
Do you know the name of the boat?” he asked as she brushed her hand roughly over her cheek and wiped away the tears.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was dark out, and I
was sent down below and sat on a narrow bunk. I was told not to move.”

“That’s okay. What happened next, Abby?”

“Seyed and the man who drove were arguing about something. I don’t know what because I couldn’t understand them. They were angry, though. Then I heard the engine start up, and the boat began to move.” Abby’s face took an edge as if she was trying to hide her discomfort. She pressed her fingers into her lower back and then leaned to the side, resting on one arm.

“You all right?
Your back sore?”

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t want to…”

He cut her off before she could finish, absolutely furious because she was trying to hide all her pain. “For God’s sake, Abby, if you’re hurting, you’ve got to say something.” Eric stood beside her and held his hand out. “May I?”

She gazed up, a bit startled, and then nodded. “Okay.”

Eric sat beside her on the bed and rested one hand on her shoulder, sliding his other across her lower back and massaging the stiffness. “How does that feel?” he asked. She wouldn’t look at him, but he could feel the tension in her muscles wound tightly, as if they were made of stiff wire that would snap before it would bend. He grabbed the extra pillows on her bed and plumped them higher. “Here, lean back against these. Hopefully that will feel better.”

Abby slid back on the bed and rested against the stacked pillows. He saw her hesitate a second as though waiting for his permission to move.

“Abby, lie down, relax.”

She
nodded, her eyes cast downward, and leaned into the pillows. Then she turned on her side. “Is it all right if I lie this way?”

He couldn’t believe she was asking him this. He felt his throat thicken for whatever had happened to her to break her down so. “Abby, I know I’ve said this, but you’re safe here. You don’t need to keep asking to be comfortable. You need to tell us if something hurts.”