Free Trafficked by Kim Purcell Page A

clothing to wear on the airplane so she’d look more Western going through American immigration, and drilled her with questions the immigration agents would ask her when she entered both Romania and America.
    Before she knew it, Hannah was on an overnight bus from Moldova to Romania, staring out at the dark countryside while a television blasted above her head. She’d noticed one other girl, maybe nineteen, who was glamorous looking with long chestnut hair, deep brown eyes, and more makeup than Hannah ever wore, even to the discotheque.
    At the border, the passengers were forced to get off the bus and file into an empty warehouse with a central glassed-in office area. They waited and waited. An hour. Two hours. Hannah’s legs started to ache from standing so long. She wished she had her book, but she’d left it on the bus.
    â€œHello.” The glamorous girl came up to her and blinked her mascaraed eyelashes. “I’m Ina.”
    The girl was wearing blue jeans that hugged her long legs and looked just faded enough to be real American jeans, Levi’s probably. Hannah wondered if she was a daughter of one of the elites. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of a short, light fur vest, which looked real. Underneath it, she wore a tight tank top, revealing some cleavage, but no more than most girls.
    Normally Hannah wouldn’t talk to someone she didn’t know, but it was different when you were the only two girls at a border stop and you were leaving Moldova for the first time. “I’m Hannah.”
    â€œThey are taking a long time today,” Ina commented.
    â€œThis is my first time out of Moldova,” Hannah said.
    â€œI go all the time. My fiancé lives in Bucharest. He works at a four-star hotel.” Ina raised her sculpted eyebrows. “Do you want to see his picture?” Before Hannah could answer, Ina reached into her purse to pull it out. Hannah looked down. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin, quite typical looking for a Romanian.
    â€œNice,” Hannah said.
    â€œThis is the hotel.” She pulled out a flyer with a picture of a crystal blue pool and a bar surrounded by red stools. “I could get you in if you want to hang out.”
    â€œThanks,” Hannah said, standing up proudly, “but I’m flying to Los Angeles today.” As the words exited her mouth, she nearly gasped at her mistake.
    â€œLos Angeles?” Ina looked impressed.
    Hannah felt sick to her stomach. Olga had specifically warned her not to say anything about Los Angeles at this border. She wouldn’t have documents for America until she met the second agent. She looked at her watch, hoping the border people would get on with it before she made any more mistakes.
    â€œDo you know why they’re making us wait?” Ina asked, like she knew the answer.
    â€œNo.”
    Ina tossed her hair back. “If they delay the bus long enough, they get a bigger bribe.”
    Hannah watched a robust village woman who was talking to a pregnant woman from the city. The villager bent over and spit on the pregnant woman’s belly, three times, for good luck. A British woman standing nearby brought her hand to her mouth, out of shock or humor, Hannah couldn’t tell which. Hannah groaned and wished she could tell the British woman that it was something only villagers did.
    â€œWhat are you doing in Los Angeles?” Ina asked.
    Hannah hesitated but figured Ina was just a girl her age. She wasn’t going to say anything. “I’m going to be a nanny,” she said, lowering her voice, though she was proud she didn’t need to tell her that she was working at the bazaar. She had a future now. She had possibilities.
    â€œOh, well, that’s good if you like that sort of thing.” Ina stroked the front of her fur vest, over her breasts, as if it were a pet.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Hannah asked, insulted.
    â€œCleaning snotty noses is