Midnight Rescue

by Elle Kennedy

  Abby followed Lloyd through the sliding glass door that led out to a large stone terrace. She sank into one of the high-backed wicker chairs surrounding the white table, breathing in the fresh, balmy air. “You’re right,” she said to Lloyd as he handed her the coffee mug. “It’s gorgeous out.”

  “At least one of you appreciates it,” Lloyd responded. He set Kane’s mug on the table and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Where’d Morgan find that guy?” she asked, watching as Lloyd ducked to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe. “The Dallas Cowboys?”

  “Nothing so glamorous. He was working as a Mob enforcer in Boston when he and Morgan crossed paths.” Kane lifted his cup to his lips and took a long sip. She couldn’t help but be drawn to his mouth. It was far too sensual. Wide, with a bottom lip slightly fuller than the top one. His mouth was his only soft feature. Everything else about him was hard, rugged, piercing.

  “Checking me out?” he quipped, eyeing her over the rim of the mug.

  “Trying to figure you out,” she corrected. “How’d you meet Jim?”

  “He approached me after I left the SEALs. I’ve been working for him for eight years now.”

  “You were a SEAL?”

  He nodded. “So was Luke, but he was with the East Coast teams. I was with the West. What about you? How did you end up working for Noelle?”

  Abby sipped her coffee, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat. “She found me when I was doing contract work for the CIA. She made me a better offer and I took it.”

  Kane looked intrigued. “Did she train you, or was that Jeremy Thomas?”

  Her throat clogged at the sound of Jeremy’s name. She stayed quiet. She didn’t like talking about Jeremy. He’d died seven years ago, yet the loss was still fresh, a painful vise that squeezed her heart.

  “Tell me,” Kane asked curiously, “why did an Army Ranger decide to adopt a fifteen-year-old foster kid?”

  “You’d have to ask Jeremy that,” she answered in a cool voice.

  “I’d like to, but apparently he’s dead,” Kane said bluntly. “Want to fill in the blanks?”

  “No.”

  “I thought so.”

  “On the plane you told me you knew Devlin,” she said suddenly. “I want to know about him.”

  Kane narrowed his eyes. “Why? Are you planning on launching a second attack on him?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to try to come after me.”

  “Because you tore his eye out.”

  “Yeah, and because he couldn’t break me. He seems like the type of man who doesn’t handle failure very well.”

  Kane laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

  “I found only the bare details when I researched him before going undercover. I need to know more. What am I up against?”

  “Take your definition of sick bastard and multiply it by ten thousand. That’s Devlin.”

  She sighed. “That bad?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “I know he was born in Liverpool, raised by his father. His mother was South African and died in childbirth. That’s all I managed to find out.” She took another sip of coffee. “Do you know more about his background?”

  “More than I want to know,” Kane said, letting out a breath. “He left England and moved to South Africa when he turned eighteen, wanted to learn more about where his mother came from. Turned out she came from a shady family that had been smuggling diamonds into Liberia for years. Devlin dabbled in smuggling for a while but decided the family business bored him. He found being a soldier for hire far more exciting.”

  “And you know all this how?”

  “Morgan was considering hiring him. He came on an extraction gig with us, about eight years ago, but he had a violent streak none of us liked. So Morgan cut him loose. Devlin went to work for Blanco a couple years later.”

  “His dream job,” she said, sarcastic. “He gets to beat and torture people all day long.”

  “Not many people survive his interrogations.” His green eyes searched her face. “Why didn’t he kill you, Abby?”

  She shrugged. “Blanco had other plans in mind for me.”

  “I take it you’re not going to share those plans with me.”

  “I can’t.” She curled her fingers over the handle of the mug, a wave of desperation rising in her chest. Damn it, she shouldn’t be here. She needed to get back to Bogotá, needed to plan an attack. She’d been in perfect position before Kane and the men decided to rescue her, and now she’d be forced to start from scratch, figure out a new way to rescue those girls before Blanco sold them off like cattle.

  Damn it.

  “We can help,” Kane said roughly. “Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, you don’t need to do it alone.”

  She met his gaze, startled by the intensity in his eyes, the sincerity of his voice. For a moment she was tempted to spill everything. Tell him about the girls she so desperately wanted to rescue. Tell him why it was so important to her. But in her entire twenty-eight years, she’d opened up to only two people. One was dead. The other didn’t know the meaning of judgment.

  Would Kane judge her if she told him about her past, the things she’d done to stay alive?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  Either way, she couldn’t trust him. He was a stranger to her. And a good-looking stranger to boot. Those movie star looks alone were reason not to trust him.

  Lifting her mug, she took another long sip, then said, “Alone is the only way I know how to do things.”

  “I assure you, the festivities will go on as planned,” Blanco was saying as Devlin marched outside.

  Holding the phone with one hand, Blanco raised his other one when he noticed Devlin. An order for silence. Tightening his lips, Devlin drifted across the terrace to the iron railing overlooking the yard. He stared down at the lavish kidney-shaped swimming pool below, surrounded by healthy green foliage and colorful exotic flowers. Trying to control his impatience, he listened to Blanco’s half of the conversation, battling the impulse to grab the bloody phone and whip it into the pool.

  “There won’t be a raid, Juan,” Blanco told the caller in a reassuring tone. “The assault you’re referring to has been highly overexaggerated. The men involved weren’t government. I have everything taken care of.” He paused. “I know you’ve invested a large amount of money in this invitation. Everything is under control… Yes, I know… My solicitor will be in touch with details by the end of the week.”

  Blanco was fuming as he hung up the phone.

  “Will Juan Cortez be a problem?” Devlin asked with a pleasant smile.

  “Damn that woman,” Blanco said without responding to the question. “I ordered the guards not to speak of last night’s activities, but word seems to have gotten out. The bidders are growing uneasy.”

  “You could always cancel the auction,” Devlin said in a bored voice.

  “Cancel it?” Blanco sounded outraged. “I will do no such thing. This is going to be something extraordinary, the festivities we’ve planned. Dear Devlin, we are offering a service no one else in the world would even dare advertise!”

  Devlin didn’t give a bloody rat’s ass about Blanco’s auction. As far as he was concerned, they had more pressing matters to deal with. He reached up to rub his eye, grimacing when he encountered the coarse material of the ridiculous eye patch one of the guards had brought back from the market. As his impatience spilled over, he twisted his mouth in a lethal scowl. “Why isn’t the jet ready?” he snapped. “I told you I wanted to head out this morning.”

  Blanco’s features hardened. “Don’t speak to me that way. And to answer your question, the pilot reported engine trouble. It should be taken care of in a few hours.”

  “I don’t have a few hours. I want to slit the woman’s throat, Luis.”

  “And how will you do that?” Blanco said coldly. “You haven’t even uncovered her true identity yet.”

  “No, but now that we know Morgan was
involved, it shouldn’t be hard to find her.” He paused. “And I think you should consider my suggestion—postpone your main event, Luis. If Erica was working for the government—”

  “Then agents would have attempted a raid days ago,” Blanco said with a careless wave of his hand. “She must have been after me, and not the merchandise.”

  Devlin was about to argue, but then thought better of it. Let Blanco have his misguided sense of invincibility. Devlin would recapture the woman before she could do any damage anyway.

  “I shall take my leave, then,” Devlin said, stalking toward the French doors leading into the house.

  Blanco’s voice stopped him. “And may I ask what you plan on doing to the woman when you find her?”

  He turned and gave a humorless smile. “What I do best, of course.”

  Chapter 6

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Noelle demanded, her beautiful face glittering with anger and disapproval.

  Abby stood her ground. The fact that she was several inches taller than Noelle should’ve helped her cause, but Noelle had always seemed much larger than her five feet three inches. Especially when she was furious.

  “I know. I fucked up.” Abby sighed. “I had the chance to kill him but I chose not to, okay?”

  “I don’t care that you didn’t kill him—I care that you nearly got yourself killed!” Noelle’s blue eyes flashed, but the hand she laid on Abby’s arm was oddly gentle.

  When Noelle had stormed onto the terrace a few minutes ago, she’d looked ready to throttle someone. She’d coldly dismissed Kane, banishing him to the kitchen, yet Abby could feel his eyes watching them. Noelle had spun around, moved closer as if she wanted to embrace Abby, then stepped back and started tearing into her. Abby didn’t blame her. The people who’d hired them had spent a great deal of money to ensure that Blanco would meet his demise, and she knew Noelle would need to do some serious ass-kissing to smooth out the situation.

  That Noelle claimed not to care that Abby had failed in her mission came as a shock. They’d known each other for more than seven years, and this was the first time Noelle had come close to showing genuine concern for Abby’s well-being. Abby knew she cared, but Noelle didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve. Never had.

  “I was fine,” Abby said defensively, leaning one elbow on the railing that ran around the stone terrace. “Blanco didn’t want me dead.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Noelle snapped. “Your face is every color of the rainbow, and I can see you’re having trouble breathing—don’t bother denying it.”

  “Okay, I’m a little beat-up, but I’m alive, and I would’ve stayed alive.”

  Noelle leaned her lithe frame against the rail, her blond hair falling down her shoulders. “Why?” she asked sharply.

  “Why what?”

  “You blew your cover. I want to know why.”

  Abby let out a breath, wincing. Noelle was right—it hurt to breathe. Damn rib injuries. A bullet or knife wound she could handle, but taking a hit to the ribs was always a bitch. “About two weeks ago, Inez Alvaro, Blanco’s housekeeper, stormed into the dining room screaming like a banshee, accusing Blanco of kidnapping her daughter.”

  Noelle frowned. “All right.”

  “Inez’s husband, Rubio, is one of Blanco’s drug runners. They live in a village a few miles from the compound. I went there a few times with one of the servants.” Abby swallowed. “I met Lucia. She’s a beautiful girl, thirteen years old and unbelievably smart. She wanted to learn English, so I offered to help and I swear, she picked up the language so fast—”

  “I see where this is going,” Noelle said with a groan. “Damn it, Abby. What is it with your need to play mommy to every fucking girl you meet?”

  “He’s selling her.”

  Noelle blinked. “What?”

  “After Inez’s outburst, I spoke to Luis and he actually gloated about it, saying he took Lucia because he found out Rubio was stealing from him, skimming from the drug profits. The daughter’s suffering was the father’s punishment.” Her chest ached again, and this time it had nothing to do with her sore ribs. “At that point he trusted me, and he told me he had a surprise, something he thought I would enjoy. He took me to the prison, to a trapdoor that led to the tunnel system under the compound. There’s a bunker down there.”

  “Where he’s holding Lucia,” Noelle finished.

  Abby shook her head viciously. “Not just her. There were others. About a dozen of them, Noelle. Between eleven and sixteen years old.” Bile clogged her throat. “He told me to pick one out. So we could play with her together.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Oh fuck is right. Blanco is impotent, but he gets off on power, and he wanted to see me screw one of the girls.” She fought for breath. “I made a big thing about how I’m not into women, how they disgust me. So he locked up the bunker and took me back to the main house. Made me screw one of his guards instead.”

  She felt dirty just saying the words out loud, but it had to be done. Noelle needed the details—all the details—before she agreed to get involved. And at this point Abby needed her boss on board.

  “I did some snooping and managed to fill in the blanks,” she continued. “Blanco’s holding an auction. Apparently he’s done it before, sold off young girls to interested bidders. They pay a price to attend, and the girls are paraded in front of them like pieces of meat.”

  “And you couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Noelle mumbled.

  Abby stiffened. “No, I couldn’t. I found out that the only way down to the bunker is through the prison, but I couldn’t get Blanco to take me back there again. He had guards on me at all times. So I decided to get caught.”

  “God, Abby, that’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. How could you be certain he wouldn’t kill you outright?”

  “I dropped enough hints to convince him I might be government and that I’d been checking in with my supervisor.” She shrugged. “He wanted Devlin to interrogate me.”

  “And then?” Noelle asked darkly. “What did he plan for you?”

  “He was going to put me up for auction.” Abby gave a humorless smile. “He figured some of the prospective buyers might want a female with a bit more maturity.” She paused. “I know you were worried about me and that’s why you sent Morgan and his team, but damn it, I wish you’d given me more time.”

  “So Blanco and Devlin could slit your throat?”

  “So I could rescue those girls.” Desperation crept into her voice. “I have to go back, Noelle. Please, you need to help me find a way back.”

  A short silence fell between them. Abby could see Noelle’s shrewd brain working, going over all the information that had just been fed into it.

  Abby waited patiently. Her boss didn’t like to be rushed.

  The nape of her neck suddenly tingled, and she slowly turned her head to find Kane standing by the glass door separating the kitchen from the terrace. His green eyes were stoic, his handsome jaw set in an uneasy line as he watched her.

  Again, that burst of heat ignited in her belly. She couldn’t seem to stop noticing how gorgeous he was. He was a big man, with a lean, muscular body that hadn’t been sculpted in a gym. He radiated strength, and it wasn’t hard to picture him soundlessly creeping through a jungle or hanging off a helicopter.

  Why was her body responding to him? She had no problem using sex to achieve her goals, but she derived no pleasure from it. Sex was just another form of violence. And she already had enough of that in her life.

  “I think this is a suicide mission,” Noelle said frankly, jerking Abby out of her thoughts. “And I’m not a crusader, honey—you know that. Those girls… Fate has given them a bad deal.”

  “They’re being sold as sex slaves,” Abby said through clenched teeth.

  “Luck of the draw. You can’t save everyone, hon.”

  Somehow Noelle’s callous attitude didn’t surprise her. It did, however, annoy the shit out of her. F
ine, so maybe those girls had been dealt a crappy hand, but if someone had the opportunity to save them, shouldn’t they try to alter fate?

  “What if Jeremy had decided not to save me?” she said softly.

  “Then you would have saved yourself. You’re a warrior, Abby.”

  “But Lucia and the other girls aren’t like me. They’re fragile and innocent and I can’t let this happen to them.” She curled her fingers over the edge of the railing, her body tight with desperation. “Please, help me save them. I know there’s still some shred of humanity left in you, Noelle. You act tough, saunter around like a coldhearted bitch, but I know you remember what it’s like to be helpless.”

  Noelle’s shoulders tensed.

  “You remember how it feels to be at the mercy of someone more powerful than you,” Abby went on, her voice quiet. “So for fuck’s sake, help me.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  Kane turned his head as Lloyd came up beside him. Lloyd’s gaze was focused on the two women on the terrace, though Kane wasn’t sure which one the compliment had been directed at. Probably Noelle, who once again wore all black, with her golden hair streaming down her back. Abby was in the sweatpants and T-shirt Kane had dressed her in back in Bogotá. He’d thought about sending Ethan into town to buy her some clothes, but Noelle had beat him to it. She’d dropped three shopping bags jammed with clothing on the kitchen floor before marching out to the terrace to give Abby a piece of her mind.

  The two women hadn’t even embraced, he’d noticed with perplexity. Noelle had simply ordered Kane to leave, then unleashed what looked like a vicious reprimand on Abby. What kind of relationship did they have? Boss-employee? Nah—they looked a lot closer than that. Mother-daughter, maybe, though Noelle couldn’t have been much older than Abby. But there was a definite bond between them—anyone could see that. Even now, with their eyes blazing at each other and the muffled angry voices he could make out from behind the glass, it was evident the two women respected—even cared about—each other.