by Elle Kennedy
“You let her go!” Kane’s vision registered nothing but a red haze. “You let her go so she could meet up with a psychopath! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The bedroom door burst open. Morgan took one look at the scene in front of him and let out a curse. “What is going on here?”
Kane held D up by his collar, shaking him hard. “You bastard,” he muttered.
It took him a moment to realize that the other man wasn’t fighting back. He hung limply in Kane’s grip, his face completely emotionless.
Tamping down his disgust, Kane regained his sanity. He swiftly released D and turned his back on the guy. He couldn’t even look at his friend right now.
“Abby’s gone,” Kane said flatly. “D helped her escape.”
Morgan shook his head. “I knew something was up when you told me you opened the garage by accident.” He glowered at D. “What were you thinking?”
“She asked for help. I gave it to her.” There was zero remorse in D’s voice.
“She went to meet Devlin,” Kane said.
“Shit.” Morgan reached up to rub his temples, which couldn’t be hurting more than Kane’s were at the moment. “I should’ve known she’d do something like this. That woman is going to get herself killed.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Kane muttered.
“No way.” Morgan’s tone was hard as steel. “You’re not going after her.”
“Like hell I’m not.” He shot D a cold look. “Where did she go?” When D simply shrugged, Kane had to resist the urge to attack him again. “Where—did—she—go? And if you don’t answer me, I swear to God, I’ll rip your throat out, Derek.”
As if weighing the options, D finally let out a frustrated breath. “Muzo. It’s a small town two hours north of here. I put it in the GPS for her. But you don’t want to go after her, Kane. We’re about to storm Blanco’s fucking compound.”
Frustration seized Kane’s insides and twisted them into hard knots. D was right. He couldn’t abandon his men, not when he’d been the one to convince them to take on this mission in the first place. Anger streaked through him, all of it directed at Abby. She’d put him in an impossible position. Christ, how could she do this? She’d known, when she knocked him out and ran off to meet Devlin, that Kane wouldn’t be able to follow her. That he wouldn’t desert his team.
Unless…
“When is she meeting him?” he snapped.
D sighed. “Right when the auction begins. Seven o’clock.”
“The chopper’s not taking off until eight twenty,” Kane said slowly.
Morgan’s tone took on a note of wariness. “Kane…”
Without a word, Kane marched out the door. Luke and Ethan were in the living room, shoving magazines into the pile of assault rifles on the coffee table. Both looked up in shock when he rushed past them, but he paid them no attention. He found what he was looking for in the den, and when Morgan and D appeared in the doorway a few moments later, he met Morgan’s eyes with the determined set of his jaw.
“Muzo’s an hour from the helipad in Corturo,” he said as he closed the laptop he’d swiped from the desk. “I can make it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Kane—”
“I won’t let that maniac kill her,” he interrupted, feeling his cheeks go hot. “And I won’t leave you in the lurch either.”
“Kane, I know you care about her,” Morgan said, “but—”
“She needs me.” His mouth tightened in a grim line. “Whether she likes it or not.”
Before either of them could object again, he sprinted out of the room, nearly knocking them both over in the process. Two hours north. Abby was probably already there, scouting the area and making sure Devlin wasn’t laying a trap for her. Damn her. He let out a string of expletives, which only got louder and more obscene as he burst into the garage and discovered that Abby had commandeered their fastest vehicle.
He forced himself not to dwell on what she’d done as he ran around the garage like a crazy person, gathering everything he needed. But it was hard not to. She’d knocked him out. She’d run out on him. Hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him what she was doing. She’d trusted D. D, for fuck’s sake. Biting back his anger and resentment, Kane hit the button to open the garage door and slid into one of the armored SUVs parked in the large space.
He was going to kill her.
If Devlin didn’t do it first.
Chapter 20
“This is it,” Isabel murmured.
She and Trevor were being escorted out of the car Blanco had sent to their hotel, and she was troubled to see that the courtyard of his estate was littered with other cars. Isabel counted eleven. She suddenly felt sick. Eleven sick bastards already here, eager to purchase a human being. What kind of world was she living in? What kind of people did these things?
Trevor casually gripped her hand as they climbed the front steps of the house. The sun was just beginning to set, filling the sky with shades of orange, pink, and yellow. Beautiful, actually. She felt even sicker, finding beauty in such an ugly situation.
At least she didn’t have to do this alone. A part of her was incredibly grateful to have Trevor by her side, though she was still a tad apprehensive after last night’s unsettling encounter. He’d almost kissed her. He might deny it, but Isabel knew when a man wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t.
No, of course she wasn’t disappointed. She’d told herself right from the start that she couldn’t get involved with Trevor Callaghan. He was too broken, maybe even beyond repair, and as she held his hand on their way to the house, she forced herself to push aside the troubling thoughts and focus on the task at hand.
As before, Trevor’s weapon had been confiscated at the gate, and although both of them had been subjected to a thorough search, Isabel drew comfort from the fact that none of the guards seemed to be eyeing Trevor and her with suspicion. Morgan had called earlier to give them a heads-up that Blanco might have caught wind of their plan. If Devlin had told his boss about the potential ambush, then Blanco might very well suspect that the Martins, last-minute bidders, could be involved. Even though she and Trevor had been treated with indifference by the guards, Isabel prayed that they weren’t walking into a trap.
She also prayed that Abby didn’t lose her life. Morgan himself had sounded frazzled when he’d told them about Abby’s meeting with Devlin. Granted, Abby could take care of herself, but it was difficult for Isabel not to worry.
When they walked inside, Blanco met them in the front parlor, wearing a black pin-striped suit with a bloodred carnation pinned to his left breast pocket. “Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” he said happily. “It is good to see you again.”
Trevor nodded. “I trust the transfer went smoothly last night?”
Blanco’s dark eyes twinkled. “You wouldn’t be here this evening if it hadn’t.”
The man seemed to be in high spirits. A good sign. Maybe Devlin had actually kept his word and left the compound without saying anything to Blanco.
With a chuckle, Trevor leaned over to nuzzle Isabel’s neck. “Good. My wife and I are very excited to be in attendance.”
“Then if you’ll go with Gerard,” Blanco said, pointing to a solemn guard holding an assault rifle, “he will take you to your quarters. You’ll find a catalog of photographs in your room. As I said before, if you wish for a closer look, Gerard will be happy to take care of it for you.”
“Thank you, Señor Blanco,” Isabel said graciously. She stepped toward him and brushed a seductive kiss on his tanned, wrinkled cheek. “You are a wonderful host.”
Blanco smiled. “Your kind words are greatly appreciated. And I hope we will be able to do business again in the future.”
Hopefully not.
“I hope so as well,” she purred.
Trevor took her hand again, and the pair followed Gerard as he easily navigated the many corridors leading to the west wing of the house.
They reached a wide, elegant hallway with a dozen doors on each side, and the guard led them down the white marble floor to a door at the end of the hall. He unclipped a key ring from his belt, unlocked the door, then gestured for them to step inside. “The door will be locked,” he said in English. “If you need something, knock.”
They entered a room that was as elegant as the hallway leading to it. An enormous bed graced the center of the room, which was furnished with Victorianesque pieces and had thick velvet drapes in dark burgundy hanging at the window. A metal serving cart sat at the other end of the room, featuring a crisp white cloth and a sterling silver ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne.
Isabel rolled her eyes. “How welcoming.”
Trevor unfastened the top button of his suit jacket and strode across the room toward the plush leather sofa with a rectangular-shaped glass coffee table in front of it. On the table was a black leather portfolio case.
Isabel felt uneasy as she watched Trevor pick up the heavy book. “Is that what I think it is?”
He opened the cover, then sucked in his breath. “Yeah.” He quickly snapped the portfolio closed. “Don’t look at it. You won’t like what you see.”
Despite his warning, she was curious by nature. Her satin flats clicked against the polished hardwood floor as she crossed the room. Trevor handed the portfolio to her without a word. She opened it to a random page. Her expression didn’t even change.
“Sit down,” she said quietly. “We need to look through it.”
“I don’t really feel like throwing up.”
“Neither do I, but we have no choice.” She gave an imperceptible nod at the ceiling. “We’re not being recorded, but they’re still watching. We need to do what we’re supposed to.”
“You’re right.” His face remained pleasant, but she could hear the reluctance in his deep voice.
They sat side by side on the small couch and opened the portfolio together. “You’re very interested,” she reminded him.
“And you’re very excited.”
Together, they flipped through the pages, pausing on certain photos. Trevor dragged his finger along particular aspects he found “pleasing.” Isabel clapped her hands together at one point.
All the while choking down the urge to vomit. The photographs were indecent and revolting and made her wish Blanco were standing in front of her so she could strangle the rotten bastard. Children in lewd poses meant only for adults. Naked brown skin. Private, unspeakable body parts that no one should ever have to see.
“This is her,” she said suddenly, stopping Trevor from going to the next page.
He examined the photo. “You sure?”
“She has Inez’s eyes,” Isabel said, her voice soft. “That’s Lucia.”
Lucia Alvaro had earned three pages in Blanco’s dirty book. Shot from the front, the back, the side. Close-ups that made Isabel’s eyes water. Oh God, that poor sweet girl. At the top of the page were the words Item #8.
Staying in character, she gave Trevor a sexy smile and touched his well-defined biceps over his sleeve. “I want to tear that man’s balls off and feed them to Inez’s goat.”
Trevor responded by leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “You’ll have to beat me to it.”
They resumed the show, pretending to inspect each image in great detail, Trevor pursing his lips every few minutes.
Isabel discreetly glanced at her watch. “Seven eighteen,” she murmured.
He pointed to Lucia’s terrified brown eyes, which practically popped out of the photo, screaming at them for help. “Shall we request a closer look?”
Isabel nodded. “Please.”
Getting up, Trevor went over to the door and rapped on the smooth cream-painted wood. The door swung open to reveal Gerard’s questioning eyes. “Yes?”
“We would like a closer look at item number eight,” Trevor announced.
“Right away, señor.”
Devlin was late.
Abby had been killing time for nearly four hours, and she was growing rather impatient.
The Colombian Andes loomed in the distance, rugged brown peaks making jagged slashes in the horizon. A weird scent hung in the air, not unpleasant but oily and earthy, which made sense since this town was apparently known for its emerald mines.
She didn’t know much about emeralds, save that this area produced some of the finest stones in the world. She’d read once that treasure hunters often poached from the mines along the Muzo valley, scavenging the riverbeds and even tunneling into the hillside to search for stones. As a result, the mines were well guarded, but she wasn’t expecting any angry men with guns to show up and accuse her of attempted emerald theft. Devlin had said this particular mine was abandoned.
She’d ditched the motorcycle about half a mile back after the ground went from dirt to rough gray stone, and then she’d climbed a tree and sat there for hours like a damn monkey. Now her ass was sore and Devlin still hadn’t showed his face. Granted, it was only 7:02, but what had happened to punctuality? The only saving grace was that Kane hadn’t shown up either. She’d been afraid that D would tell him where she’d gone. Afraid that Kane would abandon the mission and foolishly come after her.
With a sigh, she shimmied down the tree and landed on her feet with a thump. She could hear the faint trickling of water in the distance. The river must be close by, most likely on the other side of the rocky hill.
For the hundredth time, Abby studied the deserted area. A shadowy opening gaped in the rocks about fifty yards away. She walked toward it, noticing as she got closer that it was the entrance to the mine. Splintered boards crisscrossed the large opening, and a crude wooden sign told her in Spanish that trespassing was forbidden. It also spoke of the hazardous instability of the tunnel ahead.
The fine hairs on her neck stood up suddenly. Finally.
Devlin. She could feel him watching her. Probably from the rock-strewn slope off to the right. She wasn’t worried about being taken out with a sniper rifle. She knew from experience that Devlin preferred a hands-on kill. He liked looking into his prey’s eyes as he sucked the life out of it.
“Stop being dramatic and show yourself!” she shouted. Her voice echoed against the rocks, bouncing back at her ominously.
His familiar chuckle rang in the air. Footsteps sounded from the slope she’d been looking at and then Devlin appeared, deftly navigating the rough landscape as he made his way toward her.
His one eye swept over her, his thin lips curling in a little smile. “You’re looking well. I see Morgan and his men have nursed you back to health.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.” She shrugged. “That eye patch is a touch Pirates of the Caribbean, don’t you think?”
His smile faded. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten who put it there.”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can regain your pathetic pride?”
He didn’t take the bait, but she hadn’t expected him to. He was too smart to lash out irrationally. He simply moved closer, until they were about six feet apart.
“So how’s it going to be?” she said with a sigh. “Ten paces and then draw?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Throw your weapons to me.”
“Who said I’m armed?”
He let out a genuine laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll reciprocate. I think we’ll both enjoy this more if it’s all about brute strength. No distracting bullets.”
She shrugged again. “Sounds good to me.”
Without taking her eyes off him, she removed the Glock tucked into the waistband of her jeans and waved it around before setting it on the ground. Devlin stayed true to his word, revealing his own gun and dropping it. He kicked it away, sending it skittering to the edge of the mine’s entrance. Abby did the same.
“Now the backup,” he said, wagging his finger.
Bending down, she pulled the small derringer from her ankle holster and kicked it away.
Devlin did the same.
“And the knives,” he said in a tone that told her he was truly enjoying himself.
Suppressing a groan, Abby lifted up each pant leg and unsheathed the knives D had given her. Chuckling, Devlin got rid of his own knife. A moment later, they faced each other, completely unarmed.
He crooked a finger at her. “Come on, luv, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Lucia Alvaro wore a filmy white dress that ended at her lower thighs, revealing the pair of tanned, knobby knees below. Her brown hair was long and straight and hung down her back like a shiny curtain. Isabel’s heart squeezed when Gerard led Lucia into the room. The young girl’s eyes were awash with panic, as if she thought Isabel and Trevor might jump on her at any moment.
“Knock when you are finished,” Gerard said in a bored voice. He cast a firm look in their direction. “Remember, Señor Blanco says no touch.”
After he left the room, Isabel gestured for the girl to come closer. Lucia’s gaze darted around like that of a frightened animal.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Isabel said softly.
The girl stared at her blankly, prompting Isabel to switch to Spanish. She repeated the words, and some of the panic in Lucia’s eyes dimmed. “Do you promise?” the girl whispered.
“I promise.” Isabel held out her hand. “Now come closer. Stand in front of us. When I ask you to, turn around.” She swallowed. “And when I ask you to take off your dress, don’t be scared. Remember, we won’t hurt you.”
Lucia’s legs were trembling as she walked toward the sofa. “What is going to happen to me?”
“Nothing, if we have anything to say about it. Do you know why you’re here, Lucia?”
The girl blinked. “You know my name?”
“Yes. And we also know your mother.”
A sheen of tears clung to Lucia’s thick black eyelashes. “Mamá? Is she here?”
“She’s not here. But hopefully you will see her very soon.”
“She can’t just stand here,” Trevor spoke up, pasting a leer on his face for the camera’s sake.