“What do you think?” the crone demanded.
He leered at Celina. “Very nice. Does she need a little encouragement?” he suggested with a smirking wink.
“One of my special drinks?” the crone suggested.
“Perfect,” he agreed. “But not too much. We don’t want the punters thinking she’ll be no fun.”
Celina had considered that they might try to drug her. She hadn’t come up with an answer for that and would have to think on her feet.
“Leave her to me,” the old woman insisted as she left them to prepare a potion.
“Come, child,” she said, returning a few minutes later. “It’s nice and sweet,’ she coaxed, holding out a smeared glass to Celina, which was full of some thick pink liquid. “Drink it down in one. It will help you and give you confidence.”
She’d be in a daze if she drained the contents of the glass, Celina guessed, though she drank some obediently and then tipped up the glass as if to finish the last few drops. Satisfied, the old woman turned away, giving Celina the chance to spit out the contents of her mouth. Even so, the small amount she’d drunk acted faster than she’d expected, and by the time the crone had led her into the circle of light, the vaulted barn seemed to be bending into fantastic shapes. She staggered and would have fallen if the crone hadn’t hauled her upright again. She could hear the gang laughing in the shadows beyond the circle. Dazzled by the lights, she put up a hand to shield her eyes.
“I told you not to give her too much,” the gang boss complained. His voice sounded as if it was coming down a long, echoing tunnel.
“I gave her just enough,” the old woman countered angrily. “By the time the auction gets underway, the drug will be wearing off, and then she’ll dance if she knows what’s good for her.”
“You’d better be right,” the gang boss threatened.
“I am right. Have I ever let you down before? Let me see you dance a few steps, girl,” she added, prodding Celina with her bony finger.
Celina laughed woozily. She couldn’t have cared less by now. They were about to discover she was a hopeless dancer. She had two left feet at the best of times, and while they were clad in these ridiculous heels, they refused to obey her simplest instruction. Then she thought about Marissa and whether the young girl had been made to dance like this. The pain of that image cut through the muddled signals in her brain faster than anything else could.
“I can dance better than you,” the old woman mocked as she thrust Celina away. “Try again, or I’ll borrow a gun to shoot at your feet, and then you’ll dance.”
She had to stay alive to find out the truth about Marissa. To do that, she had to dance. The men fell silent as she began to move. She heard the whirr of the camera being switched on. Then the music stopped and the crone was back again.
“It’s time to undress,” she explained, plucking impatiently at Celina’s
bikini.
“Do you know a girl called Marissa?”
The old woman stared at her. “What’s it to you?” she snarled, and then the music started up again, and, naked or not, Celina had to dance.
~~o0o~~
“What’s she saying?” the gang boss barked as the old woman manhandled Celina into position in front of the camera.
“Nothing important. She was just asking about a piece of rubbish we buried months ago.”
The horror of this information seeped slowly into Celina’s wounded mind. Marissa was dead? The girl she’d been so fond of and had had such high hopes for had been disposed of like an unwanted rag doll. So much potential lost. All that optimism for a life yet to be lived, callously destroyed by these monsters? Her mission was a failure. Everything she’d planned to do was pointless. Her body ached with grief. Her mind collapsed. Her heart was broken.
What about all the other women like Marissa? Am I going to give up now?
“What’s that she’s wearing?”
As the gang boss asked the question, Celina’s mind cleared. It was as if a safety curtain had just been raised on a stage full of terrible possibilities. If she died, all the women who came after her to this human cattle mart for perverts would die, or be enslaved. She had a duty to stay alive for them.
“It’s an ornament for her working parts,” the old woman explained with sneering approval.
“Has it been scanned?” the gang boss demanded tensely.
The crone shrugged. “She’s been scanned.”
“I said, has it been scanned?” he repeated harshly. “Take it out—or I will,” he threatened.
It was as if she’d been dashed into full awareness with a bucket of cold water when the gang boss brought his face close. Whatever drugs remained in her system were soon chased away by his stinking breath.
“Well, bitch? Will you take out the hoop, or will I?”
“Don’t damage her,” the crone reminded him.
With a grunt of disappointment, he twisted Celina’s nipples instead, making her yelp with pain.
“Get that ring out, bitch,” he snarled with his mouth almost touching hers, and with one final cruel crush of his fingers, he pushed her away.
She was perfectly conscious now and watched as he stroked his gun. Taking out the hoop, she dropped it on the floor. “Oh no,” she exclaimed, scrabbling about on the floor as if she hadn’t meant to let it slip through her fingers. Acting drugged, she staggered about and finally managed to impale the hoop on her stiletto heel. She shook her foot, and stamped down on it repeatedly as if trying to shake off the hoop. She could only hope she’d destroyed the transmitter.
But the gang boss wasn’t stupid. Swooping on the mangled hoop, he held it in front of her eyes. “You won’t be wearing this again any time soon, so if there was a receiver in here, it’s dead now, and you’ll be long gone before the cavalry arrives.”
Bringing his sweaty face close to hers, he grabbed her between the legs and squeezed hard. “If I didn’t have men fighting to buy you, I’d fuck you myself. And then I’d kill you. Now dance. Dance for your life, little lady.”
Chapter Ten
Stationed outside an open window, Diego had heard the thug threaten Celina. His inclination was to burst in and throttle the bastard. It took everything he had to stay put. If he moved too soon, her bravery would count for nothing. They had to round up everyone, the gang, their suppliers, the buyers, and most especially the man at the top of the pyramid. He couldn’t agree with the way Celina had gone about this, but he’d make sure her mission was a success. He’d lay down his life to save hers.
She means that much to me?
More, he determined grimly. Raising Alexei on the radio, he murmured, “Have you got the coordinates you need?”
“On the move with the team,” Alexei confirmed. “Five minutes out. All targets identified. Celina’s done a great job. Not only has she pinpointed the location of the principal running the auction, her tech trail has allowed us to identify the creeps taking part in the bidding. We’ll get them all, Diego. What’s it like there?”
“Like a cattle market without the bonhomie between the farmers.”
Alexei laughed grimly. “Concentrate on Celina.”
He could think of nothing else.
~~o0o~~
She’d come around completely from whatever drug they’d fed her, and was dancing up a storm. Even the gang boss was applauding her dance moves, adding lewd comments and gestures to encourage her to display her body even more. She was a better actress than she’d thought, Celina concluded as the bidding went through the roof. But the old woman worried her. She noticed everything. Her beady black eyes had been narrowed with suspicion since the gang master had mentioned scanning Celina’s hoop.
When the music stopped, Celina guessed the auction had ended. Her elderly jailor approached and threw a blanket around her shoulders. She didn’t want to think about the creep who’d bought her as the gang congratulated each other noisily on their success. There was still no sign of a rescue, but if her colleagues back
at the tech department in Spain had picked up her signals, they should be able to track every miserable pervert who’d taken part in the sale. Even if Blood and Thunder didn’t launch a raid, the destruction of a network of criminals who supported human trafficking was enough.
“Take her and dress her,” the gang boss instructed, rubbing his hands in anticipation of his reward. “Make sure she’s ready to leave in half an hour.”
“Did she make a good price?” the crone inquired.
The gang boss shrugged. “She’s been taken off sale by our principal. He wants her for himself. He’s sending a helicopter to collect her.” He turned to Celina. “You’ve been saved for a special fate. You’ll be used until you’re broken, and then you’ll die.”
“Come with me,” the old woman snapped while Celina was still taking this in.
“Don’t be long,” the gang boss warned as the old woman’s bony hands shoved Celina in the back. “No one keeps Del Roca waiting.” Puffing out his chest, he looked pleased just to speak the name.
The crone seemed equally impressed. “Del Roca,” she commented, nodding her head with approval.
“He’s none of your business, old woman,” the gang boss warned.
“You’ve said too much,” the crone guessed with glee. “You shouldn’t have mentioned Del Roca’s name. Well, at least she’ll be safe from you.”
“If you think that’s a good thing, you’re a fool,” the gang boss sneered, walking over to them. “Del Roca goes through these girls like a hot knife through butter, and when he tires of them, they disappear. Don’t just stand there,” he yelled, scowling at Celina. “Get ready to meet your new owner, bitch!”
Her fate was sealed if she didn’t do something. She’d heard rumors among the Blood and Thunder staff about a murderous thug called Del Roca.
“I said now, bitch!”
The gang boss shoved his gun in her face.
“Give me that gun,” the crone crooned in a tone that Celina guessed was intended both to beguile and to warn him not to deprive Del Roca of his prize. “Before you shoot yourself in the foot, idiot!” she added viciously, snatching the weapon from his hands.
Celina watched as the old woman slipped the gun into her apron pocket. “Don’t worry,” the crone added with a cold glance at Celina. “I’ll keep a close watch on the slut.”
As I will on you, Celina thought as a plan began to form in her mind.
“Rather you than me flying in the big man’s helicopter,” the old woman remarked as she closed the door, enclosing them both in the small dressing room. “You’d better be nice to him if you plan to reach the end of your journey.”
“What do you mean?” Celina was genuinely curious. And frightened by the thought of what lay ahead of her. She had to tear her gaze away from the enticing bulge of the gun in the old woman’s pocket.
The crone laid a forefinger down the side of her nose, as if to demonstrate how clever she was. “If you’re a disappointment to Del Roca, you won’t live long. If I tell you what he does to disobedient young girls, you’ll understand.”
Del Roca. It was coming back to Celina. She remembered the name being spoken in hushed whispers in connection with Dante Formosa, Diego’s friend and fellow polo player on the Blood and Thunder team. There was talk of Dante’s first wife being murdered by a thug named Del Roca. Was this the same man?
The old woman’s screeching laugh snapped her Celina to full attention and made her more determined than ever that she wouldn’t go quietly to her fate. The other victims had had no warning of what was about to happen to them, but she did. The gang would have to drug her again and drag her on board Del Roca’s helicopter. Brave thoughts, but how did she know if the trail of crumbs she’d left behind had been picked up by Diego and the team? All she had was hope, and trust in Diego.
~~o0o~~
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Diego raked his thick black hair in a fury of frustration as Alexei relayed the latest news. “Del Roca’s behind this?”
“Correct,” Alexei confirmed. “We just got a positive ID.”
“You’re sure it’s Del Roca who bought her?” His stomach turned over as he considered Celina’s chances if he didn’t intervene quickly.
“He took her out of the sale and reserved her for himself,” Alexei explained.
A long and frustrating few moments passed when the line between them crackled. “It isn’t like Del Roca to be so careless about revealing his whereabouts,” Alexei added as soon as the line cleared. “He must have known there was a possibility the auction was being monitored. He tuned in late to the proceedings. Perhaps he heard it was someone who worked for us and couldn’t resist hitting out.”
“If he knows she’s one of us, Celina’s chances of survival are zero if I don’t get to her first.”
“So she’s one of us now?” Alexei pressed dryly.
“What do you think?” he exclaimed. This was not the time to play coy. The clock was ticking on Celina’s safety. Del Roca had a long-standing grudge against the team and had been at the top of their hit list for as long as he could remember. “What about the other punters? Weren’t they disappointed when he took her off sale? Just by taking part in the auction, they must have known they risked revealing their locations.”
“No one would go up against Del Roca,” Alexei pointed out.
“Except us,” Diego countered. “But you’re right. A man who takes pleasure tossing young women out of his helicopter isn’t for amateurs to take on.”
It made perfect sense that Blood and Thunder’s nemesis was the man at the top of this pyramid. Diego switched to battle mode. If Del Roca discovered Celina had tricked him, she’d be dead before she took her next breath. No way was the mobster getting his bloodstained hands on Celina. He’d have to come through Diego first.
“If you free her from the barn too soon, Del Roca has no reason to come out of hiding,” Alexei pointed out.
“Are you suggesting I leave Celina in the barn as bait?”
“We’ll be there to back you up as soon as we can.”
“No fucking way, Alexei. I’m getting her out of there now.” It was a race against time to rescue Celina before Del Roca or one of his henchmen arrived.
~~o0o~~
I’m dressed to kill, Celina concluded tensely as she studied her reflection in the flyblown mirror propped up behind the rusty tray in her “dressing room.” The gang was excitedly waiting for the arrival of Del Roca’s helicopter, while she was putting on a bright red Spandex bandage dress that barely covered her naked crotch. The slavers had thought of everything, including providing dresses for their stock to wear once they were sold. Celina had chosen the least suggestive of these, and it still wouldn’t have looked out of place in a whorehouse. The last time she’d thought the phrase “dressed to kill” had been on Diego’s balcony, she remembered, when she’d been staring down at him at his party in Spain.
Missing him was like a sharp physical pain. The shock and grief of losing Marissa only made the risk to Diego’s life seem that much greater. If he had followed her, she’d put him in danger. And she’d done her very best to lure him here with her gizmos and trackers, together with her misguided impression that she could take on the world. If she could have persuaded Marissa to leave the school when she went back for her, the young teaching assistant might still be alive. How many more deaths did Celina want on her conscience before she could accept that she wasn’t a one-man army, holding the fort until the cavalry arrived, as the gang boss had so eloquently put it?
Another pang of longing and fear for Diego hit her hard. The one thing she hadn’t counted on when she came up with this plan was falling in love with him.
She turned as the old woman barged into the room.
“What are you doing in here?” the crone demanded, staring around suspiciously.
“I’m dressing as you instructed,” Celina replied politely.
“Here—put on some of this makeup so you’re pretty for your n
ew owner.” The crone waved a rusty tin full of well-used powder and paint in front of Celina’s nose.
“Thank you.”
She had been so good at hiding her feelings up to now, but as she held the container with its jumble of cheap makeup, it was as if all the ghosts of the other women who’d gone before had returned to beg her to stop any more of them falling victim to the slavers. Just holding the tin sent shivers down her spine and renewed her determination to smash the gang.
“Behave when you leave here,” the crone cautioned, “or that pretty dress will become your shroud.” She rubbed her bony hands together as Celina stepped back from the mirror. “Are you ready to face your new owner?”
“Could I just…” Squeezing her legs together, Celina grimaced.
“Use the bucket,” the crone agreed, “but be quick. And don’t splash that dress.”
“I won’t.”
Shutting the door, Celina counted slowly to ten. Then, kicking off her heels, she used the upturned bucket as a step and heaved herself onto the ledge below the small, grime-coated window. She’d read somewhere that if she could get her head through a space, the rest would follow. It had better be true.
Chapter Eleven
“Del Roca’s not coming,” Alexei rapped in Diego’s earpiece.
“Fill me in.” Gun raised, Diego was speaking into his mic as he skirted the edge of the barn.
“He’s sending one of his trusted henchmen to pick her up instead.”
“He’s got wind of us,” Diego said, calmly rejigging his plan.
“Almost certainly. He’s got spies everywhere, which is why we haven’t caught him yet.”
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