Capturing Caleb (Knight Security 3)

by Carole Mortimer

  Once on the island, the four women had been taken to a white one-story building, and all locked in separate cells. There were bars at the single shuttered window and a camera in the corner of the room, monitoring their every move.

  Lena had very quickly grown to hate that camera, knowing she was watched day and night, her privacy deliberately taken from her, along with her dignity. The only thing that made it in the least bearable was the knowledge she wasn’t alone, that the three other women from the farm in England were also here.

  Until slowly, one by one, those other young women had been taken away, never to return. She realized now they had probably given up and acquiesced to Spiro’s demand for obedience and submission.

  Alone, terrified, and, yes, disgustingly filthy, Lena still refused to give in and had received punishment after punishment for her stubbornness.

  Oh, nothing that would damage the merchandise, as she had heard herself referred to on more than one occasion. As if she were no longer a person but a thing to be bought and sold at Spiro’s whim. No, her punishments had been much more subtle than physical chastisement.

  Kept locked and isolated in that small room with white walls, a white floor, and white ceiling, she couldn’t see even a piece of blue sky or green foliage through the shuttered window. A bucket sat in the corner for her use. Only a mattress was thrown on the floor for her to sleep on, but it had no blankets.

  She was denied food for days on end.

  On one occasion, they had given her no water to drink, let alone wash with, until she almost died from dehydration.

  They removed her clothes so she was left naked and vulnerable for her guards to leer and jeer at.

  Lena had been able to feel those same guards avidly watching her through that intrusive camera.

  And every day, she would be asked the same question, told the punishments would stop once she willingly agreed to obey the man who now claimed to own her.

  Difficult to believe only three months ago, she had been happy and living in London, nanny to a little boy she had quickly come to adore.

  A little boy who had been abducted at the same time she was.

  She had no idea where Daniel was now. Spiro and his guards refused to tell her, as they refused to answer any of her questions. But Lena knew Daniel’s mother would never stop looking for him. And hopefully Lena too?

  It was the only hope she had left to cling to, that someone would eventually rescue her from this hell.

  Spiro’s ultimatum indicated the time for rescue had run out.

  “Magdalena!”

  She refocused on Spiro as he sat in a white leather chair. A slighter and much younger blond-haired man stood behind his chair, the bored expression on his handsome face saying he was totally uninterested in their conversation.

  It was the first time Lena had been let out of her prison and brought to Spiro in the elegant sitting room of his villa built high on a hill overlooking the sea. Which sea, Lena had no idea, although the shortness of the flight here all those weeks ago would seem to indicate it was the Mediterranean or Aegean. Possibly the latter, as Spiro was a Greek name.

  If that were the case, then she was close to where her parents lived in Spain. To where Angela Sinclair lived in London, hopefully with Daniel back at her side.

  Perhaps if Spiro would tell her Daniel, at least, was safe and returned to his mother…

  She glanced at Spiro from beneath her lashes. He was possibly in his early fifties, rotund, and about her own height of five feet six inches, with a deceptively round and jovial face. A man most people would no doubt find affable, even likeable, but whom Lena had quickly learned to loathe.

  She raised her chin. “You give me no choice but to concede.” Or be given to his security guards, who would no doubt fall on her like a pack of ravenous dogs. She had seen the way Costos and those other men looked at her.

  Besides, after weeks of fighting, she knew there was no way she could escape if she remained locked in her cell. And escape she would, or die trying. She would never willingly be made into any man’s sex slave.

  “But first you must assure me Daniel has been safely returned to his mother,” she added even as Spiro’s eyes lit up in triumph.

  “I must assure you…?” His voice was deceptively soft, eyes now narrowed to dangerous slits.

  A tremor of fear ran through her, and her knees literally trembled. “I would very much appreciate it if you could assure me Daniel is safely back with his mother,” she amended, hating the timidity of her tone, but so desperately needing to know Daniel was safe.

  “Better.” Spiro’s brow cleared, and he nodded to stay the guard as he would have stepped forward to remove her. “I will, of course, need proof of your future compliance.”

  She swallowed. “What sort of proof? If you expect me to become your fuck buddy—”

  “Absolutely not.” Spiro gave a shudder. “My…tastes do not lean in the female direction,” he dismissed, turning to smile reassuringly at the young blond-haired man standing behind him as he stepped forward and placed a proprietary hand on Spiro’s shoulder. “No, I have a very important guest arriving later today. It is my wish you will be a good girl and…entertain him during his stay here.”

  Her stomach churned at the thought of what that entertainment might entail. “You expect me to have sex with a complete stranger?”

  Spiro’s mouth tightened. “I expect you to do whatever my guest requires you to do. If not…” He gave another of those uninterested shrugs.

  “And Daniel?”

  “If you please my guest, I might be persuaded into telling you what has happened to Master Daniel.”

  Lena swallowed the nausea that had risen in her throat, knowing this concession was all she would get from Spiro.

  Part of her wanted to spit in this man’s face, to tell him to go to hell where he belonged. But another part of her, the part in all human beings that clamored to survive at any cost, warned her Spiro meant it when he said he was asking her this question “for the last time.” That if she didn’t agree now, he would, without hesitation, hand her over to his ten bodyguards as their plaything until she begged and pleaded for it to stop.

  “Very well.” She nodded abruptly.

  Being released from her prison, allowed to wear clothes again, would at least give her back the dignity that had literally been stripped away from her during her months of imprisonment.

  The same freedom she hoped would allow her to somehow escape…

  “Good.” Spiro bounced jovially to his feet. “You will now be taken to one of the bedrooms upstairs by Costos, and I will send someone to pamper you and help dress you suitably in time for the arrival of my guest.”

  Maybe this guest, whoever he was, might help her if she told him what had happened to her these past three months.

  “And Magdalena…” Spiro smiled as she paused in the doorway to turn and look at him. “Do not think to make any sort of tearful appeal for sympathy regarding your plight to my guest. He knows exactly what you are and will have no patience with any tearful pleas from you for help.”

  Lena’s hands clenched tightly as Spiro deliberately and maliciously took that hope away from her. She squeezed so tightly, her long nails dug into her palms, piercing the skin and drawing blood.

  “The name of my guest is Dmitri Volkov,” the Greek informed her lightly.

  Her eyes widened. “Russian?”

  “Bratva.” Spiro nodded, dark eyes gleaming with malice. “And if you think I am a monster, then I assure you Mr. Volkov is ten times worse.”

  Oh God…

  Chapter 3

  “We will escort you to Mr. Dukakis in the main villa.”

  Caleb nodded, his eyes cold as he slid on dark sunglasses and followed two of Dukakis’s burly bodyguards from the helo pad on Petros. He kept his silence as the two men sat in the front of the black SUV to drive to the Greek’s white villa sitting on top of the hillside a short distance away.

  There was no
denying it was a beautiful island, lush and fertile, with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the Mediterranean. It should have been paradise, but instead Caleb knew it had become a hell on earth for many young women, possibly including Magdalena. They were here to be subdued, before Dukakis sold them to the highest bidder.

  Once Caleb had Magdalena safe, he had every intention of ripping this hellhole apart, and Dukakis along with it.

  Once he had Magdalena safe.

  As Caleb and Nikolai had suspected, Caleb and his luggage had been thoroughly searched and the gun removed from his shoulder holster before he was allowed to embark on the flight in Dukakis’s jet. All while being escorted by two of Dukakis’s burly and silent bodyguards.

  Caleb had ignored their presence, as he knew Nikolai would have, but he sensed their unease in his broodingly silent company. Which was exactly the effect he wanted.

  He spent that time and then the short hop by helo to the island going over and over again inside his head all the scenarios of what he might find when he got to Petros.

  Lena had been a prisoner for three months now, the first weeks in England, but the last eight, he believed, on this island in the Mediterranean.

  Months when she might have been beaten, or worse, by her captors.

  Whatever had been done to her, Lena would have learned not to trust anyone during that time, least of all a Russian associate of Spiro Dukakis.

  Caleb had to convince her otherwise in the short time he had, in whatever way he could.

  Once he’d managed to speak to her at all, that is.

  Not only were there always two guards in or outside the building where he believed she was being kept, but hacking into Dukakis’s security system had told him there were cameras everywhere, in the building where he believed Lena was being held prisoner, in the grounds, and in the main villa itself.

  Caleb had made light of all those things when he was speaking to Nikolai, but somehow he had to get past all those security cameras and convince Lena he was here to rescue her.

  Well, “easy” has never been my middle name.

  It would have been easier eight years ago if he’d just told the Afghan rebels what they wanted to hear.

  It would have been easier if he hadn’t had to carry a badly wounded Gabriel out of the fighting after his brother came to rescue him.

  It would have made his life so much easier if he wasn’t haunted by nightmares of his own time in captivity.

  And it would have been much fucking easier if he had never seen the photographs of Lena Roig as she laughed into the camera while playing with Daniel, and known he wanted her for himself.

  Irrational.

  Obsessive.

  But true.

  So fucking true, Caleb hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for a single moment since. Everything about her called out to something deep inside him. That dark auburn hair. The warmth in her eyes. The glow in her cheeks. Lips he could kiss forever, along with her tenderly arched throat. As for the pertness of her breasts and the sensuous curve of her hips… His hands clenched, aching to touch her, to caress her.

  He had to stop this. Stop it now if he was going to convincingly play the part of Russian badass Dmitri Volkov and at the same time show none of the murderous rage he was really feeling toward Spiro Dukakis.

  “How good to meet you at last, Mr. Volkov.” Dukakis spoke in English, coming forward to greet Caleb warmly when he was shown into a sitting room comprised mainly of white furniture and marble floors. Dukakis’s rotund and jovial demeanor hid the black and rotten heart of a bastard who sold women for other men’s pleasure, just so he could add to his billions. “You did not bring any of your own men with you?”

  Caleb ended the handshake almost before it began, taking care not to reveal any of his distaste at touching the other man. Having removed his sunglasses on entering the villa, he was careful to keep any of that disgust from showing in his eyes either. “Do I need my men with me?” His voice was accented and slightly gruff. His false identity claimed Dmitri had only recently left Russia for the first time.

  The older man’s eyes widened. “For your security?”

  He quirked a dark brow. “Am I at risk here?”

  “Well. No. Of course not,” the flustered Greek said. “I am just surprised.”

  Caleb shot the two men near the door a contemptuous glance. “I assure you I am more than capable of defending myself if necessary.” He had appreciated Nikolai’s offer to send a couple of Markovic’s men with him, but Caleb didn’t want to involve anyone else in what could, he knew, be a waste of everyone’s time if Lena wasn’t still on the island. Nor did he want to bring his brothers’ wrath down on more people than was necessary. “I would like my gun returned to me now.” He made it a statement, not a question.

  Spiro smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “I assure you, you will have no need of a gun here.”

  Like fuck I don’t. “What is the saying? I feel naked without it?” Caleb bared his teeth in a facsimile of Nikolai’s wolfish smile.

  “But of course.” Spiro nodded to one of the two bodyguards who lingered in the doorway. The man stepped forward and handed Caleb the gun he had tucked into the back of his waistband when he took it from Caleb earlier.

  Caleb weighed the gun in his hand. “It is no use without the bullets.” He looked challengingly at the older man.

  Dukakis’s mouth tightened before he nodded a second time to the bodyguard. “How is your dear cousin Nikolai?” the Greek prompted once Caleb had reloaded his gun and returned it to the shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

  “Well.”

  “How was your flight?”

  “Good.”

  “My staff took good care of you?”

  “Da.”

  “May I offer you a drink?”

  “Nyet.”

  “I see, like your cousin, you are a man of few words.” Dukakis laughed, as if he had told a funny joke.

  There was no answering humor from Caleb. “I am here to discuss business, not make trivial conversation.”

  A flash of anger appeared in the Greek’s dark eyes before it was quickly masked. “But one can learn such a lot about people in a social setting.”

  Exactly what Caleb didn’t want. “I am not a social man.”

  “So I have heard.” Dukakis gave a wave of his hand to indicate Caleb should join him as he sat in one of the white leather armchairs beside the huge bay window looking out over the Mediterranean.

  Caleb lowered his six foot four frame into the chair opposite the Greek. “What else have you heard about me?”

  “That you were a very bad boy before leaving Russia, and your arrival in England coincided with Clive Sinclair being arrested. Leaving the way clear for you to take over some of Sinclair’s…business dealings.” Dukakis quirked a mocking brow.

  Caleb met the other man’s gaze challengingly. “Pure coincidence, I assure you.”

  Dukakis chuckled. “I do not believe in coincidences, Dmitri.”

  Knight Security, the Knight brothers in particular, had been the ones instrumental in bringing Sinclair down, but if Dukakis chose to believe Dmitri Volkov had been involved, so much the better. “Neither do I.” He allowed an enigmatic smile to curve his lips.

  “As you do not require refreshment, perhaps you would like to go to your suite and freshen up after your travels? I have something of a…special surprise for you at dinner,” he added.

  “I do not like surprises.”

  “You will like this one,” the Greek assured him with relish. “She is to be your…companion for the duration of your stay. So beautiful, but with a fiery spirit. An example, if you will, of the standard of merchandise I have come to expect.”

  Oh shit.

  It hadn’t even occurred to Caleb that more women might have been brought to the island since they were last able to get infrared images. Or that his host was expecting him to fuck one of them.

  “She is still a little sk
ittish,” Dukakis excused, “and will be severely punished if you have any complaints as to her compliance, to your preferences.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “If it becomes necessary, I would prefer to administer my own punishment,” Caleb said coldly. “In fact, I insist on it.”

  “You really are a very naughty boy.” The Greek chuckled. “This punishment will not be a lasting one, I hope?” He frowned his concern. “I have arranged a buyer for her after you leave.”

  Caleb wanted to ram this man’s teeth down his throat. Dukakis, whatever his sexual preferences were, actually got off on even thinking of Caleb physically punishing this woman. Just as he had no doubt the Greek would enjoy watching that punishment through the camera feed that was sure to be in Caleb’s bedroom.

  As for selling this woman…

  “If she is as beautiful as you say she is, perhaps I might wish to keep her for myself.” He instantly realized his mistake as the older man’s eyes widened in surprise. He and Nikolai had let it be known Dmitri Volkov was as much a lone wolf as his cousin, and a man who didn’t suffer fools gladly. “I would sell her once she is fully acquiescent, of course.”

  The Greek looked interested. “Is that to be part of the service you offer in future?”

  The only thing Caleb was offering for this man’s future was a lengthy jail sentence.

  He nodded. “I am sure we can come to some sort of financial arrangement, if that is your wish.”

  Spiro sighed. “I have to admit, it can sometimes be a little tedious to convince these women they have no choice in their future.”

  Caleb had known this was going to be difficult, but even so, he only just stopped his hands from reaching out and tightening around this man’s throat. Or connecting with the man’s impassive face.

  These women were people. With family, lovers, and friends who loved them and mourned them when they simply disappeared.

  Somewhere in this villa, there had to be records of who these women were and to whom they had been sold. Caleb intended finding those documents and making it his next mission to locate and ensure as many of those women were returned to their loved ones as soon as possible.