“She’s a looker, boss, I told you.” A familiar face strolled through an archway.
Hannah stared, aware her jaw was unhinged and dropping, but never in her life had she expected this.
D-Dylan? She sucked down a breath. How? Why? What? There wasn’t time to collect herself from the shock of seeing him. It was all happening far too fast.
“She’d better be worth the effort.” A man who, until now, had stood back began circling.
If she had to fear one person in this room more than the others, her gut said it was this man. He was a shark, and if she didn’t watch him, he’d strike.
What was Dylan doing here? She couldn’t accept he was there, that he was part of it. But her brain was already clicking things into place. Was this why he’d hassled her about Mexico? Why he insisted they keep a dead-end relationship alive?
“She is pretty.” The other man strolled toward her. He reached out and she flinched, but there was no way to escape him. He jerked the gag down around her neck.
She jerked against the handcuffs in a vain attempt to get away.
“You’re Cruz.” She gasped for breath.
“And you have cost far too much time and effort if you are not what he says you are.” Cruz tilted his head slightly to the left, toward Dylan.
What had Dylan said? What was she supposed to be?
Hannah gulped and clung to the chain connecting the cuffs.
“Are you a virgin?” Cruz asked.
She flinched at the question.
Who asked that? Why did it matter?
And why was it any of his business?
Did he know she’d slept with Mason?
The memories still made her cheeks hot.
She couldn’t answer the question and not lie. It was clearly important. Why? What did her virginal status matter to anyone? Especially if this disgusting man wanted to—to—sell—her. She swallowed hard.
Not a damsel in distress.
“My name is Hannah. Hannah Stevens. I have a family, people who care about me. Do you understand that?” She was a person. A human being. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“She’s a virgin all right.” Dylan circled her to stand next to Cruz.
“You know this, how?” Cruz’s brows lifted, but he never once glanced away from Hannah.
“I’m right fucking here.” Her voice broke, rising higher until she was screeching. If the man was close enough, she’d kick him. Her feet weren’t tied up.
Cruz gestured toward her. “Take lot fifty-four. Clean her up, but don’t hurt her. We’ll list her as a virgin and Nador will want her. Make sure to drive the price up. No one touches her, understand? Nador likes them pristine, and if she’s bruised he’ll want a discount.”
Cruz turned and strolled away. He’d decided her fate in less time than some people took to order a latte. And he was serious. He truly intended to sell her. Like...like...stuff.
“I am a human being. A person! My name is Hannah. You can’t do this.” She jerked and yanked on the cuffs, the metal biting into her skin.
One of the closest men snatched her arms, holding her still. He wasn’t Cruz, but she still tried to knee him, kick his shin—something. She couldn’t understand their words, but she didn’t have to. She already hated them. These people were the worst kind imaginable.
They released her from the inspection stand. It took two to wrestle her into a freight elevator and down one floor to a concrete basement. She could only stare in stunned silence at the chain link cages. They were cages. With people in them. Women. Girls. A few younger boys. People, corralled like livestock.
The two men pushed her into the smallest cell. Bunk-beds lined the wall four high. Those already inside the chain link cringed back, shrinking from the men. The same man she’d head-butted released her wrists from the cuffs. He spat words at her she didn’t understand and stalked out, locking the gate behind him.
Fear and rage twined inside of her. She watched the two men flip the lights off, plunging the room into mostly darkness, save for a single security light, and leave.
Dylan.
It’d been Dylan all along.
They’d picked her before she even arrived.
Like the girls Mason told her about who disappeared from the airport.
That could have been her.
At least she’d had a fighting chance.
And Mason was still out there.
“Hannah?”
She turned toward the voice.
“Christine? Oh my God, you’re here.” Hannah barely knew the woman and yet she still launched herself at her, hugging her tight.
“They got you, too?” Christine clutched Hannah to her.
“Where’s Natalie?”
“Here.”
Hannah turned toward the other woman.
They were still in the same beach dresses she’d met them in.
Had they ever made it off the beach?
“What—what’s going on?” Natalie swiped tears away.
“I...” The truth was on the tip of Hannah’s tongue. It was right there. But would the girls gain anything from knowing their intended fates? Mason was out there. He’d save them. She had to believe it. “I don’t know. Ransom, maybe?”
“I’m so scared,” Natalie whispered.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Christine caught her friend in a hug.
“We’re going to get out of here,” Hannah said with a certainty built on nothing but hope.
Please let Mason storm the doors, please...
Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Zain.” Mason snatched the door open without further proof it was his cousin.
“Bang.” Zain fired his bionic fingers at Mason, the prosthetic lighting up like some strange toy. “You’re dead.”
“This isn’t a fucking game.” Mason stalked across the room back to the windows that looked out on the side street to Cruz’s building.
Zain, Travis, and Luke entered the former office suite and stashed their gear along the walls. For them, this was business as usual, even though it was Hannah they were going to rescue. For Mason, this was a new circle of hell.
“I’ve seen eight men go in, three come out, only two the same. They were in the van Hannah was brought in on.” Mason was ready to chew nails. Do something besides sit here and stare at a building.
“Mason.” Zain stood at Mason’s side, not even bothering to look at the building.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
“What?” Mason pivoted. The soldier in him knew every man in this room outranked him in the field. He was bottom of the totem pole.
“When’d you sleep last?”
“Last night.” With Hannah tucked against his side, her head on his chest.
“Eat? Drink? Piss?”
“What the fuck?”
“You’ve got to take care of you before you can take care of her. You look like shit.”
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
“Mason.” Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “Hate to see you here.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Do we know anything else?” Travis completed their group, arms crossed over his chest.
“Were you able to make contact with Abraham again?” Zain asked.
“No, left a message for him though. Doubt he’ll answer.” Mason wanted to gut that bastard, too, on principle.
“You’re hunting someone he has a grudge against. Don’t doubt that man’s ability to stay pissed about something. I’m willing to bet he’s listened to the message.” Zain knelt next to the large black case he’d hauled in. “I was able to dig up a disgruntled buyer. He was more than willing to talk about how the purchases go down.”
Purchases.
Mason wanted to vomit.
They were people. Not clothes or jewelry or even livestock.
People.
“Guy said the next auction is in two days.” Zain stood, tablet in hand. “He has a ticke
t he’s willing to sell us if we can’t get in there before then. It’ll get at least one, maybe two of us past the door.”
“I’ll go,” Mason said.
Zain’s gaze flicked to Mason for a second. “No. Cruz knows what you look like. If he doesn’t, someone in there will. No, Idris and Travis would be the better choices.”
Luke leveled a glare at Zain. The guys had taken to calling Luke Idris Elba, after his resemblance to the famous actor. The name was still new. He’d get over it eventually, or do something incredibly stupid. Stupid names always stuck better.
“What am I supposed to do? Sit on my thumbs and spin?” The only thing that’d stopped Mason from busting in there, guns blazing, was that it increased the chances of getting Hannah hurt.
“They’ll need an exit lined up. One for all the girls, not just Hannah.” Zain’s stare would normally deter Mason from arguing on the job. Now, Mason just wanted to deck him.
“Mason. Come here.” Travis thumbed toward the door.
Mason held Zain’s stare a moment longer. Zain didn’t get it. He couldn’t understand what it was like to have his heart ripped out like this. Zain never dated—he might as well be asexual the way he obsessed about his job. If Hannah got hurt—or worse—Mason would add Zain’s name to the list of people to pay.
“Mason.” Travis snapped.
“Coming.” Mason turned and stalked out of the room, following Travis into the hallway.
The entire floor was deserted. From the looks of it, there was some remodeling going on to make the space into offices. Coupled with it being the weekend, and they had the run of the place for now.
“What?” Mason crossed his arms over his chest.
“You need to ease up.” Travis turned to face Mason.
“Ease up?”
“Are you hearing yourself?”
“Hannah. Is. In. There.” Mason pointed in the general direction of the other building.
“I know. I get it. Do you remember how unhinged I was when Bliss was kidnapped? Same thing. I didn’t lose my cool. I couldn’t. Because if I did, there’d be no getting her back. You’ve lost your cool, man. I get it. But you need to check yourself before you get her hurt.”
Mason clenched his fists.
“You wanna punch me? Will that fix things?” Travis spread his arms. “Go on.”
Mason could visualize decking Travis right in the face. The impact would jar his shoulder, he’d feel it in his knuckles.
And then he’d have to explain to Bliss, Travis’ wife, why he’d thought it was a good idea.
Yeah, he wasn’t going to punch Travis.
Mason leaned against the wall and stared at the floor, his mind still circling the problem at hand.
Hannah was a prisoner.
Travis mirrored his pose and kept talking.
“I’ve been around long enough to know that Hannah’s got a good head on her shoulders. Given the chance, she’ll prep those girls and have them ready when the time comes for us to get them out of there. She’s smart.”
“Zain doesn’t get how bad this is.” Mason scrubbed a hand across his face.
“He does, he’s just not personally invested like you are. Zain is the right guy to run this. He knows how important getting Hannah back is. We all do. But he’s also impartial. He can make the judgment calls you might not be able to because you’re not thinking with your brain.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mason frowned.
Travis stared at him.
“We’re friends,” Mason said.
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself, okay.” Travis shrugged. “You know what you remind me of? Me. At Christmas.”
Shit.
Mason’s stomach knotted up.
“Was I off my rocker at Christmas?” Travis asked.
“That’s an understatement.” Mason hasn’t known Travis well before the gig that wound up with them chasing a serial killer across two states. The experience had forged a friendship between them, though, and there really was no one better to understand the situation with Hannah.
“I imagine I acted a lot like you are now.” Travis tilted his chin down.
“Fuck.” If Travis was right, then Mason was the liability. He hadn’t thought of it like that. It also wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he couldn’t argue with the logic. Not after bringing Christmas back into mind, how Travis had gone completely rogue and dragged them all with him. To save a woman he’d just met, and fallen head over heels for. And here Mason knew Hannah. They had history.
Fuck, he was probably completely unhinged and didn’t even realize it.
“We good?” Mason asked.
“We’re good. Let’s go see what else Zain knows, then I want you to take a cat nap. You’re no good to us exhausted.”
They re-entered the room to find that Zain and Luke had made short work of the equipment set up. It was amazing what could be packed if done well. Then again, Mason didn’t want to know how Zain managed to get tactical assault gear through customs in the first place. Probably not on a commercial flight.
“What’s the plan?” Mason asked.
Zain paused setting up something technical looking, complete with a flat screen display. Some sort of new communications device with x-ray vision, hopefully.
“We know the next auction is in two days. I’m guessing there will be a lot of activity in and out of the building. Caterers. Cleaning staff. Set-up crew. We probably aren’t going to be able to sneak in with them, so our best bet will be to hit hard in the early morning of the auction, or pose as a buyer. Like I said, Luke and Travis could get an invitation and scout the place, while you and I enter the building and provide exit support.”
“Is it just me, or does this set-up sound like that movie Taken?”
“This stuff has been happening long before that movie.” Zain blew out a breath. “This is—I’m going to call them lots. There are two kinds of sales happening. Bulk lots, and specialty lots. I think Hannah is a specialty. Those sell last.”
“This is fucked up.” Luke shook his head. “Selling people ain’t right.”
“Which is why we’re going to stop this,” Mason said. “Here’s one thought...If Hannah is worth the trouble they went through to get her, they won’t hurt her. She’ll be safe until we can get her.”
“That’s a thought.” Luke nodded.
Zain nodded “I’ve put in a call to a CIA contact, but there’s no telling if they’ll take action. We need to operate like we’re it.”
“I’m going to try to contact Abraham again.” Mason pulled out his burner phone. “He could be useful for the exit strategy, unless you have other plans?”
“No, that would be good. Getting out and clear of the building is still not a firm plan.”
Hang in there, Hannah.
12.
Hannah’s arms ached. Sweat burned her eyes. The muscles in her back screamed for her to stop. But she wouldn’t quit. She couldn’t. It was dark enough now she could barely make out the glint of the crude blade.
“Are you sure that’s going to work?” Christine asked from her perch on the bottom bunk.
“No clue.” Hannah lifted the piece of a metal chair leg she’d broken off and examined the edge. She pressed her thumb against it.
This time there was a slight bite to the metal.
It was working.
She spat on the concrete serving as her whetting stone and put her weight into refining the edge.
“It’s working,” She whispered.
“What did you say?” Natalie leaned over the edge.
“She said it’s working,” Christine repeated.
“What are you doing?”
Hannah glanced up and across the space between their prisons at another woman. Her English was heavily accented, but Hannah could understand her.
“I’m making a blade.” She lifted it to show the other woman. “You can make them from the chair legs. Break them off and focus on one end.”
If Hannah had time, she would sharpen the other end so she had more of a weapon to work with. Or maybe attach it to something longer. If she could break off one of the supports from the bunk beds she could make a spear.
“You crazy,” the other woman said.
“Hannah, you don’t really think you can use that, do you?” Christine leaned her head forward, through the rungs leading up to the next bunk.
“Maybe? I’m sure as hell not going to sit here and wait to be rescued.” After Hannah had a bit of a freak out she’d set to making a plan, giving herself something to do.
“You think we could be rescued?” There was no missing the hopeful tone in Christine’s voice.
“I have to think we will. Mason is still out there.” She had to believe. It was all she had left.
“The guy you were with?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah, he’s here still.” He wouldn’t leave me here.
But did Mason know she was gone? Could he find out where she was?
“Did you say someone was out there?” Another American girl stepped into what light Hannah had to work with.
“Yes. A friend of mine.” Hannah twisted to look up at the other girl. Like the others she was thin, pretty, a girl a man would like on his arm. Those details made Hannah sick to her stomach.
“Could he save us?”
“I hope so, but if not, I don’t plan on letting these guys do whatever to me.” If Mason couldn’t save her, she needed to be ready to save herself.
“No one will save us,” the woman from the other holding cell said.
“You don’t know that.” Hannah knew she shouldn’t fight with the woman. It didn’t gain her anything. But she needed to believe Mason was out there. Looking for her. Trying to get her home.
“I do. My cousin? Cruz took her. No one saved her. No one will save me, or you.” The woman prowled the edge of the cell, back and forth, like some kind of predator.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your cousin, but I can’t think like that.” Hannah turned her attention back to the blade. She couldn’t accept that was her fate. If she did, then Cruz had already won, and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“Can—can I make one of those?” The thin, almost frail-looking girl clutched her arms around herself. She wouldn’t be able to sharpen the blade, but maybe what she needed was hope.
Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) Page 16