Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  He peered through his binoculars, following Luke’s progress in the line of cars headed for Cruz’s warehouse.

  There were a lot more people attending the auction than Mason expected. It was a fucking black tie event. Complete with a carpet rolled out from the building to the street. It was hard for Mason to wrap his head around. People selling people.

  “The car has reached the perimeter,” Mason said. “Luke is getting out now.”

  “How thorough are the pat downs now?” Zain asked.

  “They’re in a rush.”

  Mason and the others had watched the first few attendees be practically violated by the perimeter guards. Now each person received a light frisking before getting waved into the building.

  “They must really want to start on time,” Zain said.

  “Probably.”

  They could hear a dull drone of activity from Luke’s end as he waited his turn to be searched. Mason held his breath, his eyes locked on Luke, ready for things to go sideways any second now. They’d opted to send him into the building with a couple surprises, because they didn’t know how this was going to go down.

  “This is going to work.” Zain’s refrain was getting on Mason’s nerves.

  If they’d gone in when Mason wanted them to, Hannah would have been with the other women. They could have saved her days ago. Now...he couldn’t contemplate not getting her back. There was no room for failure.

  “He’s in.” Mason breathed a sigh of relief.

  Luke, his firearm, and a few other fun toys—were past the guards.

  “Fuck,” Zain muttered.

  “What was that?” Mason peered down at the SUV.

  Zain didn’t answer.

  “What’s going on?” Travis asked.

  “I don’t know.” Mason shifted the gun so it hung from his shoulder and leaned over the railing. “Zain?”

  “Hold on, I need to throw the phone up to you.” The SUV door opened and Zain’s face stared up at him, too pale in the darkness.

  The phone?

  What the hell?

  “This isn’t the time, Zain.” Mason ground his teeth together. It had to be Stevens.

  “You’re going to want to take this. Catch.”

  Mason set the binoculars down and leaned over the railing. Stunts like this were how people got picked off. His dark clothing wasn’t the best covert gear.

  Zain hauled back and threw the cell phone as if it were a football. Mason snagged the device out of the air and turned it to see the screen.

  Who the fuck would be worth taking a call from right now?

  The number was unlisted, which meant it wouldn’t be Stevens. Zain had all their contacts, even when someone didn’t want Zain to have it.

  Mason un-muted the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Who is this?” he asked.

  “I hear you’re getting into trouble.”

  Male, slight drawl. Mason couldn’t place it.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Mason asked again, his patience worn through.

  “I’m hurt you don’t remember me after that time I bailed your ass out of the line of fire.”

  “Jer?”

  Mason had a cracked ribs and bruises memory of getting the shit knocked out of him during a joint operation. His injuries could have been worse if not for Lieutenant Jerry Cayne.

  “You do remember. I’m touched.” Jerry had a way of smiling even when he talked. He was that guy. The one that never got down or ticked off.

  “It’s nice hearing from you, but what the fuck?” The last time Mason had spoken or even thought about Jerry was...years ago.

  “I hear you’re in some trouble.”

  Mason glanced down at the SUV. Zain stared up at him and shrugged.

  “What are you calling about, Jerry? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

  “I hear you left the SEALs. Quite a stir over everything.”

  “Jer—”

  “I’m with the CIA now. An analyst. It’s a cushy desk job. Unless you’re me. I got an assignment tossed my way this morning based on a tip. A tip you called in.”

  “Shit.” Why hadn’t Jerry said so? Mason wished the CIA worked on their timetable, but facts were, it would take too long for Jerry or anyone not there now to lend a hand. “Look, man, I’d love to get you up to speed, but it’s too late for government involvement.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Mason stared into the night sky.

  “Jer?”

  “Let me get you up to speed and we can compare notes...”

  Rogelio drifted among the guests. Most he recognized on sight. Others took a moment. A few were completely new to him, which was usually a good sign. Tonight...tonight he didn’t like it. The new faces made him uneasy after the morning’s raid. Somehow they’d kept it under wraps and no one knew. Yet. But that was going to change. This might be the last auction for a while, so it was a pity they still had to admit the newbies.

  Cruz had hammered home that a buyer needed an average of five auctions before they made a purchase. A long wait between auctions would mean hitting the reset button for those who attended, but hadn’t bought. Sometimes it was because the right product wasn’t available, other times they needed to warm up to the idea. While it had become common practice to sell lots of women to establishments such as brothels, it was less accepted among the rich. But these people were used to paying a price for what they wanted. It was really a matter of changing their minds to view the lots as things.

  A tall, athletic man with dark skin paused in the entry.

  There he was.

  Rogelio pulled out his phone and redialed the most recent number. It rang several times before Cruz answered.

  “Nador has arrived,” Rogelio said.

  “Good. Everyone has been informed of the change tonight?”

  “Yes, sir. So far everyone is buying that tonight is a focus on the more desirable merchandise. And several were very ecstatic that they could leave after purchasing.” Typically they held the girls until after the auction as a way to increase sales. A buyer might not realize there was something for sale they wanted more than what they initially purchased. Tonight though...tonight Cruz wanted to turn a quick profit so the location could be packed up and moved by morning. Nothing would be pulled off the auction block for not hitting the reserve.

  “Good. We will start soon.” Cruz ended the call.

  Rogelio shoved the phone back in his pocket and found an out of the way spot to wait and watch.

  Images of tonight’s products scrolled by on a projector.

  Sale days were always the most exhausting. Today especially. Not only had they needed to dress up all the girls for the photographs, but they’d had to make emergency repairs. Thankfully the area was practically owned by Cruz so no one outside their team knew what had transpired that morning. But people talked. Already some had mentioned that the room looked different, but they couldn’t place why. A few curtains hanging over the worst damage to the brick didn’t hide much.

  How long until their buyers heard about the lost merchandise? How long until they lost confidence in Cruz and went somewhere else? Cruz wasn’t the only person peddling human flesh, he just dressed it up better than others.

  Rogelio longed for the days when he’d gone where he was told and only worried about getting his job done. Promotions were a trap. A horrible trap that dished out a lot more crap than they were worth.

  Maybe it was time to split. Take a girl as his next bonus and get out of here. Find a tropical spot to set up home and do something else. Guys in their line of work had a short life expectancy and he wasn’t ready for that kind of an end.

  Case in point, the five men who’d died this morning that Rogelio now needed to replace. He’d known two of them since they were teens. The other three had been with Cruz for years. They were good, loyal men.

  Hold on... Wait a minute...

  Rogelio rocked up onto the balls of his feet to se
e out over the crowd.

  Who was that guy?

  Rogelio pushed off the wall and strolled in an arc toward his target.

  New buyers were jittery and easy to pick out due to their nervous habits. This guy...something was off about him.

  Rogelio snagged a drink off a passing tray and meandered closer, keeping the guy in his line of sight.

  Built, tall, black, he could be any number of their guests. The way he watched the crowd though... It was like an American cop. They had buyers from all walks of life and countries, even cops. Rogelio wasn’t going to begrudge the man his occupation, but neither would he ignore something that set off all his alarms. After the week they’d had over the blonde broad, he could do with a lot more caution.

  The lights dimmed and all attention turned toward the center dais. Curtains lined one side of the room, creating a focal point. This part was the same old song and dance number. The new guy though, he turned in a circle, looking over the room before facing the stage like everyone else.

  Rogelio edged even closer, until only three people separated them.

  Cruz entered through a part in the curtains and took the microphone. He issued a welcome to everyone, first in Spanish then English, and gave the sales pitch spin to the abbreviated auction night. They hadn’t even put out chairs for the buyers, and the finger foods were half what they would be normally. Rogelio knew when his boss was pinching pennies and this was it. Cruz hadn’t said it, but business was going to change.

  To be on the safe side, Rogelio texted his security team for more information on the new buyer. Tickets were capped and a new buyer could only get admittance through someone who’d attended before. This ensured that someone was always responsible for someone else. So if this guy was attending on a purchased ticket, well, Rogelio could take the matter up with the seller and buyer. So far it’d worked to keep their buying pool orderly.

  The front of house radioed the ticket to the ledger manager, matching the ticket number, while Rogelio cooled his heels, watching the back of the man’s head.

  Finally, the records were rattled off.

  Except... The name assigned to the man’s ticket did not match up.

  Rogelio knew the ticket holder’s name. He remembered the Swiss man and the fuss he’d kicked up.

  He had a bad feeling about this guy. One he wasn’t going to ignore.

  The first auction of the night started, cutting off any chance Rogelio had of taking the guy aside quietly. Cruz would split him from groin to throat if he disturbed the flow of money. So Rogelio watched and waited.

  The man threw up a few bids early on, but didn’t have the same kind of laser interest on the redhead the others did.

  What game was he playing at?

  The first lot was led off stage and the second one took the floor. Again, the man bid exactly twice during the onset, and then stopped.

  Rogelio pulled out his phone and pulled up the pictures of lots one and two for the evening.

  A redhead and a black woman.

  Tastes such as these did not run so extreme. There was nothing to mark these two lots as similar. The body types were different. The women’s proportions were dissimilar. It was all wrong.

  He texted the rest of the security staff, putting them on notice. Whoever this guy was, he would not disrupt the bidding, nor would he get away with whatever game he was playing at. They wouldn’t grab the guy during the auction, but after, they were going to have a chat.

  Rogelio kept his attention tuned to the black man. He stuck to exactly the same behavior through six more lots, but when the seventh came out there was a slight change in the man’s posture.

  The damn blonde virgin. Of course it would be her.

  The bidding started fast and hot, just like Cruz anticipated it would. Call anything a virgin and men practically frothed at the mouth to put their dick in it. Rogelio didn’t get it, but whatever. It wasn’t his money Cruz was after.

  One by one, the bidders stopped putting their hands up as the price ballooned out of their range. Three men, Nador, the black man, and an old white guy, had a three-way competition going.

  Rogelio shot off a text to one of the guys assisting the auction crew, putting them on notice about the black man. There was no point in selling to someone Cruz wouldn’t allow to purchase her. They each began turning a blind eye to the black man’s bids.

  Whoever he was, he was bad for business. Besides, Cruz had brought the girl here for Nador. It was just a matter of what price the man was going to pay for a blonde virgin.

  Whoever this guy was, his life was over. He just didn’t know it yet.

  The bright lights blinded Hannah. She was sweating despite the tiny sequined dress she was wearing. There were people, but she couldn’t see their faces. Words flowed over the loud speaker system so fast she couldn’t understand what they were saying—but she didn’t have to. An auctioneer’s chant was easy to identify in any language.

  She was being sold.

  Right now.

  It wasn’t real.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  This didn’t happen.

  Did it?

  The man holding onto her arm twisted, pushing her up onto the balls of her feet. She hissed as her joint protested and tugged the sparkly tunic they’d given her to wear down an inch or two.

  She squinted, trying to see into the crowd, searching for a familiar face.

  Mason had rescued most of the girls that morning. He was there. Waiting for the right time, wasn’t he? She had to believe, even if that belief might kill her if he didn’t come through.

  The gavel hit the podium so hard she jumped.

  The crowd clapped.

  That was it? She’d been...sold?

  Really?

  A human life was traded that fast?

  Her handler—because what else did she call him?—pulled her off stage. She passed Christine and Natalie in the line-up. The other woman looked as though she were in a trance, staring off into nothing. No emotion on her face.

  Hannah searched the face of every man, each person she passed, sure that one of them would be a friend. Someone who worked at Aegis. That was how these things happened, didn’t they? But not a one of them looked at her as anything but an object. No feeling. Nothing.

  Where was Mason?

  Why wasn’t he there yet?

  The handler hauled her into a small room and handcuffed her to a ring drilled into the wall. Several other girls stood waiting, just like her, one hand hiked up to the wall. The man yanked on the cuffs, ensuring they were locked tight, then left them alone in this...holding room.

  “What happens now?” she asked. The other women were familiar, but their names escaped her.

  “They come through that door and get you.” The redhead nodded at the door opposite of where Hannah had entered. She had both hands clasped around the chain linking her cuffs together, holding on tight, as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. “After that? I don’t know.”

  What if Mason wasn’t out there?

  It was a thought she didn’t want to entertain, but it was a very real danger.

  He could have been hurt. They might not be able to get close. Any number of things could postpone any sort of rescue attempt.

  So, she needed to help herself.

  Hannah twisted her arm around, even spun in place to get a bit of leverage on the ring. She gripped it tight and turned—but it didn’t budge. Not even a bit.

  “I tried that already,” the redhead said. She gestured to her wrist and the thin trail of blood trickling down her arm. “What’s going to happen to us?”

  Hannah wanted to say, Nothing. She wanted to tell the girl that Mason was out there, that he’d save them all—but could he?

  She was starting to think he couldn’t. That she’d be lucky if he was able to rescue her, meaning the others were out of luck. They’d need their own heroes. Hell, even Mason might need more time. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop looking for her. She
just had to hold out until he could find her. Figure out a way to live through the nightmare that was about to become her life.

  “Don’t lose hope. Don’t stop fighting.” It was the only wisdom Hannah could think of. “They’ll slip up. Someday. Sometime. And you can get away.”

  The far door banged open.

  A tall, dark-skinned man in a tan suit stood in the entrance. His gaze trained on her. The corners of his mouth lifted up and he barred his teeth at her in some semblance of a grin.

  Hannah swallowed and took an instinctive step back.

  It was like looking at Mason when he was angry or grouchy...except she had no assurance this man wouldn’t snap her in two. In fact...she suspected he’d like to do just that.

  One of Cruz’s goons stepped around the man, keys in hand, and unlocked the cuff holding her to the wall. She could only watch the exchange in shocked silence. He handed the handcuffs and keys to the new man, speaking without being acknowledged.

  Hannah’s heart rate kicked up and she pulled back against the cuff.

  The man grinned and yanked her forward, as if her struggling amused him.

  He said something she couldn’t understand and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him.

  She tried to twist out of his hold, but it was too tight. He turned, taking her with him by force, and began walking through the next room and out into the night. A car waited at the curb.

  “No! No, no, no!” She dragged her heels, but he practically carried her to the car.

  Hannah couldn’t get in the car. If she did, how would Mason find her?

  16.

  Hannah.

  Mason gripped the binoculars, his throat seizing up. It was his first glimpse of her since the airport. He was powerless to do anything about the big African man carrying her to the curb and a waiting car. She kicked, an elbow went flying. Even now she was fighting back, but she was tired, he could tell that from a hundred yards.

  “I see Hannah,” he managed to get out. “Black limo. Get into positions.”

  This was exactly what they’d hoped to avoid. The only good thing now was that they were minutes away from getting Hannah back. But at what price? There was still the very real danger the man would kill her, that she could be hurt during the rescue.