Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (27 page)

“Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” he said in surprisingly smooth English. His voice held only a trace of an accent. “I thank you for driving all this way to come visit with me.” He shook hands with Trevor, kissed Isabel on both cheeks, then gestured to the large glass table behind them. “Please, sit.”

Surprisingly chivalrous, Blanco pulled out Isabel’s chair for her before rounding the table to take his own seat. “I apologize for requesting that your weapon be confiscated,” he added, looking over at Trevor with a regretful smile. “I can’t be too careful. I hope you understand.”

“Perfectly,” Trevor answered.

“Rest assured, your property will be returned to you on your way out.”

Smoothing out the hem of her dress, Isabel settled in her chair and reached for the starched napkin on the table. Blanco’s cook had laid out a feast for them; the table was adorned with various dishes along with several bottles of wine. The aromas of grilled fish, rice, and a variety of vegetables filled her nostrils.

If she’d known lunch would be this elaborate she would’ve gone easy on breakfast.

Blanco gestured to the plate in front of her. “Eat. I know you Brazilian women are very particular about your food, but I am sure you’ll find Pedro’s cooking to your liking.”

“I’m sure I will.”

She hesitated only slightly before lifting the fork to
her lips. The chances of the food being poisoned were slim, but she still felt apprehensive taking that first bite. She noticed Blanco watching her mouth, his dark eyes flickering with arousal as she wrapped her lips around the fork. His gaze dropped to her neck, then lower, to her breasts.

“You have exquisite taste in women, Mr. Martin,” Blanco said, smiling broadly at Trevor.

“Very exquisite,” Trevor agreed, his gaze appreciative as he looked at her.

The two men chatted about business as lunch progressed. Abby had warned Isabel that Blanco wasn’t fond of women joining in during business discussions, so she wisely kept quiet, eating the delicious food, which so far hadn’t made her drop dead. Trevor gave Blanco the same details he’d offered Bahar, though this time he spoke in more detail about his gentlemen’s lounge, which seemed to capture Blanco’s interest.

“I have been looking to invest in such an establishment,” Blanco admitted. “I’ve been told it’s a very profitable market.”

“It is,” Trevor confirmed. “As long as one pays the authorities to look the other way, it can be very lucrative.”

Blanco nodded fervently. “I would like to discuss this more, Mr. Martin. At a later time perhaps. As you know, I’m quite busy with other matters at the moment. Which brings us to the purpose of your visit.”

Isabel lifted her head. Finally. She pushed her plate away and joined the discussion. As she and Trevor had planned, she pasted a look of uncertainty on her face. “I’m afraid my husband and I are having some second thoughts,” she confessed.

Blanco’s dark eyes met hers. “Is that so, señora?”

“We have discussed it,” she went on, “and we are concerned about some of the details.”

Blanco turned to Trevor. “What kind of details?”

Trevor laced his hands together. “Travel issues, for one. I suspect there might be individuals looking for your merchandise—stolen goods are often hunted, no? My wife and I are avid travelers, and if we were to purchase one of your items, we are worried it might affect our lifestyle.”

“I can assure you, traveling will not be a problem. Passports and other identification papers have already been issued.” Blanco smiled graciously. “Adoption papers can also be arranged if you’d prefer to pass the item off as your child. I feel that would appeal to you, as a couple, and make it far easier to explain the sudden presence of the item in your life, particularly since you two enjoy the limelight.” He shrugged. “It is easier for the other buyers. Most of them are wealthy single men who prefer to stay in rather than socialize. But you and your wife… I believe adoption is a simple solution.”

Isabel swallowed her horror. Was this man for real? She casually placed her hands in her lap—it was the only way to stop herself from strangling him.

Trevor pretended to be appeased by Blanco’s speech. “That’s reassuring. We were also worried about the… the
quality
of the goods, if you will.”

Isabel wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I don’t like dirty things,” she said petulantly. “And strong odors irritate my sensitive nose.”

Blanco gave her an indulgent smile. “Not to worry, señora. I’ve arranged for the goods to be taken into our servants’ quarters before the sale. They will be in pristine condition.”

She feigned relief. “Oh, that is wonderful. That was my main concern, I must admit.”

“What about security?” Trevor said sharply. “A contact of mine informed me you had a little…
mishap
here about a week ago.”

Blanco’s face darkened. “Yes,” he admitted. “That is true. But rest assured, my security is stronger than ever. My men will monitor the entire property, and I have a very close relationship with some very important government officials. They have assured me there will be no interference on their part.”

“Good.” Trevor leaned back in his chair. “I’d like to discuss payment now, if it suits you. Your solicitor was very vague about the actual cost of attendance.”

Isabel didn’t miss the brief smirk that graced Blanco’s mouth. Oh yeah, he was totally going to bleed them dry here. She wouldn’t be surprised if he demanded triple the regular fee from them.

“Because you expressed your interest at such short notice, the price will be higher, I’m afraid.”

Isabel stifled a laugh.

“How much higher?” Trevor asked.

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

Trevor didn’t even blink. “I believe that’s fair.”

Blanco looked momentarily surprised, but he recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Very well, then. I will have Bahar contact you with the details for the wire transfer. The funds will need to be transferred tonight. The sale is in two days, after all, and I’d like the attendance fee to be received well before then.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

The conversation came to a halt as a wiry man with a long scar slicing one cheek appeared on the terrace.

William Devlin.

Isabel didn’t need the black eye patch for confirmation. Abby had given a detailed description of Devlin, emphasizing the cold, emotionless face. As usual, Abby was right. The man in front of them looked completely incapable of feeling. There was something dark and evil emanating from his lean, muscular frame.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Trevor angle and bend his head slightly in a subtle attempt to shield himself from Devlin.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Devlin said in a British accent. “I wanted to inform you I spoke to Cortez. He will be attending as planned.”

Blanco picked up his wineglass, taking his sweet-ass time in answering. Panic jolted through her. The longer Blanco chugged on that wine, the better the chance that Devlin would pay closer attention to Blanco’s guests. Swallowing, Isabel reached for the tall water glass by her plate and scooped out a wet ice cube with her manicured fingers.

“My, it’s hot today,” she exclaimed, sending a sexy giggle in Blanco’s direction. Next to her, Trevor was chewing vigorously, as if the meal in front of him were the most interesting thing on the planet. Giggling again, Isabel brought the ice cube to her collarbone and moved it across her skin. A chill tingled her flesh.

Across the table, Blanco’s eyes widened in appreciation. His gaze followed the movements of her hands, and her peripheral vision caught Devlin glancing her way too. His expression revealed a hint of disdain, though. Looking annoyed, he flicked his eyes to his boss, who dismissed him with the wave of his hand.

“If Cortez changes his mind again, please reassure
him. Now go check on the merchandise. I’ll send for you later.”

Annoyance hardened Devlin’s jaw, but he simply nodded. Without even glancing in Trevor and Isabel’s direction, he strode off.

Isabel slowly released the breath she’d been holding, continuing to drag the irritating ice cube over her cleavage. Damn, now the top of her dress was wet.

“I must apologize for Devlin,” Blanco said pleasantly. “He’s not particularly sociable.” He pushed back his chair. “And I must also apologize for the brief nature of this meeting. My guests usually enjoy staying the night, but I’m afraid I must bid you good-bye now.”

“Not a problem,” Trevor said, helping Isabel to her feet. “We should get going anyway. I’ll need to contact my banker to arrange the money.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and then the guard that let them in walked them back to the car. After stopping yet again at the security booth and enduring another search—what, did Blanco think they’d steal the silverware?—they were in the car and on their way back to the city.

“That was close,” Isabel breathed. “I don’t know why, but I really thought Devlin was going to recognize you.”

“For a moment there, so did I,” he admitted. A rare smile lifted his mouth. “Nice move with the ice. Blanco’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.”

She offered a smile of her own. “That was the plan.” The smile faded as she remembered the reason they’d met with Blanco in the first place. “Well, he seemed interested in taking our money, so now what? How do we save those girls?”

“We’re seeing the others tomorrow morning,” Trevor
reminded her. “We’ll figure everything out then and decide what our next move will be.”

Devlin barely noticed Blanco’s guests as he left the patio. He didn’t give a damn about the perverts attending this auction. His mind was a million miles away, mulling over ways he could lure Abby Sinclair to him. He’d had his fun torturing her about her childhood, but now it was time for a very different kind of fun.

Now he wanted his hands around her throat.

The guard standing outside the prison door blanched when he saw Devlin’s face. The man had been there the night Abby Sinclair assaulted him, Devlin remembered.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he snapped.

The guard stared down at the floor. “Nothing. Sorry if I offended you, Señor Devlin.”

Devlin brushed past the man without another word. He entered the prison and stalked toward the cell at the far end of the block. The metal trapdoor in the corner of the cell squeaked as he thrust it open. Bloody Blanco and his bloody sex auction. Devlin cursed his employer as he climbed down the steel ladder leading to the underground tunnel that had been installed on the property long before Blanco purchased it from a retired arms dealer.

The tunnel was damp and musty, reeking of mold and stale urine. The overhead lights flickered relentlessly as Devlin charged toward the bunker. The sentry at the door—Corbacho was his name—had a big beak of a nose, beady black eyes, and an AK-47 tucked under his armpit.

“Blanco wants an update on the merchandise,” Devlin snapped irritably, switching to Spanish. Most of Blanco’s
guards were dumb as shit, and spoke garbled broken English that grated on his nerves. Corbacho was one of them.

Corbacho’s gaze rested briefly on the patch covering Devlin’s eye before dropping down to his feet. “The merchandise has been fed, clothed, and photographed.”

“No problems with any of the items?”

Corbacho shifted uneasily. “One has been refusing to eat, but I fixed the problem. Two are very insolent. I believe they might prove to be troublesome when they’re being transported.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to control them.” Devlin glanced at the AK-47. “Though I must ask, is that really necessary? I would think a small pistol would do the job just as well. An assault rifle feels like overkill for a bunch of weak little girls, no?”

Corbacho looked insulted. “That is what the woman said, but I would disagree with both of you. This is a fine choice of weapon.”

Devlin blinked. “What did you say?”

“I said, it is a fine—”

“No,” he cut in impatiently. “You said something about a woman.”

The guard looked confused. “Yes. Señorita Erica.”

Devlin’s pulse sped up. None of the guards save those who worked in the prison were aware of “Erica’s” escape. Blanco—no doubt to save his silly pride—had ordered total secrecy on the matter, so it didn’t surprise Devlin to hear Corbacho speak of her in such a respectful tone. The idiot probably thought Erica was still the boss’s mistress.

But the guard’s revelation… now that was a surprise. “Blanco brought her down here?” he asked sharply.

“Yes. He seemed very eager to let her see the merchandise.”

“And how did she react?” Devlin demanded.

“Very excited. She asked a lot of questions.” Corbacho smirked. “I was told she was a very sensual woman.”

Devlin wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was working over the implications of what the guard had told him. Abby Sinclair had been taken down to this bunker. She’d seen the scared little girls huddled in that dirty, cold room.

“Excited,” he muttered to himself.

Oh no. His Abby had been enraged. She had looked into those huge, terrified eyes. She had looked into a mirror.

Turning swiftly on his heel, Devlin glanced over his shoulder and said, “Contact me if any problems arise.” And then he marched down the tunnel, a wide smile stretching across his face.

Oh, Abby, you wanted to save them, didn’t you?

Stupid little fool.

“Wow,” Isabel said when she and Trevor strode into the safe house the next morning. As Trevor drifted off to find the men, Isabel studied Abby intently. “You look so much better.”

Abby felt herself blushing under Isabel’s astute gaze. How much did Isabel see? The fading bruises and how breathing was less of a struggle? Or did she see more? Abby remembered the way Kane’s strong hands had roamed her body yesterday, branding her with his intoxicating touch. Could Isabel tell that things had changed?

Like she always did when she felt cornered, Abby went on the offensive. “Enough to be part of the rescue?” she demanded. Not that it was Isabel’s seal of approval she needed. No, it would be Morgan and Kane’s call, but Isabel’s recommendation would go a long way toward convincing them.