Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (33 page)

She also prayed that Abby didn’t lose her life. Morgan himself had sounded frazzled when he’d told them about Abby’s meeting with Devlin. Granted, Abby could take care of herself, but it was difficult for Isabel not to worry.

When they walked inside, Blanco met them in the front parlor, wearing a black pin-striped suit with a bloodred carnation pinned to his left breast pocket. “Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” he said happily. “It is good to see you again.”

Trevor nodded. “I trust the transfer went smoothly last night?”

Blanco’s dark eyes twinkled. “You wouldn’t be here this evening if it hadn’t.”

The man seemed to be in high spirits. A good sign. Maybe Devlin had actually kept his word and left the compound without saying anything to Blanco.

With a chuckle, Trevor leaned over to nuzzle Isabel’s neck. “Good. My wife and I are very excited to be in attendance.”

“Then if you’ll go with Gerard,” Blanco said, pointing to a solemn guard holding an assault rifle, “he will take you to your quarters. You’ll find a catalog of photographs in your room. As I said before, if you wish for a closer look, Gerard will be happy to take care of it for you.”

“Thank you, Señor Blanco,” Isabel said graciously. She stepped toward him and brushed a seductive kiss on his tanned, wrinkled cheek. “You are a wonderful host.”

Blanco smiled. “Your kind words are greatly appreciated. And I hope we will be able to do business again in the future.”

Hopefully not
.

“I hope so as well,” she purred.

Trevor took her hand again, and the pair followed Gerard as he easily navigated the many corridors leading to the west wing of the house. They reached a wide, elegant hallway with a dozen doors on each side, and the guard led them down the white marble floor to a door at the end of the hall. He unclipped a key ring from his belt, unlocked the door, then gestured for them to step inside. “The door will be locked,” he said in English. “If you need something, knock.”

They entered a room that was as elegant as the hallway leading to it. An enormous bed graced the center of the room, which was furnished with Victorianesque pieces and had thick velvet drapes in dark burgundy hanging at the window. A metal serving cart sat at the other end of the room, featuring a crisp white cloth and a sterling silver ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne.

Isabel rolled her eyes. “How welcoming.”

Trevor unfastened the top button of his suit jacket and strode across the room toward the plush leather sofa with a rectangular-shaped glass coffee table in front of it. On the table was a black leather portfolio case.

Isabel felt uneasy as she watched Trevor pick up the heavy book. “Is that what I think it is?”

He opened the cover, then sucked in his breath. “Yeah.” He quickly snapped the portfolio closed. “Don’t look at it. You won’t like what you see.”

Despite his warning, she was curious by nature. Her satin flats clicked against the polished hardwood floor as she crossed the room. Trevor handed the portfolio to her without a word. She opened it to a random page. Her expression didn’t even change.

“Sit down,” she said quietly. “We need to look through it.”

“I don’t really feel like throwing up.”

“Neither do I, but we have no choice.” She gave an imperceptible nod at the ceiling. “We’re not being recorded, but they’re still watching. We need to do what we’re supposed to.”

“You’re right.” His face remained pleasant, but she could hear the reluctance in his deep voice.

They sat side by side on the small couch and opened the portfolio together. “You’re very interested,” she reminded him.

“And you’re very excited.”

Together, they flipped through the pages, pausing on certain photos. Trevor dragged his finger along particular aspects he found “pleasing.” Isabel clapped her hands together at one point.

All the while choking down the urge to vomit. The
photographs were indecent and revolting and made her wish Blanco were standing in front of her so she could strangle the rotten bastard. Children in lewd poses meant only for adults. Naked brown skin. Private, unspeakable body parts that no one should ever have to see.

“This is her,” she said suddenly, stopping Trevor from going to the next page.

He examined the photo. “You sure?”

“She has Inez’s eyes,” Isabel said, her voice soft. “That’s Lucia.”

Lucia Alvaro had earned three pages in Blanco’s dirty book. Shot from the front, the back, the side. Close-ups that made Isabel’s eyes water. Oh God, that poor sweet girl. At the top of the page were the words
Item #8.

Staying in character, she gave Trevor a sexy smile and touched his well-defined biceps over his sleeve. “I want to tear that man’s balls off and feed them to Inez’s goat.”

Trevor responded by leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “You’ll have to beat me to it.”

They resumed the show, pretending to inspect each image in great detail, Trevor pursing his lips every few minutes.

Isabel discreetly glanced at her watch. “Seven eighteen,” she murmured.

He pointed to Lucia’s terrified brown eyes, which practically popped out of the photo, screaming at them for help. “Shall we request a closer look?”

Isabel nodded. “Please.”

Getting up, Trevor went over to the door and rapped on the smooth cream-painted wood. The door swung open to reveal Gerard’s questioning eyes. “Yes?”

“We would like a closer look at item number eight,” Trevor announced.

“Right away, señor.”

Devlin was late.

Abby had been killing time for nearly four hours, and she was growing rather impatient.

The Colombian Andes loomed in the distance, rugged brown peaks making jagged slashes in the horizon. A weird scent hung in the air, not unpleasant but oily and earthy, which made sense since this town was apparently known for its emerald mines.

She didn’t know much about emeralds, save that this area produced some of the finest stones in the world. She’d read once that treasure hunters often poached from the mines along the Muzo valley, scavenging the riverbeds and even tunneling into the hillside to search for stones. As a result, the mines were well guarded, but she wasn’t expecting any angry men with guns to show up and accuse her of attempted emerald theft. Devlin had said this particular mine was abandoned.

She’d ditched the motorcycle about half a mile back after the ground went from dirt to rough gray stone, and then she’d climbed a tree and sat there for hours like a damn monkey. Now her ass was sore and Devlin still hadn’t showed his face. Granted, it was only 7:02, but what had happened to punctuality? The only saving grace was that Kane hadn’t shown up either. She’d been afraid that D would tell him where she’d gone. Afraid that Kane would abandon the mission and foolishly come after her.

With a sigh, she shimmied down the tree and landed on her feet with a thump. She could hear the faint trickling
of water in the distance. The river must be close by, most likely on the other side of the rocky hill.

For the hundredth time, Abby studied the deserted area. A shadowy opening gaped in the rocks about fifty yards away. She walked toward it, noticing as she got closer that it was the entrance to the mine. Splintered boards crisscrossed the large opening, and a crude wooden sign told her in Spanish that trespassing was forbidden. It also spoke of the hazardous instability of the tunnel ahead.

The fine hairs on her neck stood up suddenly.
Finally.

Devlin. She could feel him watching her. Probably from the rock-strewn slope off to the right. She wasn’t worried about being taken out with a sniper rifle. She knew from experience that Devlin preferred a hands-on kill. He liked looking into his prey’s eyes as he sucked the life out of it.

“Stop being dramatic and show yourself!” she shouted. Her voice echoed against the rocks, bouncing back at her ominously.

His familiar chuckle rang in the air. Footsteps sounded from the slope she’d been looking at and then Devlin appeared, deftly navigating the rough landscape as he made his way toward her.

His one eye swept over her, his thin lips curling in a little smile. “You’re looking well. I see Morgan and his men have nursed you back to health.”

“I wish I could say the same about you.” She shrugged. “That eye patch is a touch
Pirates of the Caribbean
, don’t you think?”

His smile faded. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten who put it there.”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can regain your pathetic pride?”

He didn’t take the bait, but she hadn’t expected him to. He was too smart to lash out irrationally. He simply moved closer, until they were about six feet apart.

“So how’s it going to be?” she said with a sigh. “Ten paces and then draw?”

“Nothing so dramatic.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Throw your weapons to me.”

“Who said I’m armed?”

He let out a genuine laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll reciprocate. I think we’ll both enjoy this more if it’s all about brute strength. No distracting bullets.”

She shrugged again. “Sounds good to me.”

Without taking her eyes off him, she removed the Glock tucked into the waistband of her jeans and waved it around before setting it on the ground. Devlin stayed true to his word, revealing his own gun and dropping it. He kicked it away, sending it skittering to the edge of the mine’s entrance. Abby did the same.

“Now the backup,” he said, wagging his finger.

Bending down, she pulled the small derringer from her ankle holster and kicked it away.

Devlin did the same.

“And the knives,” he said in a tone that told her he was truly enjoying himself.

Suppressing a groan, Abby lifted up each pant leg and unsheathed the knives D had given her. Chuckling, Devlin got rid of his own knife. A moment later, they faced each other, completely unarmed.

He crooked a finger at her. “Come on, luv, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Lucia Alvaro wore a filmy white dress that ended at her lower thighs, revealing the pair of tanned, knobby knees
below. Her brown hair was long and straight and hung down her back like a shiny curtain. Isabel’s heart squeezed when Gerard led Lucia into the room. The young girl’s eyes were awash with panic, as if she thought Isabel and Trevor might jump on her at any moment.

“Knock when you are finished,” Gerard said in a bored voice. He cast a firm look in their direction. “Remember, Señor Blanco says no touch.”

After he left the room, Isabel gestured for the girl to come closer. Lucia’s gaze darted around like that of a frightened animal.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Isabel said softly.

The girl stared at her blankly, prompting Isabel to switch to Spanish. She repeated the words, and some of the panic in Lucia’s eyes dimmed. “Do you promise?” the girl whispered.

“I promise.” Isabel held out her hand. “Now come closer. Stand in front of us. When I ask you to, turn around.” She swallowed. “And when I ask you to take off your dress, don’t be scared. Remember, we won’t hurt you.”

Lucia’s legs were trembling as she walked toward the sofa. “What is going to happen to me?”

“Nothing, if we have anything to say about it. Do you know why you’re here, Lucia?”

The girl blinked. “You know my name?”

“Yes. And we also know your mother.”

A sheen of tears clung to Lucia’s thick black eyelashes. “Mamá? Is she here?”

“She’s not here. But hopefully you will see her very soon.”

“She can’t just stand here,” Trevor spoke up, pasting a leer on his face for the camera’s sake.

“Turn around, Lucia,” Isabel said. “Very slowly.”

Lucia did as she was asked, while Isabel continued quietly. “Some very bad men want to hurt you and the other girls you were locked up with. Trevor and I”—she gestured to him in case Lucia couldn’t figure it out—“we want to help you. But you’re going to have to help us too. Slowly take off the dress, sweetheart.”

Lucia’s cheeks turned a bright shade of crimson, but she followed Isabel’s instruction. Isabel clasped her hands tightly in her lap, resisting the impulse to stand up and wrap her arms around the girl. Protect her from this disgusting situation she’d unwillingly found herself in.

The girl stood naked before them, and even Trevor seemed on the verge of tears. Isabel could tell from the way he kept swallowing, working hard to maintain his composure.

“Can you describe the room where you’re being held, Lucia?”

“It’s where the servants drink coffee and talk before work. Or after work.” Lucia seemed unbelievably nervous. And she looked unbelievably frail with her flesh exposed and the white dress pooled around her ankles.

The break room. Abby had been right. “Is there a clock in the room? Turn around again.”

Lucia did a slow turn, then said, “Y-yes. There is a clock.”

“Good.” Isabel swallowed the acid coating her throat. “Now get on your hands and knees.”

Next to her, Trevor’s face grew pale. “Hurry this up,” he said smoothly. “I’m two seconds from walking out that door and murdering every last person in this house.”

“Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Isabel asked.

Lucia nodded earnestly.

“Then at exactly eight twenty, you’ll need to do something. Something very, very dangerous.”

“I—I will do anything.”

“There’s a gun in the far left cupboard in the kitchen, the one in the break room you mentioned. Do you know how to use a gun?”

Lucia shook her head.

“That’s okay. There’s nothing to it. There’s going to be a little button under the handle. That’s the safety. You’ll need to switch it off before you can use the gun. Do you know where the storage room is?”

The girl wrinkled her dark brows. “The room with the containers? Boxes?”

Isabel nodded. “Where they keep the Christmas lights. Do you know where it is and how to get there from the break room?”

“Yes.”

“Good. What you need to do is gather the other girls and take them to that room, Lucia.”

“H-how?”

“You’ll need to get the guard outside your door to come into the break room.” Isabel paused. “And then you have to shoot him.”

The girl paled.