GUARDIANS: Mission To Rescue Innocence (Beauty 0f Life Book 7)

by Laura Acton

  Blaze arched one brow in response before picking up two packs containing gear for the guys going in unarmed.

  “Yeah, stupid question,” he chided himself. Those two kidnapped Dom’s daughters and planned to profit from selling them for the purpose of sexual exploitation. No way in hell would they be alive by the time the sun rose.

  Now convinced of the outcome, Winds was unsure of how Dom would accomplish the feat without leaving a trace. To be honest, part of him did not want to know the answer. Winds allowed those thoughts to drift into the background as he refocused on the here and now.

  Wearing black clothing, black gloves, black Kevlar vests, and black balaclava masks which only allowed their eyes to be visible, Blaze and Winds slipped unseen into the alley behind the club near the door for the kitchen. Blaze pulled out a burner phone and dialed Ripsaw, wishing those going inside wore comms, but understanding they couldn’t take the chance of them being found.

  “In position. Set to move in,” Blaze said giving the command to Ripsaw to proceed to the Cherry Club. He then tossed the phone into a dumpster. Over the comms, he spoke to the others, “Everyone set. Be ready to execute.”

  Blaze hoped like hell supporting Blondie’s plan was the right decision. He would never forgive himself if Blondie ended up dead. Although dicey, Blondie sold him on the fact it was a calculated risk he wanted to take.

  The kid had balls. Quite likely Blondie would be staring down the barrel of a gun and would need nerves of steel to pull off the ruse. Blaze smiled as he thought back to the first time he saw Blondie and Brody striding towards him to report for duty. All Blondie needed to do was channel that cockiness.

  Outside Cherry Club – 2350 Hours

  Ripsaw tapped Blondie’s shoulder alerting him they arrived. Blondie opened his eyes and removed the earbuds, as Ripsaw asked, “Ready, Maks?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Dan flashed him a WOW smile as he wrapped the earphones around Beauty then stuffed the music player into his pants pocket. The support of the unit and Brody’s music selection put him in the correct frame of mind. I can do this. Those girls are going home safely, and we will rescue the other children in this godforsaken place too.

  After the SUV halted in front of the club, Mason exited using a cloth to unlatch his door. He went directly to Blondie’s door and opened it with the handkerchief, so he left no fingerprints on the handles to prevent tracing their identities. Mike helped Anastasia out, doing the same thing.

  As Blondie exited, under his breath Mason said in Gaelic, “Tha am plana seo de leatsa nas fheàrr nach fhaigh thu mharbhadh bràthair beag.”

  Dan chuckled translating Scottish Gaelic. This plan of yours better not get you killed little brother. He glanced at Mason and whispered, “You worry too much big brother. Quit scowling, or your face will stay that way, Gorgeous.”

  Studying Blondie, Mason wondered if the kid understood his words or inferred the meaning. Few people spoke the Gaelic. Mason only learned the language because of his father’s keen interest in their Scottish heritage.

  Ripsaw tossed the keys to the valet, removed his driving gloves, and tucked them into his pocket. Covertly he slipped the burner phone into the valet’s pocket as the man passed by him. Prepared to do his part in this charade, he positioned himself on Blondie’s left, while Mason stood on his right. Mike and Anastasia came up behind him and waited with Blondie at the entrance.

  Dan assumed Maks’ demeanor as he pulled out his invitation and waved it at the doorman. Speaking Russian, Dan said, “Maksim Gennadiyevich Ivanov and friends. Savelievich is expecting me.” Dan strode into the club with confidence. Showtime!

  Into the Den of Iniquity

  27

  May 29

  Cherry Club – Reception Parlor – 0000 Hours

  Ushered inside and to a secluded, empty reception room, the curtain went up as the group launched into their roles. Moving around the well-appointed room with an arrogant swagger, Dan stopped near a table and stared at the armed guard who appeared at the door. He noted the name, Fyodor Artemovich Popov on the identification tag hanging from the red shirt pocket.

  Following their plan, to initiate his egotism, Dan addressed the guard in Russian by his family name only, thereby showing the utmost contempt for someone beneath his station. “Popov, if this is an example of what the club offers, I think I’ll be leaving.”

  Fyodor glared but spoke cordially, fearing what Panin would do to him if he offended a guest. “Panin Savelievich will greet you personally soon.”

  Dan nodded and sat in a chair to wait. Maintaining Russian, he spoke to Mike. “Are you sure that I can find the type of action I’m looking for here?”

  Mike nodded. “Yes, Maks.”

  While Dan and Mike engaged in idle chatter implying the age of girls which Maks was interested in, Ripsaw and Mason roamed around like any bodyguard would as they cased the room. Mason spotted the camera and covertly identified the location to the others. As they suspected, Panin would observe them for a time before he made an appearance.

  Anastasia playacted being upset about being ignored. She tried to lean on Maks, but he brushed her off and glared at her. Staying in character, Dan used a snide tone, “Sit down. I do not know why I brought you.”

  Pouring on the pout and pitching her voice in an annoying whine, Anastasia pawed at Dan again. “Do not ignore me. I want to go someplace we can dance.”

  “Leave me alone, old hag!”

  Offended, Anastasia’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you call me old!”

  Acidly, Dan insulted her. “Your only value is to smile for the paparazzi. You are not my type. Too old and you open your legs to anyone with a pulse. Now shut up, bitch!”

  “You bastard!” Anastasia pulled back her arm and slapped Dan’s face so hard her hand stung. She winced at the pain she caused both of them, but it was necessary to establish the scene.

  Dan’s head whipped to the side with the connection. Damn, she hits hard. He rolled his jaw as his hand came up to his stinging cheek. He stood and grabbed her wrists. His voice harsh, Dan said, “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

  After shoving Anastasia roughly into the chair, Dan turned to Mason. Switching to French, he ordered, “Keep the bitch down.”

  Stepping forward with a glowering, intimidating expression, Mason caged Anastasia in her chair.

  Worried crystal blue eyes, half feigned, half real based on the giant protective man’s scowl, darted between Mason and Dan. Her voice honeyed sweet, Anastasia continued with Russian, “Maks, I’m sorry.”

  Dan stalked away and then turned back to glare at her before he ground out in English, “She will pay dearly for slapping me. I should snap her scrawny neck for her insult.”

  Standing, Mike strode to Dan. Time to remind Panin he spoke English too, that is if Savelievich remembered him at all. “Maks, what you said was horrible. You deserved the hit. There is no need to kill her. Cut her loose.”

  Dan glared at Mike. “I cannot do that. She knows too much and might blab to the press. Can you see the headlines now? Maks the pervert. Maks is a pedophile. No, I must find a way to be rid of the crone.”

  Pretending not to understand English, Anastasia gazed up at Dan and asked what he said using Russian. Dan ignored her, so she shifted her gaze to Mason, repeating her query in French, “Qu’est-ce que vous avez dit?”

  Mason shrugged as if he didn’t understand.

  With pleading eyes, Anastasia sought out Mike and played up her pout as she asked again what Maksim said.

  Mike went to Anastasia, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and caressed her face. Speaking the language of love, he said, “Do not worry. He’s only angry you slapped him. I will not let him harm you. You are too beautiful to die. If he does not want you, well, there is always me. I’ll treat you right.”

  Dan rounded on Mike, maintaining English he crossly snapped, “Now I recall the reason we parted ways long ago. Always wanting to play the white knight, but you never po
ssessed the balls to follow through.”

  Eyes narrowing dangerously, Mike’s sky-blue orbs challenged Dan. “Maks, stop while I still consider you a friend.”

  Responding in kind, Dan lifted his chin and eyed Mike guardedly. “What’s she to you? She’s nothing but eye candy after a free ride. All females over fourteen are tainted.”

  The two squared off in the middle of the room, staring at one another as tension increased. Ripsaw edged closer, ready to intercede as Maks’ guard would do. Mason remained with Anastasia as ordered. Several minutes later the door opened and interrupted their glaring contest.

  Panin strode into the room with his three most trusted guards, Grigori, Vadim, and Fyodor. Having spied on his guest he was aware he spoke English, and decided to lead with the language. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Dan faced Panin. He took in the man’s unpleasant appearance. Overweight, oily body clothed in an expensive suit, beady eyes set too far apart, crooked, tobacco-stained teeth, and excessive oil slicking back thinning hair.

  Assuming an arrogant posture, Dan eyed Panin. The fact he used English instead of Russian gave him a moment of pause. Using the same language to employ a haughty tone, he said, “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Don’t let it happen again. I’m told you deal in merchandise to suit my desires.”

  That cocky little shit. This is my place. I’m in charge and if I want to make him wait I will. Panin seethed silently, before saying, “I prefer to conduct business in English, keeps things private. Who in your party speaks English?”

  Mike noted the twitch in Savelievich’s eye. Dan’s attitude hit the mark and pissed off Panin. “Only Maks and I speak English. The lady speaks Russian and French, and Maks’ guards speak French only.”

  Giving Mike an oily grin, Panin said, “You aged well. Fifteen years is a long time to be underground. Mind telling me where you kept yourself, Michael? Or do you still prefer Magic Mike?”

  It took a lot to not react to the old moniker. “Mike will do, and where I have been, is my business. My buddy Maks came because he is seeking a specific type of entertainment. I figured you might be able to help him out.”

  As Panin shifted his gaze back to the blond man, he indicated to Grigori to hand the French magazine. “You are Maksim Gennadiyevich Ivanov?”

  With an air of indifference, Dan gave a curt nod. “I prefer Maks.”

  Panin’s beady, hooded eyes studied the man and challenged. “Perhaps. This magazine says you are in Canada and they revoked your passport.”

  Dan had never been so glad that Blaze updated them on this part after interrogating Makar and Kazimir. He adopted a laconic smile. “Money solves most problems. Wave enough under the nose of an underpaid pissant with a crappy job and anything is possible.” Becoming direct, Dan said, “Do you have something which will interest me or am I wasting my time?”

  Panin became irritated at Maks’ arrogance. “I may. Perhaps you would like to follow me and view my wares?” After Dan nodded, Panin led them out.

  Cherry Club – Hallway

  They all walked down a broad hallway flanked by Panin’s armed men. At the end of the hall were two doors protected by men with assault rifles.

  “Your bodyguards and friends do not go into the main club. I have a separate room for them to wait in,” Panin stated.

  Dan shook his head and stared down his nose at the shorter man. “No deal. My buddy Mike and my security men come with me.”

  A slightly confused expression crossed Panin’s face. “And the woman?”

  “I don’t care. She is too old and …” He stopped and rubbed his cheek which still held a pink-tinged imprint of Anastasia’s fingers. A wicked smile crossed Dan’s face. “Bring her too. She can be part of the deal. A down payment if you will. She should fetch a pretty penny, wouldn’t you say?”

  Panin leered at Anastasia raking his eyes up and down, stopping on her breasts outlined in the snug fitting dress.

  Anastasia shrank into Mike’s arms and did an excellent job of acting scared.

  Mike declared, “Maks, you wouldn’t!”

  Dan shrugged. “Why not? Solves my problem. What you say, Panin? I can call you Panin, right?”

  Grinning Panin grabbed the beautiful woman’s wrist and pulled her to him. Tonight might prove more lucrative than he imagined.

  Anastasia’s eyes rounded as she attempted to pull out of Panin’s grasp. Using Russian, she asked, “What did you say? What is going on?”

  Fondling her breast, Panin answered her in Russian, “You are mine now.”

  Turning to Maks, his yellowed teeth showed as his grin widened and he returned to using English. “One bodyguard. The other will stay in a special waiting area and may enjoy in food, drink, and the ladies I provide free of charge as entertainment.”

  Dan glanced at Ripsaw and spoke French to him, maintaining the ruse, “Stay here. Sample as you please. I’ll be a while.”

  Ripsaw grinned and rubbed his hands together giving the impression he would be more than happy to indulge. Panin gave orders to his sentries, and one escorted Ripsaw through one door. Panin’s personal guard, Grigori, opened the other door and led the way.

  Cherry Club – Waiting Room

  A uniformed guard led Ripsaw into the gaudily decorated room. Bright cherry red curtains partly secluded ten alcoves along three walls. Scantily clad women lay on scattered, gold and green chaise lounge chairs either engaging with a man or beckoning to others. Off to one side, a table filled with various food and beverages sported huge bowls of fresh cherries.

  Beside the door Ripsaw entered, four more doors were on two other walls. Ripsaw realized this room was not part of the drawings Makar and Kazimir supplied. He wandered around appearing as if assessing the offerings, when in fact he scanned for the cameras attempting to locate a blind spot and sizing up the women searching for one he might be able to manipulate.

  He would rather find a quiet way to the kitchens than to kill the watchmen, but if it came down to it, he would have no difficulty managing the four who guarded the portals. Ripsaw noted a shapely, timid woman with light brown hair staring at him but continued his assessment. She is the one to approach.

  Natia expected to be on the fifth floor entertaining one of the top-tier clients tonight, but instead, Madam sent her here for the bodyguard’s pleasure. Usually, Panin only allowed one guard to accompany each buyer into the auction area. The rest he plied with women and alcohol to keep them docile in case Panin decided to eliminate their boss. It’s how Panin maintained control and acquired a fair number of his guards after killing their bosses.

  She did not like working this room. The men tended to be gigantic and rough. Natia found herself drawn to the newcomer. Short for a bodyguard, but well built, his muscular arms amply revealed despite his suit jacket. With his short, brown hair and dark brown eyes, he was not bad looking either. Natia observed the wary man checking out the room. Most of the guards did that. It was their job after all.

  Natia approached and ran her hand up and down his arm as she used her eyes and body language to ask if he was interested.

  Her actions wholly unmistakable to Ripsaw, he gave her an inviting smile. She was the woman he planned to approach because she gave the impression of being different than the others. He asked if she spoke French.

  She shook her head, but then leaned in close to his body as her hand went to his lower anatomy and she whispered something in his ear.

  Ripsaw took in a deep breath and backed up not understanding the words but the intent clear. He smiled and pulled Natia to the location he had determined to be the blind spot. He moved her into the corner, so it appeared he was taking advantage of the offerings.

  He whispered, “Do you speak English?”

  “Nyet,” Natia replied not comprehending.

  He spoke two more languages, so he tried Kazakh first and received a negative reply. With a tiny bit of hope, since this part of Russia bordered Georgia, he used his last foreign language a
sking if she spoke Georgian.

  Leaning in Natia attempted to kiss him but stopped. Her eyes widened. She had not heard her native tongue in many years. She learned Russian when she ended up here. Her eyes teared up. She missed home still. She nodded vigorously with a smile as she responded in Georgian, “Yes.”

  What damned good luck. Ripsaw grinned and continuing to speak Georgian, he said, “I am hungry. Can you take me to the kitchen so I can eat something different?”

  Natia glanced at the food-ladened table. “No, you must stay here. There are many different items over there. I’m sure you will find something to your liking.”

  Adopting a sad frown Ripsaw gazed into her striking green eyes. “I cannot consume those items. My boss forbids me from eating foods I have not witnessed being prepared. He is a paranoid man and worries about drugged food. If we are incapacitated, we can’t protect him.”

  Natia thought about the grilled cheese sandwiches and lemonade which Panin brought to those little girls tonight. He always drugged the captives before auctioning them. She flicked her gaze to the food table and wondered if Savelievich did the same thing here too. Probably.

  This bodyguard’s boss was smart to be cautious because Panin loved to use all sorts of drugs. Easy to make things appear as suicide or overdoses, and quieter deaths meant less focus from the law. This man’s sad brown eyes pulled at her heartstrings. “I will ask for permission from Madam to escort you there. Wait here, and I’ll be back shortly.”

  Brightening up, Ripsaw kissed her gently on the cheek. “Thank you.” He scrutinized her as she sauntered away and slipped out a door. If the answer came back no, he would choose a door and hope he located the kitchen without encountering many guards or setting off alarms. He leaned on the wall and glanced around at the decadence as he waited.