by Laura Acton
Panin grinned as he looked on. His Arabic client always waited until only one bidder remained. Prince Fakhir Al Sattar was the youngest son of five and therefore a minor royal with little prospect of ever ruling, but he had access to the vast fortune and spent liberally to indulge his sexual appetite. He also delighted in swooping in at the last second, to place the winning bid. None of his clients came close to matching Al Sattar’s resources … until Maks.
Rubbing his hands, Panin became excited. Never had an auction gone quite this high. I’m set to make a fortune. Hell, this sale alone will double my bottom line. Cutting out the Yurievich brothers was a smart move. Giving up twenty-five percent of this amount would be stupid.
Dan input another bid and prayed the account Dom provided them contained this much money. As the auction timer counted down, he glanced at Mason, giving him a hand signal to be ready and indicated which two watchmen he would target. If he failed to win, they would need to take immediate action to secure the room and retrieve the girls.
Catching Blondie’s signal, Mason calculated which of the remaining four bodyguards he needed to take out first. Nonchalantly, he moved position, so he was closer to the two larger guards. Mason would deal with them first then assist Blondie with the rest, though he hoped Ripsaw was near.
Thirsty, Fyodor eyed the Visinata on the bar. Surreptitiously he reached out and snagged the glass. With Panin’s and the other’s backs to him, he downed the contents in two gulps and refilled the cordial. Fyodor grinned, enjoying the lingering sour cherry flavor and the fact Savelievich hadn’t caught him.
Intently focusing on the bidding timer, Dan swallowed excessive saliva and rubbed his temple as a headache grew. A genuine grin formed as he said, “Three, two, one …. Ha! They’re mine.”
Panin stepped forward. “Not quite yet. There is the matter of the money transfer. If that does not go through, the second bidder wins, and you’ll have seen your last free day on this earth because you will be sold at the next auction.” As Panin sat at the table, Grigori unlocked a cabinet and brought a laptop to him. “Account number please.”
Dan rattled off the memorized number. He positioned himself, ready to react if necessary. Shouting in a language neither Dan nor Mason understood, accompanied by crashing sounds, drew their attention to one of the walls.
A dangerous game I play, though well worth it. Panin smiled. “Appears his highness isn’t happy. You might’ve created an enemy. Prince Fakhir hates to lose. He becomes quite angry.”
Mason glanced at Blondie. The raging sounds continued, and Mason worried the competition might present them another obstacle in leaving.
Cherry Club – Kitchen
Winds guarded the double doors as the last of the kids rushed out to the waiting vans with Galahad and Lioness. Luckily, they moved through the passageway with no problems. They stopped in Panin’s office so Winds could check the progress of the transfer. He found the program worked perfect and funded the account Blondie would use. Once Blondie paid, and the money deposited in Panin’s account, the code would initiate again and distribute the assets to the charities.
The trips across the hallway between the office and the back stairs had not been as uneventful as the hidden passage. They experienced a couple of close calls. Mike took out one guard, slicing his neck when the man grabbed one of the young boys scurrying across. Mike dragged the sentry into the stairwell, but the boy’s scream at witnessing the guard die brought another one.
Lioness surprised Winds with her speed and skill, showing her prowess as she plunged her knife into the second watchman’s chest, piercing his heart before he alerted any more guards. Fortunately, they encountered no more issues as they herded the group of frightened kids into the stairway and down to the kitchen.
Mike and Anastasia shuttled the children out in groups of five to the vans. Blaze went with the first group and planned to remain outside on guard until the final group arrived before returning inside to Winds. Anastasia and Mike would stay with Patch and Brody providing security while waiting for the rest of the unit to exfil with Dom’s daughters.
Winds turned as Blaze reentered the building and closed the back door. He reported, “I was listening to channel two. The auction finished. Blondie won. They are beginning the financial transactions. Hope the kid didn’t spend more than is in the account ‘cause Panin just told him he sells those who overbid their means. Plus, there is some guy named Al Sattar who Savelievich indicated is not happy he lost.”
Blaze nodded. “We wait here and if they run into problems leaving we’ll assist.”
From his position in the dumbwaiter, Ripsaw checked in, “All quiet. Took a peek out, I’m in an excellent position for a covert exit … a drape covers the entrance. Panin must not want to advertise its existence to his buyers.”
“Roger. Continue monitoring Panin’s channel for activity.” Blaze blew out a breath. So far the plan worked well … in the home stretch now. Staying loose and ready for action, Blaze rolled his shoulders and hoped his three men on the fifth floor and Dom’s children made it out safe.
Deception, Treachery, and Death
34
May 29
Cherry Club – Fifth Floor – Auction Room
Dan wiped the sweat off his brow again. Why am I sweating? He coughed and his raw throat from puking burned. Gripping his hands together, he attempted to stop the prickling, tingling of his fingers. Pursing his oddly numb lips, he swallowed excess salvia again. Maintaining his nonchalant façade of Maks as he waited for the funds to transfer became increasingly difficult as his head throbbed. Something isn’t right.
Panin said, “Not sure what is up with the computer system today. It is taking longer than normal. Oh, and by the way, I added in the additional sum for your insult and the broken glassware.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Dan answered refocusing on Panin. “Are you in the habit of telling buyers each other’s names? I thought you said you kept things confidential. Who is this Prince Fakhir?”
“Oh right. Um, well I guess his identity will remain confidential. So will yours. I’ll never reveal you were here,” Panin chuckled. This cocky SOB insulted me and will pay. Fakhir is furious at the moment, but he will appreciate my efforts in the end. Fakhir enjoys a varied sexual appetite, and those girls in my display room will suit him fine.
Glancing at the Visinata he poured for Maks, Panin wondered if he should refrain from giving it to him. Fakhir also had an appetite for young men, and he might be interested in buying Maks. He grinned thinking his ability to lie convincingly, and his sleight of hand was useful in his line of work.
Panin had no qualms lying through his teeth, and he did it so well. He did it with the Yurievich brothers and then again with Maks in the vetting room. The arrogant playboy truly believed money would fix his insulting behavior. He may have flashed money to leave Canada, but it wouldn’t help him one bit now.
Insults could not go unpunished. The heathen would die, he appeared too unstable to control. Panin decided to have Grigori handle him … a single bullet to the brain would drop the massive highlander in his tracks. These two would learn you didn’t insult Panin Savelievich Volkov. His wolf fangs would sink deeply into these unsuspecting sheep.
Fyodor gripped his stomach as pain lanced his gut. Sweating profusely, he eyed the blond man Panin talked to. The man threw up earlier and now Fyodor fought not to puke. Did I catch whatever he had? His heart beat faster, and he became light-headed. Fyodor leaned against the bar as the room spun in front of him. Panin’s gonna kill me for getting sick … he can’t stand sick people … guards are a dime a dozen to him.
Straightening, he wobbled, and a line of drool dribbled from Fyodor’s mouth. He didn’t feel the wetness until the slobber ran down his jaw. Lifting a hand, he wiped off the saliva using his sleeve, hoping no one noticed. Glancing down, his eyes widened at the red-tinged drivel on his cuff, but then he recalled the Visinata … red from the cherries is all.
Mason
’s vigilant gaze spied a swaying guard near the minibar at the back. The man’s pasty, sweaty complexion indicated an illness. He appears dead on his feet. Another positive, one less guard to worry about. Continuing his scanning, he spotted Blondie close his eyes and rub his temple. God, I hope he isn’t getting a migraine. As Blondie recovered, he suffered a terrible migraine once, and Winds told them about his mother’s experience … her trigger was stress. Wonder if stress triggers Blondie’s headaches?
He saw the sweat beading on the kid’s forehead, and the pallor of his skin matched the bodyguard’s. Mason’s eyes flicked between both but stayed on the sentry when the man keeled over, and his mouth worked like a fish out of water.
Everyone’s attention was captured as Fyodor fell to the ground. Panin stood and yelled at the good-for-nothing to get up. Grigori rushed over, knelt, and checked Fyodor for a pulse, and reported he was dead.
Dan’s mouth salivated as nausea and pain in his gut slammed him. He put a hand on his stomach as he stared at the lifeless guard. Unsure why, but his eyes moved to the bar searching for the sour cherry vodka. He noted the position of the glass was different from where Panin left it and the contents less. Something was not what it seemed to be.
Swiping at a trickle from his nose, Dan glanced at his hand. Blood? His mind latched onto the Visinata. Goddammit, Panin drugged me. He glared at Savelievich and demanded, “What the hell did you put in my drink?”
Whipping his eyes to Blondie, Mason caught sight of blood smeared across his upper lip. His eyes returned to the dead man and noted blood at the corner of his mouth. Shit! Whatever Blondie was drugged with…. Unable to do anything for him at the moment, Mason concentrated his attention on the guards.
Panin focused on the laptop, ignoring Maks and grinning broadly when the transfer completed and told Grigori to bring Prince Fakhir to this room.
Hesitating, Grigori gripped the Ruger at his waist as he glimpsed the scowl on Maks’ bodyguard. He might need to protect Panin.
“Why are you bringing the prince in here?” Dan asked as he fought rising nausea and lightheadedness.
An oily smile came to Panin’s face. So absorbed in the money now in his account, he failed to take note of Grigori’s lack of follow-through of his order as he gloated, “To tell him he won by default of course. I will receive double for these girls. I got your money but will tell him your transfer failed. He will be so pleased. You are his type. So, I will offer to sell you to him or perhaps if he is still angry, make you a gift.”
Mason raged, “Like hell, you will!” as he lunged at Panin. He ordered in Gaelic, “Blondie, grab the girls.”
Shocked the heathen attacked him a second time today and spoke English, Panin managed to evade him as Grigori appeared out of nowhere, stepping toward the behemoth and drawing his gun.
Mason wrestled with the muscular guard, struggling to turn the gun away from him. He snapped Grigori’s wrist, and the handgun discharged striking the guard’s foot. When Grigori screamed, Mason ripped the Ruger out of his hand and fired at point blank range between Grigori’s eyes.
As Mason made his move, Dan reacted and dispatched a stunned guard near him by snapping his neck. He procured the dead guard’s GSh-18 pistol and in rapid succession killed the three remaining guards with well-placed headshots as they started to draw their weapons. He left Panin alive to be used as cover for their escape since Mason moved in on the bastard. Dan picked up a wooden chair and smashed the one-way mirror. Bile rose, and he swallowed, fighting the urge to gag.
Mason glanced at Blondie. They needed to know what Panin used to drug him. He grabbed Panin, yanked the chain holding the key from his thick neck, and tossed it to Blondie. “We’ll need this.”
Dan caught Panin’s key and shoved it into his pocket as he strode to the bed. Aware the dripping blood increased, Dan fought the pounding in his head and nausea as he powered through his pain. I must save the girls!
Once he reached them, he leaned over to scoop up Anna-Marie. Droplets of crimson liquid, the same shade of red as the cherries decorating the dress collars and hair ribbons, splashed on the white fabric. Awkwardly gathering Nicolette in his arms too, Dan staggered back to the room.
Mason gripped Panin by the throat. “What did you put in his drink?”
Panin laughed. “You won’t leave here alive. My guards will mow you down the moment you step foot outside this room.”
“What did you drug him with? Tell me now, or you’ll regret it the rest of your sorry life,” Mason snarled as murderous intent manifested in his eyes.
Dan labored to make it to the room as automatic gunfire erupted in the hallway. Hope that is Ripsaw. He laid the unconscious girls in one of the leather chairs. Endeavoring to block out the painful effects of whatever drug he ingested, but discerning his abilities were compromised, Dan spoke honestly to Mason as he checked how many rounds the pistol contained. “I can’t carry them. I need your help.” Damn only five shots.
“Got your six, brother,” Mason said
After reinserting the clip and wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve, Dan leveled the gun at Panin’s head. Ice-cold blue orbs narrowed on Savelievich. “Tell me what you put in that cherry shit, and I let you live. I don’t miss.”
Panin paled as he glanced at the three dead guards with perfect headshots. Maks had been so damned fast none of them had a chance to lift their weapons. He flicked his eyes to Fyodor, obvious the drunkard imbibed the poison he intended for Maks. His penchant for sneaking alcohol caused his death.
At this point, Panin decided it didn’t matter if he told, Maks would be dead or incapacitated soon from poison or his guards would kill both as they exited. Stalling to give his men time to converge, Panin said, “Not entirely sure. Renqing, my Chinese potion maker, uses many things in his concoctions.”
“What things?” Mason demanded as he squeezed harder wanting to choke the life out of the sick bastard.
Eyes bulging and fearing for his life at the hands of the heathen, Panin provided a smidgeon of information in a manner they wouldn’t understand. “Um, might be diquat and tetrodotoxin … among other things I don’t recall.”
The mirror from an adjoining room shattered, and in short order eight angry men blocked their exit via the display room. To Mason’s and Dan’s dismay it was not the unit, but on the plus side, none of them held guns.
Positioning himself in front of the girls in a protective manner, Dan turned the pistol on the most likely target. “You must be Prince Fakhir,” he said emphasizing the wrong syllables making the name sound like fucker instead of faa-here.
Sneering, Fakhir said, “Ignorant westerners. As a member of the royal family, rulers of Oshar, you may address me as Sheik Fakhir bin Umar bin Farid Al Sattar. The only prince in the family is my eldest brother, Crown Prince Sheik Ifran bin Umar bin Farid Al Sattar.”
Panin yelled, “Kill them now!”
“Who do you wish to kill whom?” Fakhir asked in a low, angry tone.
“Kill the cocky SOB and his heathen. You outnumber them.”
Fakhir studied the handsome man aiming at him. He was almost a dead ringer for Maks. His gaze shifted back to Panin. “Who is the blond?”
“The one who outbid you, Maks Gennadiyevich,” Panin said, “By default, you win since his transfer failed. Once you pay the amount of your last bid, the merchandise is yours. I planned to give him to you as a gift for your troubles, but they attacked,” Panin lied.
Perspiration dripping down, Dan mopped his brow to keep the moisture out of his eyes. His stomach continued clenching in pain, and he fought not to throw up or show any weakness as he trained the weapon on Fakhir. I refuse to fail. We are too close to rescuing them. I will protect these girls … with my life.
The short bursts of gunfire raging in the hallway did not seem to be letting up. The room swam, making things surreal to Dan as he realized none of Panin’s numerous guards entered the room. Where are all his armed guards? Wait … the guys must have reached t
he fifth floor and are keeping them occupied.
Still infuriated, Fakhir scrutinized the young blond man but covered his emotion by smiling. He returned his piercing obsidian eyes to Panin and adjusted the cufflinks on his shirt as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Anyone who knew Al Sattar well would be aware his dead calm was a sign of rage burning inside. In a quiet voice, Fakhir stated. “You have been deceived, Panin. This is not Maksim Gennadiyevich.”
“Yes, he is!” Panin shouted.
Mason shifted his gaze to the sheik. What the hell? How would he know Blondie’s not the real Maks?
Fakhir shook his head slowly. “Panin, you aren’t the sharpest scimitar in the armory. Your greed blinds you, and you act stupidly which normally works in my favor.”
At the insult, Panin’s eyes narrowed. Finding it hard to accept the prince spoke condescendingly to him, his hackles rose. “That is Maks!”
Fingers and toes tingling strangely, Dan hoped the unit reached them before he faltered. He listened, not interrupting as talking was preferable to shooting until they arrived since he only had a few rounds left in the clip.
Dropping his hands, Fakhir took a moment to leer at the fake Maks. Then he enlightened Panin. “I know for a fact he is not Maksim Gennadiyevich Ivanov. Maks is … how shall I say … a very close and personal friend. I came in his stead to acquire the virgins for him because he is stuck in Canada. You have been fooled. Though, I can understand why … he is a near duplicate of Maks. Although, he is much younger and prettier than my friend, and more to my liking. I will accept your gift.”
Just great! How much worse can this situation get? Dan allowed his cockiness come out in full force. “Panin lied to you. My transfer went through. He was gonna charge you for the girls too. We have no beef with you. Stay here while we leave with the children, and you will live. Otherwise, you die here and now. I’m fast, and I never miss a target.”
A flame of fury crossed Fakhir’s face as he glared at Savelievich. “You thought to deceive me? Stupid and dangerous. Your greed has no bounds, which will be your downfall. No one crosses me and lives.”
