by Elle Kennedy
But not yet. The rescue mission was her top priority, which meant ridding the world of William Devlin would just have to wait.
“There’s that pond on the other side of the property,” Luke was saying. The chips on the table clinked as he added two more to the pile.
“Where D almost got mauled by the coyote?” Ethan hooted.
More laughter. Abby’s ears perked up. Damn bastard deserved a good coyote mauling. She hadn’t seen much of D since their disturbing conversation a few days ago, and she wasn’t complaining. It made her too uncomfortable, being around the man. Especially since they had so much in common.
Luke stood up. “I fold.” He dropped his cards on the table, faceup. Abby hid a grin when she noticed his hand—three of clubs and seven of hearts, with the five cards on the table doing nothing to help him out. She was surprised he’d stayed in for this long.
Kane groaned. “Seriously? But I’m having fun kicking your ass.”
“Tough shit. I’m going swimming.” Luke paused. “I’ll take a gun just in case the coyote shows up. Anyone want to join me?”
Ethan got up without hesitation. Sweat dripped between his pecs. “Hell, yes.”
Luke glanced over at her. “What about you, Sinclair?”
Her first instinct was to say no. Horsing around in a pond with a couple of mercenaries wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, but this damn heat really was intolerable.
“What the hell?” she said with a shrug. “I think my ribs are up to it.”
“Get changed, then.” Luke headed for the sliding door. “I’ll meet you guys at the Jeep in five.”
As Ethan trailed after Luke, Abby approached the table, where Kane still sat in front of the abandoned poker game. “Are you coming?” she asked quietly.
He slowly met her eyes. “Should I?”
“I’d like it if you did.” Her own words surprised the hell out of her.
Out of him too, apparently. “Interesting, because last night you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”
“I’m… sorry.” She took a breath. “I couldn’t talk to him while you were in the room. It would’ve been too hard.”
“Why?” His voice grew urgent. “Why are you spending time chatting with that sick fuck? What does he say to you?”
She shifted in discomfort. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” He scraped back his chair, staggering to his feet, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, pulling her toward him. “We were getting somewhere last night, Abby. Before Devlin called, we were… connecting.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“But you didn’t think that connection was important enough to keep exploring. You preferred to speak to Devlin.” Disbelief entered his face. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said again. “Can we just put this aside, for now anyway? It’s like a hundred degrees out. Let’s go swimming, try to have some fun.” She offered a self-deprecating look. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t usually do fun.”
A reluctant smile tugged on his mouth. “I noticed.” Dropping his hands from her hips, he let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll put it aside. For now. But don’t think it’s over, Abby. One way or another, you’re going to tell me what you’re doing with Devlin. You’re going to tell me everything.”
The restaurant Samir Bahar chose for their lunch meeting was considerably more tasteful than the one where they’d met Esposito. The establishment was small but quaint, with a beautiful garden in the rear that featured a cobblestone patio and secluded tables with pristine white tablecloths.
Trevor had a tough time staying in character as Isabel walked ahead of him. She wore an indecently short peach-colored dress that looked incredible with all that black hair sliding down her back. Her silver stilettos clicked against the cobblestones as she seductively made her way to Bahar’s table. Trevor was tempted to turn around and get the hell out of there, but he forced himself to stay on course.
Still, it was incredibly difficult making sure his gaze rested on Isabel’s round bottom, looking at her the way a smitten husband ought to look.
“You must be Mr. Bahar!” Isabel chirped as they reached the table.
Bahar, a thin man with chocolate brown skin, stood to greet them. He wore starched white slacks and a gray blazer, and he was incredibly short; Isabel towered over him in her stilettos, and Trevor had to angle his head down to meet the other man’s wary dark eyes.
“Ms. Dominguez, I presume?” he said in a crisp, polished accent.
“Mrs. Martin,” she corrected with a giggle. “But please, call me Paloma.”
Bahar took her hand and squeezed it lightly, then turned to examine Trevor. “And you must be Mr. Martin.”
“Julian.”
The two men shook hands. “Please, have a seat,” Bahar said, gesturing to the two empty chairs.
Trevor made sure Isabel was settled, then took the remaining chair. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”
Bahar reached for the wineglass in front of him and took a small sip. “My employer and I were quite intrigued by the request.” He set the glass down and clasped his hands. “So tell me, what is it you think we might be able to do for you?”
Right to the point. Trevor liked that. So many businessmen tended to dance around the issue. Julian Martin preferred a more direct approach.
“I was told your employer might be offering some merchandise my wife would very much like to purchase.”
“And where did you hear that, if I may ask?”
This was the tricky part. The dossier they had on Blanco contained a list of known acquaintances and business associates, but Julian Martin hadn’t actually spoken to any of them. In the end they picked a name they felt Blanco might confide in—Juan Cortez, a fellow arms dealer with a vast network that stretched across several continents. They’d researched the network, discovering that one of the men further down on Cortez’s command ladder was a frequent visitor to the Brazilian brothel Julian Martin supposedly co-owned. Julian could’ve met Abdul Farah any number of times, making him the perfect contact.
Didn’t matter that Trevor had never met the guy, or that he probably never would. Chances were, if Cortez believed one of his men had spoken out of turn about his business, whether that business was real or not, he’d have the rat taken out. And Trevor didn’t feel even an inkling of guilt. The world would be better off without the likes of Farah in it. The bastard liked young boys.
“An acquaintance by the name of Abdul Farah,” Trevor said carelessly. “Farah works for Juan Cortez, who I’m sure you’re familiar with.”
“I am.” Bahar’s tone was cautious. “And what did this Farah have to say?”
“That your employer is in possession of some very unique merchandise.”
Giggling, Isabel leaned forward. “Very young and alluring merchandise,” she added.
“The likes of which my wife and I would be very interested in procuring,” Trevor finished.
He could tell that Bahar was still extremely suspicious. The man reached for his wine again, this time draining the slender glass. He snapped his fingers to get their waiter’s attention, and the young man hurried over to take their drink orders. Trevor was pleased that Bahar didn’t make a move to pick up the menu in front of him. No let’s-chat-over-some-delicious-food pretense. This was right to business, just the way Trevor liked it.
“Let’s say that the information you’ve received is correct,” Bahar began. “And mind you, I am being hypothetical here.”
“Of course,” Trevor said pleasantly.
“Hypothetically speaking, if the type of merchandise you mentioned should exist, I believe there would be a high price to pay.”
Yes.
Next to him, Isabel’s expression didn’t change, but he sensed that she felt the same burst of excitement. Always came down to money now, didn’t it?
“No price is too high,” Trevor replied with a cocky smile.
He squeezed Isabel’s bare shoulder, eliciting a girlish squeak from her lips, which were slathered with pink gloss that made them look lush and shiny. “I would pay anything to put a smile on my beautiful bride’s face, and I can assure you, I have plenty of money to invest in just this sort of enterprise.”
Bahar simply nodded. That he didn’t question the remark told Trevor he’d had Julian Martin’s financial statements thoroughly examined. Several of Julian’s assets were completely bogus, the nature of the fraud buried under heaps of tiresome paperwork, but the cash in Martin’s numerous bank accounts was no fraud. Morgan had used much of his personal fortune to finance the elaborate cover, and that fortune was pretty damn impressive. When Trevor first went to work for the legendary mercenary, he’d been shocked by the man’s net worth. Apparently Morgan came from serious wealth. Why he’d decided to work as a merc rather than sit on his big pile of money was a fucking mystery to everyone.
“So, is this something your employer would be interested in?” Trevor asked, injecting a touch of pressure in his voice.
Bahar leaned back, his thin lips pursed. “Perhaps. If, of course, such merchandise was available.”
“And let’s say it is,” Trevor pressed. “How would a transaction of that nature come about?”
“Hypothetically speaking—”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“—it would happen in a secure location. The buyers would be taken to private rooms and be provided with a catalog showcasing the merchandise. If buyers request a closer look, the item would be brought to them for further examination.”
Trevor felt sick. Fortunately, their waiter returned holding a tray of drinks, providing a brief respite from the revolting course this discussion had suddenly taken.
Thanking the waiter, he handed Isabel her martini glass. She took a delicate sip and smiled impishly. “Salty,” she purred. “Just the way I like it.”
Bahar coughed. He recovered quickly, downing half the wine in his glass. “As I was saying…”
“Yes,” Trevor prompted. “The transaction.”
“More of a silent auction, I would call it.”
Bingo.
“After the merchandise has been examined, the buyers place their bids, funds exchange hands, and the merchandise is released to the successful bidders.”
Isabel looked curious. “And the items that don’t get sold? What would happen to them?” She smiled prettily. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“The items would be shipped to Asia. We—” Bahar quickly corrected his slipup. “A person with such merchandise on hand would most likely have a standing business arrangement with Asia. They seem to enjoy these particular types of goods.”
Disgust circled Trevor’s gut like a hungry vulture. Jesus. These people were sick fucks. He couldn’t believe he and Isabel were sitting here with this man, listening to his hypothetical bullshit, discussing the sale of human beings as if it were an everyday occurrence.
“Of course,” Bahar continued, “an attendance fee would be required, in the event that the items aren’t to the bidders’ liking.”
“Like I said, money isn’t a problem.”
“Yes, you did say that, didn’t you?” Bahar tipped his head pensively. “What business are you in, Mr. Martin? You neglected to mention it.”
“I dabble, do a little bit of everything. Most of my funds came from an inheritance, but I’ve invested wisely over the years. I own several businesses, including a very lucrative gentlemen’s lounge in Rio.” Gentlemen’s lounge was just a fancy way to say whorehouse, but Bahar obviously got the drift.
“I see,” Bahar said absently.
Trevor forced himself to maintain a relaxed posture. Bahar wasn’t taking the bait. He was still wary of them. Guarded.
Prepared to launch into another pitch, Trevor opened his mouth, then snapped it shut when Isabel’s manicured hand suddenly snaked into his lap, bloodred fingernails scraping against his zipper. Unlike the way she’d crotch-handled him in front of Esposito, she didn’t hold back this time. He knew what she was doing. Bahar needed a show, needed to believe Julian Martin and his feisty Paloma were all about debauchery. A hand job in public would be no biggie for them. They wanted to buy a real-life sex toy, for Pete’s sake.
Trevor smothered a wild groan. Jesus. Her hand rubbed his groin, which started to harden, to his dismay. Why couldn’t his body remember he was dead inside? It wasn’t supposed to come to life when Isabel Roma touched him.
“Have you ever been to Rio?” Isabel asked Bahar in a conversational tone, all the while continuing to stroke Trevor’s growing erection.
Disapproval and arousal warred in the man’s dark eyes. “Several times. It’s a lovely city.”
“Yes, very lovely,” she agreed.
Trevor’s mouth felt like someone had shoved a handful of sand in it. He couldn’t get a word out. The traitorous heat of desire surged through his veins, combining with a dose of self-hatred that made him want to push Isabel away.
He hadn’t thought about sex since Gina’s death. That part of his life had ceased to exist once he’d lost the only woman he’d ever wanted in his bed.
He nearly fell off the chair when Isabel cupped his cock over his pants. He released a ragged breath and noticed Bahar’s knowing gaze. Despite the long tablecloth covering Trevor’s lap, it was hard to miss the movement of Isabel’s hand.
Clearing his throat, Blanco’s attorney put down his wineglass. “I’m afraid I must get going,” he announced, smoothing the front of his gray wool blazer. “I’ll pass along the details of this meeting to Mr. Blanco, and, if he’s interested, we will contact you.”
“Thank you again for taking the time to see us.” Trevor didn’t stand for a handshake. He simply leaned forward and extended his hand, forcing Bahar to step over and shake it. No way was he getting up in his condition. He probably wouldn’t be able to walk with that rock between his legs.
Isabel rose, though, her heels snapping as she moved toward Bahar. She bent down to kiss both of the man’s cheeks, her voice practically purring as she said, “It was wonderful meeting you.”
Bahar’s dark eyes went a little glazed. He glanced down at Isabel’s breasts, then said, “The pleasure was all mine.”
With a nod, the small man left the patio, his strides surprisingly long and smooth despite his height. Isabel watched him go, then took the seat Bahar had occupied, putting much-needed distance between the two of them.
“What do you think?” she asked, sounding pensive.
Trevor finally found his voice. His erection, thankfully, had begun to subside the moment Isabel quit stroking it. “I’m sixty-forty on this one,” he said roughly. “I think we piqued his interest.”
A slow smile spread over her pretty face. “Yeah, I think we did.”
He wanted to berate her for the borderline sex show she’d put on, but bit back the resentful words. She’d played her part perfectly, done precisely what she’d needed to do to ease some of Bahar’s concerns.
Her small, delicate hand reached for the menu. “Should we stay and have some dinner?”
“No,” he blurted out.
His abruptness caused her eyebrows to rise. “No need to snap at me, Callaghan.”
Rather than apologizing, he stood up, his knees unusually wobbly. Fuck. This wasn’t good. The need to get away from this woman came hard and fast. Why had she done that to him? How could she make him betray Gina like that?
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he muttered. “I have some phone calls to make.”
Luke whistled as Abby approached the edge of the pond to test the water with her big toe. She’d changed into a skimpy green bikini that left so little to the imagination she may as well have been naked, and Kane was valiantly trying not to leer at her like a horny teenager. The creamy expanse of her cleavage, her firm ass, the graceful curve of her spine, her long, shapely legs. He finally decided to focus on something that wouldn’t give him a boner—her injuries. Some of t
he red welts on her stomach were beginning to fade, as were the bruises on her face, and she didn’t seem to be struggling with breathing anymore either, a sign that her ribs were starting to heal. But damn, looking at her rib cage naturally lured his gaze to her breasts again, and he clenched his teeth to quell his rising desire. He couldn’t look away. Neither could Luke and Ethan, which annoyed him.
“I can see why Blanco trusted her so easily,” Luke remarked. “She does exude a certain charm.”
She exuded a helluva lot more than charm. Sex appeal oozed out of her, which was ironic seeing as how she was completely indifferent to sex.
But she hadn’t been indifferent yesterday…
He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Walking back to his room last night had been somewhat of a struggle, considering how hard he’d been. His pulse had raced like a thoroughbred around a track and the heat flooding his stiff body made it difficult to breathe. He definitely hadn’t been expecting it to be like that. He’d wanted to tease her a little, give her a taste of what he had to offer, and instead he was the one who felt teased. He was the one who wanted another taste.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s release had turned him on so intensely. He’d been primed and hot and so ready to bury himself inside her he’d almost keeled over from the need.
And now she was standing five feet away, practically naked, and it was just as difficult to shake the fog of arousal from his brain. He couldn’t stop picturing the way her face had looked last night. Taut with desire. Blue eyes smoky with passion. The soft moan slipping out of her throat as she toppled over the edge.
He inhaled, then released his breath slowly, trying to erase the image of Abby’s flushed, aroused face from his mind. But then she turned her head toward him, and the breath he was in the process of releasing came out as a hiss. Her eyes. The pale blue he’d become accustomed to was now dark yellow, the color of warm honey. Surrounded by thick, dark lashes, her eyes seemed to glow in her face. Holy shit, they were incredible.
