“Except you,” Celina observed with a smile.
The old man shrugged as she shared her meager rations of airport sandwiches. “Living here is all I know,” he explained. “It’s too late for me to go anywhere.”
“Maybe not,” she said gently. “I’ve got friends who could help you.”
“And where would I go? I don’t want to leave. This is my home,” he protested.
She couldn’t argue with that, and they fell into silence as his ancient vehicle bounced along. The familiar forest stretched away on either side of the narrow road, but with every mile traveled, she felt more apprehensive, and more certain that she had come too late to save Marissa. Craning her neck, she stared out the windscreen, marveling at how tenacious the trees were as they clung to seemingly bare rock on the lower slopes of the mountains. But she couldn’t feel the same affinity as the old man obviously did with a land that had rarely been kind to her.
Knowing so little of her history before she was left on the steps of the orphanage, she’d didn’t even know if she belonged here, and now she felt nothing but a faint sense of dread. She thought back to what she’d learned about the trade of human trafficking. She knew the route through Europe the slavers took to sell off some of their stock, as she’d picked up the different languages at the various stopping places and her fellow captives had told her they held auctions right here in the place where she’d grown up.
“Is it a man that brought you back?”
She brushed off the old man’s question with a smile. She didn’t want to think about her imprisonment in Monte Carlo or the fact that she’d fallen in love with the hero who rescued her, and that now she must draw Diego back into danger so they could crack the gang. “Has there been much trouble while I’ve been away?” she asked instead, hoping to learn something new.
“Apart from all the villages from here to the border being left in ruins by the rebels, do you mean?”
She gave the old man a sympathetic look that prompted him to continue.
“There’s talk of human trafficking. Slavers in the area,” he said with a worried glance in Celina’s direction. “You’ll need to take care. They’re taking advantage of the lawless situation to ply their vicious trade.”
She made a sound of concern as if this was all new to her. “Any village in particular?”
He named two. One was where she’d taught school, and the other was even more remote, but just a few miles away. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.
“If I were young like you, I’d head straight back to the border and get out of here fast.”
She said nothing. She had no intention of leaving until the job was done.
The old man shrugged, and they didn’t speak again until he dropped her off within walking distance of the village where she’d taught school. “I can’t take you any closer,” he said, drawing his ancient vehicle to a grinding halt. “It’s too dangerous.”
She pressed the last of her money on him and climbed out. The slavers would take everything anyway. Her stomach clenched as he drove away. She’d never felt so alone, or uncertain. There was no guarantee that Diego would speak to Amber, or that the team would follow her here. She had to rely on the fact that Diego was a renowned tracker and as keen on tech as she was.
The silence was smothering when she reached the outskirts of the village. Even the birds were silent as she began the long walk down the main street. The walls of the buildings were pockmarked with gunfire. Windows were smashed on the house where she’d rented a room. The front door was hanging off its hinges. But there was smoke coming from the doctor’s house.
Signs of life like the smoke should have cheered her, but instead it sent shivers down her spine, because other things were wrong. The flowerbeds that used to provide a cheery welcome for patients were trampled, and all the plants were dead. And then a door opened and a voice called out, “I know that face.”
Chapter Nine
Diego didn’t rush into action. He planned first. Amber had come to find him, and now he was sitting in his tech suite in his house in Spain, turning the tiny receiver she’d found on her desk that morning over and over in his hand. “You know what this means, don’t you?” Amber had said. “She’d already on her way back.”
It was a powerful little gadget. Celina hadn’t taken any chances on him finding it and unlocking its secrets. They both knew if she were captured, her cell phone would be the first thing to go. This was why she’d been so secretive with him. Celina had unfinished business and she was putting her life on the line to see it through. He guessed her intention was to lead Blood and Thunder to the slavers, but there was only one way to do that, which was to infiltrate their gang. She’d have to be captured again to do that. His gut clenched at the thought of her walking blindfolded into danger. She was always helping others. It was time someone helped Celina. The slavers wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if they found out what she planned to do.
The fact she’d trusted him to follow the clues she’d left meant a lot. He smiled with satisfaction as he decoded the wafer-thin receiver. She’d made sure they could stay in touch if only by a flashing red light on a monitor screen. He couldn’t imagine where she’d hidden the tracker. He’d already filed a flight plan and made a mental list of the equipment he would need. He had only a vague address to go on until the tracker picked up her trail. Celina’s CV had mentioned a room she’d rented in an isolated mountain village, which was better than nothing, he supposed.
He piloted the jet, and his route took him east. On the advice of the refueling guy when he landed, he took a walk to the nearest gas station, where there were vehicles for hire. Choosing the most unobtrusive vehicle, which meant it was battered and old, he used his own GPS to find a route to cross the border. The team would follow as soon as they’d loaded up the second jet. Alexei had called him while he was in the air. Just as well. There were rumors of the rebels regrouping. And where there were rebels, there would be slavers picking up the scraps.
The old flatbed gave him a grudging fifty. His frustration at the lack of speed was off the scale. He had to find Celina fast, before the slavers harmed her. It was a matter of honor. And sex, as Cesar had coolly pointed out. He had never spoken an angry word to one of his colleagues, but that was the closest Diego had ever come to punching one of them.
Alexei had come up with an even more outrageous suggestion when he countered Cesar’s remark by saying that what Diego felt for Celina was a lot more than sex. He’d had to remind himself to make allowances for Alexei, who was still in the honeymoon stage of a romance.
He banged the monitor screen, which had so far refused to give him a signal, and swore with relief when a small red light began to flash. He would have preferred a full image of Celina, but he’d take whatever he could get. Hammering his foot on the gas, he concentrated on keeping the wreck on the road.
~~o0o~~
Celina had always known that reality would be very different from planning this safely in Spain. She just hadn’t expected to be so scared that her brain stalled and refused to function. Once she was captured, she recognized at least two of the men from Monte Carlo. Which one would rape her first? Or would they just go straight to killing her? They all had vicious knives as well guns tucked into their belts. At the very least, they’d torture her.
The air in the once-spotless surgery was thick with cigarette smoke. The gang had been playing cards and drinking coffee around a table that was filthy with stale sandwiches and drink. The thug who knew her closed and bolted the door. “Look what the wind blew in,” he derided.
She was numb with terror, but she had to keep her wits about her if she was going to stay alive. She had to believe Diego had found her clues and that the team would be hot on her heels.
“Bitch!”
Her head jerked back as the thug slapped her in the face. Before she had chance to react, another threw her against the wall, while a third kicked out her legs. She fell hard, sprawled at their feet. Someo
ne hawked and spat on her, while the others lowered their zippers. It was almost a relief when they pissed on her rather than raped her, though the stink, the sound, the warm, sticky flow made her gag.
“Keep your mouth shut, bitch, or we’ll piss in there next,” one of them told her when she exclaimed with disgust.
Pressing her chin into her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face to protect it, which made them laugh all the more. She knew the game couldn’t last. They’d soon run out of ammunition. If she kept her head, there was still a chance that Diego had picked up her signal and she’d get out of here alive.
She screamed in pain as one of the men pulled her to her feet and dragged her into the yard by her hair. “You stinking cow,” he sneered as he ripped off her clothes.
She was almost tempted to thank him when he hosed her down with freezing-cold water. It was such a relief to be clean again. She shut her mind to the ugly catcalls and comments of the other members of the gang, who had come out of the house to jeer at her. She clung to the belief that they wouldn’t kill her, or why wash her? So they can rape me? But why not do that right away? And then an old woman marched into the yard and the men fell back in silence.
“What are you idiots doing to that girl?” the old woman yelled at them. She was dressed all in black, with a shawl covering her head, and seemed to have some authority over the gang. “She’s worth good money, this one,” she observed as she yanked Celina’s chin up. “She’s too good for your fun. Save her for the sale. We’ll move her to the next location. Put her in the van.”
Celina could never have imagined feeling so grateful to a crone who obviously worked with the slavers, but the old woman had saved her from rape or worse. She even found a thin gray blanket so Celina could cover herself.
“Put her in the van while I destroy the rest of her things,” she commanded. “You should have stripped her first,” she grumbled as she glanced around the muddy yard at Celina’s clothes scattered everywhere. “Did you search her belongings? You don’t know what she’s hiding.”
If they found out she had a transmitter, they’d kill her, and the old woman wasn’t stupid. She’d have to be careful, Celina concluded, now there was someone with half a brain on the case. The men shoved her into the back of their van. The old woman threw some dry clothes in after her, and then the door slammed and they locked it, leaving Celina alone in the darkness.
She pulled on the clothes as quickly as she could, sweats and old trainers several sizes too big. There was nowhere to sit apart from on a floor covered with a grimy rubber mat. She steadied herself against the side of the van as it lurched off. She had no idea where they were taking her, or how long the journey would be this time. She could only hope that they were taking her straight to auction and not back to Monte Carlo.
It was a relief when the van shuddered to a halt after about half an hour. Celina blinked in the light when the doors were flung open, and flinched back as one of the thugs reached inside.
“Not long now,” he promised as he dragged her out.
“Don’t mark her,” the man she presumed was his boss warned.
They’d parked in a ramshackle farmyard. The farmhouse seemed deserted. One of them dragged her toward a broken-down barn. Was this where the auctions were held? Yes! When they opened the barn door and pushed her inside, she saw the cleared area in the center of the dirty floor. The stage, she presumed. Lights had been set up around the perimeter, and a camera was fixed to a tripod.
“She’s not ready yet. Keep her moving,” the boss growled.
As he spoke, a door opened at the far end of the barn. The old witch must have flown in on her broomstick, Celina concluded, determined to keep up her spirits. And this elegant space must be my dressing room, she guessed as the crone pushed her into a dilapidated room festooned with spiderwebs.
“Welcome, welcome,” the old woman crowed.
There were mouse droppings on the floor, and the furniture consisted of a rickety wooden chair and a grimy-looking bed, neither of which Celina had any intention of touching. A selection of what she took to be grooming equipment was piled up on a rusty tray, but after her recent experiences, when the crone held out a bar of soap and a thin towel, Celina was as thrilled as if she was being offered high-end spa products. She couldn’t wait to have a proper wash.
“No hot water here,” her jailor cackled as Celina studied the various implements, wondering which one would be most use as a weapon. “I’ll take care of her now,” she added to the men waiting outside the door, slamming it shut with the toe of her boot. “Undress,” she commanded. “Take off all your clothes. I want to see you naked to be sure you’re not hiding anything.”
With no other option, Celina quickly did as she was told.
“Now, turn around. Slowly,” the crone instructed.
Celina had anticipated a strip search, but her heart was thundering. This was always going to be the most dangerous part of her plan. The search was unpleasant but necessary. Doing exactly as instructed, she took some small comfort from hearing the crone compliment her labial piercing.
“Very pretty. It will glitter in the light and draw attention where we need it, but I’m afraid you’ll have to take it out for now.”
Which was exactly what Celina had hoped would happen. She had quite literally bet her life on being told to remove any jewelry before being waxed and polished and made ready for sale. “Of course,” she said meekly.
Turning her back on the old woman, she carefully removed the neat gold hoop. The area was still a little sore, and she couldn’t risk the crone noticing that the piercing was quite recent. The hoop was an effective way to carry an unobtrusive micro-transmitter. Many agents were chipped as a matter of course, so Celina guessed a scanner would be the next hurdle she’d encounter.
Her jailor didn’t disappoint. Celina eyed the hand-held scanner. She was relieved to see how old it was and guessed its range would be limited.
“Give me the hoop, and I’ll put it on the tray,” the old woman instructed. “Then I’ll make sure you’re not hiding anything more sinister.”
Celina made sure to stand as far away from the rusty tray as possible. If she could get through this and then the next couple of hours, and if Amber hadn’t let her down and neither had Diego, the team should know her whereabouts by now. They had jets capable of transporting high-powered vehicles, so with any luck, they could be here before she was moved again. There was a lot of trust involved, and a lot of uncertainty, but she had to believe that what she was doing would be worthwhile.
She was relieved when the old woman put the scanner down.
“As I thought,” she gloated. “We’ve got another little chicken for the pot.”
“We’re an hour out with men and equipment,” Alexei confirmed. “Celina’s signal come through yet?”
“Strong and clear,” Diego confirmed. “We could be on the brink of something big here.” He fell silent as he wondered at what cost.
“This is all thanks to Celina,” Alexei told him. “You’ll get her back,” he added, sensing Diego’s concern.
“I just hope they haven’t found her tracker.” He stared again at the monitor he’d set up on the windscreen and drew comfort from the flashing red light.
“Have confidence in your woman.”
“She’s not my woman.”
“Whatever you say, Diego.” Alexei cut the line.
His throat dried as he stared again at the light. It showed where she was, not if Celina was alive.
~~o0o~~
“First the bikini, and then these shoes,” the crone instructed, standing back to watch Celina getting dressed. “And put that pussy ring back in. I like it. It makes you look like a provocative little tart.”
It might sting a little, but she was only too pleased to put back the ring. She stared in silence at the ugly red stilettos. “I won’t be able to walk in them,” she protested.
“You don’t have to walk,” the c
rone informed her. “You just have to stand and sway. Put them on,” she snapped. “The alternative to the sale is death. Anyone would think you were appearing in a fashion show,” she sneered. “This isn’t for your comfort but for the pleasure of the men watching you. Put them on, and then crisscross the leather laces up your legs. We want the buyers to think about bondage and what they’d like to do to you. They’ll pay more if you excite them.”
Celina did as she was told. There was no chance of escape and no sign of a rescue. It was a bit soon for a rescue, she conceded, and that was if the team was coming at all. Arguing with the old woman about whether or not to wear a pair of ugly shoes was hardly important compared to that.
“When it gets to the last couple of bids, there’ll be an interval,” the old woman explained as if Celina was about to take part in a charity auction. “That’s when you remove the bikini. But keep your shoes on. It’s sexier that way. Just watch your price rise,” she gloated.
Celina said nothing and remained steadfastly deadpan as she considered the likelihood of the hag being on a commission when it came to the sale of the women in her charge.
“While you’re being filmed, there’ll be music for you to move to,” the old woman went on. “If you refuse to move, my friends will hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine. Let’s just say there won’t be any marks on you outwardly, because that would reduce your value. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” Celina confirmed, straightening up.
When she heard the music start, she didn’t feel so brave. Her heart was pounding in her ears, drowning out the cheesy Europop. When the crone opened the door, she saw the gang boss waiting outside. “Is she ready?” he asked, looking Celina up and down. His lecherous stare lingered on Celina’s breasts, which were almost spilling out of her bikini top.
Spaniard Untamed Page 7
