Saved By The Enemy (Hacienda Heights Book 3)

by Emma Roberts

When he stepped back, I said, “Come back here. I’m not through with you.”

  “I’m not fucking you here, Mina.” He shook his head, ramming his fingers through his hair.

  My spirits plummeted. I needed him. Surely he wouldn’t just leave me to my own devices, would he? I groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. I needed to feel him inside me. I needed to be close to him and feel his heartbeat beneath my hand.

  His gaze was still on me, and the heat in his eyes belied his words. I knew that look. He’d fixed me with it about a thousand times, and each and every time he’d brought me to a screaming orgasm by the time he was through.

  His hands shot out, and he arranged me diagonally across the narrow bed as I snatched up a flimsy pillow so I could prop my head up against the opposite rail.

  “I thought you said you weren’t fucking me,” I teased him, raising one eyebrow.

  “Not until you’re well. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pleasure you.”

  Logan’s hands gently caressed my thighs, avoiding my heavily bandaged calf. He parted my legs with infinite care, and with a wicked grin, delved beneath my hospital gown.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped as the first stroke of his tongue found my clit, making my back arch.

  “I prefer Mr. Farraday,” he said with a chuckle. The sensation of that laugh had me clutching the bedsheets desperately.

  He zeroed in on my throbbing flesh with the single-minded focus I knew he was capable of. As I’d feared, as the waves of pleasure mounted higher and higher, my heart monitor reported the change. It was embarrassing to have my body’s every reaction telegraphed for Logan to hear, but it only seemed to amuse him.

  I bucked and wound my fingers into his hair, trying to pull him closer. I was so damn close to going over the edge. I just needed…more.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Logan sank two fingers into me, pumping them in and out. The tips of those magnificent fingers brushed over the spot that made my toes curl. My mouth parted in a silent scream and I came apart in his arms, riding out the orgasm as my body convulsed. Logan held me through my completion, emerging from beneath my gown to smirk at me.

  He licked his lips, an act which shouldn’t have been as insanely hot as it was. “Now get some sleep, Mina,” he said in a satisfied tone as he licked each one of his fingers clean, savoring my taste. “I’m not taking you on this suicide mission until you’re released.”

  I nodded, lethargy already stealing over me, even as I gazed at the large diamond winking at me from my finger. I still had some questions for the doctor, ones that I couldn’t ask while Logan was here. And if I was right about my suspicions, I couldn’t let Logan know. Not yet.

  “Goodnight, Logan,” I murmured.

  “Goodnight, Mina. Sweet dreams.”

  “They always are, when they’re of you,” I whispered before sleep draped over me like a warm blanket. I didn’t hear his reply.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Logan

  I really, really didn’t like this.

  No matter how many policemen from Police Nationale and armed forces from Gendarmerie Nationale waited outside the house, ready to spring at my signal, I still wasn’t comfortable with the plan. I didn’t like the danger it put Mina in. There were too many ways this could go wrong.

  “Unclench your ass, Logan. I’m going to be fine,” Mina said in an undertone. She needn’t have bothered keeping her voice down. The police would hear everything we were saying, and more. The mics hidden in her necklace and my tie clip were extremely sensitive.

  My grip on her elbow tightened just a fraction. Mina was breathtaking, decked out as she was in a black teddy and matching thigh-high garters. The left over wound from the bullet had been too distinctive to risk leaving her legs bare. I didn’t like the new color on her hair. Blonde, instead of her natural red. We’d have to remedy that the moment we got home. Heather would have an apoplectic fit at what Mina’d done to it. With her hair done up in curls and tottering around on high heels, she reminded me too much of Phoebe.

  “Not until you’re safe,” I hissed back.

  I fell silent when we reached a set of wooden double doors. Guards in gray suits that matched mine nodded to me once and opened the doors so we could pass.

  Sylvian Ancel’s house was enormous. It dwarfed even my home in LA. With the exterior painted a shimmering blue and decked out in white French doors and windows, it was the pinnacle of old-world sophistication. But the interior of the home, while pretty, gave off a slimy feel. I hoped that the button cam pinned to my lapel was picking up every goddamned second I spent in it. I wanted every single man and woman involved in this scheme to rot in hell.

  As the doors opened, the scene nearly broke my carefully crafted control. A man reclined on a couch nearby, a woman in similar attire as Mina’s stroking him through his suit. It took all my control not to break every single one of his fingers wrapped around her arm. Similar things were happening all throughout the room, and even though I kept my eyes facing forward to try to keep myself in check, I still caught snippets.

  A deep, festering hatred roiled in my gut. The cruelty on display was staggering and couldn’t be allowed to continue. What sort of person could happily participate in it?

  If Mina and I got out of this alive, I wasn’t going to sit complacent as a CEO. Even if the job was still waiting for me and the company somehow managed to limp forward, I wasn’t going back. I was going to find a way to be a part of ridding the world of shits like the man on the couch. I was well-trained, I had the ability. I just needed an in. This was what I was made for. Saving people. Starting with the women Mina had befriended during her brief tenure as a trafficked woman. Kathleen.

  “I’m in position,” Keenan said quietly, his voice coming through the wireless in my ear and calming my ragged nerves just a fraction.

  Keenan had a credit card on his person that was linked to my bank with an alias and I’d already authorized my bank to release whatever funds he needed in order to purchase Mina. Even if Mina ended up on the auction block, she’d never pass into enemy hands. If it came down to it, she’d be passed from my hands to Keenan’s. He was the only other person I trusted in the entire building to take her.

  The auction was set to take place on the second floor. When we reached the top of the stairs, I found that all the decadent furniture had been pushed to the sides of a ballroom and a raised platform set up in the middle of the floor. A dozen or so moguls lounged around on the upholstered couches, sipping champagne and eyeing the women lined up at the back wall.

  Keenan was curled into the corner of a sectional, though he was barely recognizable. He’d been as done-up as Mina, in the end, and prepared with an alias—Mr. Halloway. No one in this room would recognize him as the American actor Keenan Blakely. The bald cap he wore hid his distinctive hair, and the makeup artist had rendered his face as an older, distinguished gentleman. He was engaging Sylvian Ancel in conversation.

  My stomach turned. Keenan was a stronger man than I was, if he could smile into the face of the man who planned to sell his sister as a sex slave.

  Loathe as I was to do it, I escorted Mina across the room toward the line. All eyes fell to her as we crossed the room, and it was difficult not to draw out my pistol and shoot every single one of the perverted men.

  As we arrived near the line, Mina adopted a similar hunched position as the rest of the women, looking for all the world like a defeated woman. The plan was for her to be last in line, so the whole auction could be caught on video.

  When she was in place, Sylvian jumped to his feet, a jovial expression on his face. He was a man in his mid-forties, his hair fair, with only a hint of gray visible at the temples. He had the skin of a man who had tanned too much, dark and tough like boot leather. He spoke in accented English due to the international crowd, for which I was grateful. I didn’t want to be caught unaware.

  “That is enough talking for the evening, gentlemen. Why do we not we get started? Give you a peek at
what you have all been waiting for. Lowman, would you bring our first girl up to the dais, please?”

  Lowman was a squat, fat man with a face that resembled a toad’s. I didn’t blame the first woman in line when she shied away from him. She was pretty, certainly not the beauty that Mina or even Julienne were, but still attractive. Only because I was ultra-alert did I catch the flinching of Mina’s eyelids. She mouthed a word. Kathleen.

  Ah, so this must have been one of the girls traveling with her.

  “She is American, speaks two languages, and was once a gymnast. Her bustline and waist are small. We have confirmed that she is a virgin. Shall we start the bidding at ten thousand?”

  I hesitated for a fraction of a second, making a decision.

  “Bid,” I muttered low so that even those men nearby wouldn’t hear.

  Keenan tilted his head to one side and hissed back, “We’re only supposed to bid on Mina.”

  “Bid, damn it.”

  Keenan gave me a brief look of consternation before he raised a finger. “Ten thousand.”

  Ancel flashed Keenan a conspiratorial smile and Keenan fought not to look revolted in return. “Ten thousand. Do we have a bid for fifteen?”

  A tall, thin man at the back of the room lifted his finger and gave Ancel a nod.

  Keenan immediately leapt in with, “Thirty thousand.”

  Ancel glanced at the man who’d counterbid.

  He shrugged. “Too rich for my blood. Let him have her.”

  “Sold, for thirty thousand. You may pick up your purchase at the end of the auction, Mr. Halloway.”

  Either Ancel wasn’t watching him closely or I was just better at reading him, but I could have sworn Keenan gagged.

  The parade of women were sold off one by one, with Ancel listing each of their physical attributes and career choices from a small card he held.

  When Mina was led up to the dais, every muscle in my body locked. She wasn’t recognizable as the senator’s daughter, but it didn’t matter. She was still my Mina, and I wasn’t about to lose her. I shot Keenan an almost desperate glance and he nodded back, not looking quite well himself. My hands balled into fists at my sides and I bit the inside of my cheek so hard the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

  “And last, but certainly not least, we have Genevieve Baschet. She is a French native, procured from Lyon. As you can see, she has quite an impressive bustline, decently proportioned hips, and a small waist. She is fluent in three languages, and while not a virgin, is still rumored to be quite inexperienced. Perhaps only one other lover.”

  My heart stopped in my chest. I knew it was probably only a cover story, but could it be true? Had Mina never been with another man but me?

  Mina lifted her chin defiantly, staring out at the crowd of men. Now was the moment of truth. Once Keenan said the words, the police would come swarming into the room.

  Ancel cleared his throat. “Shall we start the bidding at—”

  “Fifty thousand,” Keenan said loudly, cutting off the host with ringing authority.

  Ancel took a moment to recover. “Ah...the bidding starts at fifty thousand. Do I hear a bid for fifty-five thousand?”

  There wasn’t a counteroffer. Instead, a loud disturbance rose up from the floor below. A woman’s short cry of distress, and a man’s defiant bellow. There were no shots, thank God. But the men in the room stirred.

  “What is happening, Ancel?” one of the men asked, the words barely recognizable as English through a thick Welsh accent.

  Ancel’s genial smile wavered. “I am sure it is nothing. Shall we continue? The bidding—”

  “Ends now,” I said in clipped words, drawing my pistol from its holster at my back. About a dozen other guards did the same. We’d managed to arrest most of Ancel’s guards before the party even began, swapping them for as many of Brigadier Kolby’s men as we could manage. One of the officers had claimed it was one of the greatest coup d’etats they’d ever pulled off. I really didn’t give a fuck, so long as Mina was safe.

  Ancel’s face changed over into a mask of fury. “Put your guns away, you imbeciles. There are guests present. Someone could be shot!”

  A fierce smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Oh, just give me a reason, Ancel. I’d love to blow your head off.”

  Another of the men seated on the sofa stood as well, rummaging in his pocket. He produced a badge and flipped it open for Ancel to see. Ancel’s face drained of all color when he recognized the Police Nationale badge.

  “My name is Brigadier James Kolby, and you and all your compatriots are under arrest.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mina

  I was wired as we took off in the private jet Logan had spirited us all onto. High on the thrill of victory, not even Logan’s grumpy glare could dampen my spirits after the coup we’d just pulled off in France. Brigadier Kolby had still been singing Logan’s praises when we’d left.

  Glancing to my right, I gazed at an exhausted Kathleen, propped up in one of the seats, mouth slack and drooling on her pillow. She’d been through so much. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her. I tried to reassure myself that not much could have happened to her. She had been too valuable as a virgin to defile. But I wasn’t naive. There were a lot of ways a woman could be violated without having her hymen broken. If she felt like talking about it when we landed, I’d listen. But for now, I’d let her sleep.

  “Mina needs to give her brother a hug,” Keenan said with a grin as he unclipped his seatbelt and rose, opening his arms wide.

  I hesitated. A bit of the old bitterness still clung, and part of me wanted to spurn him for all those years during which he and Mom and the Senator had abandoned me. But according to Logan, Keenan’d played a key role in my rescue. He’d tried to make up for the years of absence by saving my life. That deserved a hug, surely.

  I stood and met him in the aisle, wrapping my arms around his bulky waist awkwardly, leaning my head into his chest. He smelled exactly the same as I remembered. His cologne had always had a clean, crisp scent to it. He’d marketed the unique blend last year and it had been nostalgic when one of my clients had worn in on our fake date. I expected him to pull away after the brief contact and make some joke about his annoying little sister always getting into trouble. Instead, his arms locked around me and he pulled me even closer. His strong arms threatened to crush the life out of me.

  “Oxygen,” I gasped. “I need it to survive, Keenan.”

  He let out a rumbling laugh and loosened his grip, but still didn’t let go. “I missed you, sis.”

  I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t release a sour retort. He’d made sure I was safe, he’d apologized. It didn’t make up for years of neglect, but it was a start.

  Keenan seemed to be on the same wavelength, because he released me a second later and held me at arm’s length. His broad face wasn’t accustomed to wearing an apologetic mask, I could tell. His reticence drew a grin from me.

  “I know we’ve been horrible to you, Mina. But that all changes now, believe me. Dad was willing to empty his bank accounts to get you back. He really has been looking for a way to bring you back into the family, it’s just...he’s a stubborn bastard. We both know that. So don’t throw it in his face, okay?”

  I held in my instinctive retort, which was to say my stepfather could shove his pride and use it as a suppository. I thought he could use one. I didn’t think he’d unclenched his ass since…ever. Maybe it was the thrill of taking down the ring or the gratitude I felt toward Keenan. I’d give my stepfather the benefit of the doubt, if only so I could see my mother. After the ordeal I’d been through, I needed to talk to her. And she was the first person I wanted to hear the news.

  My hand shifted subtly toward my stomach, and I was grateful that no one seemed to notice. The doctor had confirmed what I’d already suspected. I was pregnant. In the heat of the moment, we’d forgotten to be careful, though for the life of me I couldn’t pinpoint which time it could have be
en, there had been so many. Those first unsteady weeks Logan and I were thrown together were a blur of toe-curling sex and intense emotions.

  I was five or six weeks along. They’d told me the baby hadn’t been affected by my high fever or the anesthesia they’d used during surgery. That everything looked normal, but some part of me still worried.

  I’d specifically kept the news from Logan, certain he wouldn’t have allowed me to take part in busting the trafficking ring if he’d known. And I was sure he’d go ballistic the moment he found out.

  The doctor had said it was entirely possible that I could be experiencing morning sickness, and that it was a good sign that the pregnancy was healthy. Which explained my nausea when Julienne and I were on the run, and the hint of it I still had now. I tried to cling to that, even as the oyster crackers I’d eaten threatened to crawl back up my throat.

  “Try to rest, Mina, please,” Logan said, patting the seat next to him.

  I returned to his side and slid into the seat wordlessly. He pulled my head to lay on his shoulder lightly. The padded shoulders of his suit didn’t make for the most comfortable pillow, but they must have done the trick, because the next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake by a flight attendant wearing a sheepish expression.

  “We’ve landed, Miss Blakely,” she informed me with a smile.

  I stood and stretched, trying to shake the weariness in my bones. Victory was one hell of a drug, one that had made me forget that I’d barely eaten or slept much since I’d left the States. I wanted nothing more than to climb into Logan’s SUV and sleep all the way back to his home.

  “I can carry you out,” Logan said conspiratorially. “Practice for later.”

  “I can walk, Logan. I’ve been off my feet so often in the last few weeks. Did I tell you how sick I am of being treated like an invalid?”

  “You may have mentioned it.” Logan slung an arm around my waist and tucked me in tight to his side as we exited the plane. He hadn’t allowed me to take much more than a single step without him since the auction. It was like being a part of a three-legged race, but without the rope and prize at the end. Though I could probably convince Logan on the bondage if I tried...