The old woman’s screeching laugh snapped her Celina to full attention and made her more determined than ever that she wouldn’t go quietly to her fate. The other victims had had no warning of what was about to happen to them, but she did. The gang would have to drug her again and drag her on board Del Roca’s helicopter. Brave thoughts, but how did she know if the trail of crumbs she’d left behind had been picked up by Diego and the team? All she had was hope, and trust in Diego.
~~o0o~~
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Diego raked his thick black hair in a fury of frustration as Alexei relayed the latest news. “Del Roca’s behind this?”
“Correct,” Alexei confirmed. “We just got a positive ID.”
“You’re sure it’s Del Roca who bought her?” His stomach turned over as he considered Celina’s chances if he didn’t intervene quickly.
“He took her out of the sale and reserved her for himself,” Alexei explained.
A long and frustrating few moments passed when the line between them crackled. “It isn’t like Del Roca to be so careless about revealing his whereabouts,” Alexei added as soon as the line cleared. “He must have known there was a possibility the auction was being monitored. He tuned in late to the proceedings. Perhaps he heard it was someone who worked for us and couldn’t resist hitting out.”
“If he knows she’s one of us, Celina’s chances of survival are zero if I don’t get to her first.”
“So she’s one of us now?” Alexei pressed dryly.
“What do you think?” he exclaimed. This was not the time to play coy. The clock was ticking on Celina’s safety. Del Roca had a long-standing grudge against the team and had been at the top of their hit list for as long as he could remember. “What about the other punters? Weren’t they disappointed when he took her off sale? Just by taking part in the auction, they must have known they risked revealing their locations.”
“No one would go up against Del Roca,” Alexei pointed out.
“Except us,” Diego countered. “But you’re right. A man who takes pleasure tossing young women out of his helicopter isn’t for amateurs to take on.”
It made perfect sense that Blood and Thunder’s nemesis was the man at the top of this pyramid. Diego switched to battle mode. If Del Roca discovered Celina had tricked him, she’d be dead before she took her next breath. No way was the mobster getting his bloodstained hands on Celina. He’d have to come through Diego first.
“If you free her from the barn too soon, Del Roca has no reason to come out of hiding,” Alexei pointed out.
“Are you suggesting I leave Celina in the barn as bait?”
“We’ll be there to back you up as soon as we can.”
“No fucking way, Alexei. I’m getting her out of there now.” It was a race against time to rescue Celina before Del Roca or one of his henchmen arrived.
~~o0o~~
I’m dressed to kill, Celina concluded tensely as she studied her reflection in the flyblown mirror propped up behind the rusty tray in her “dressing room.” The gang was excitedly waiting for the arrival of Del Roca’s helicopter, while she was putting on a bright red Spandex bandage dress that barely covered her naked crotch. The slavers had thought of everything, including providing dresses for their stock to wear once they were sold. Celina had chosen the least suggestive of these, and it still wouldn’t have looked out of place in a whorehouse. The last time she’d thought the phrase “dressed to kill” had been on Diego’s balcony, she remembered, when she’d been staring down at him at his party in Spain.
Missing him was like a sharp physical pain. The shock and grief of losing Marissa only made the risk to Diego’s life seem that much greater. If he had followed her, she’d put him in danger. And she’d done her very best to lure him here with her gizmos and trackers, together with her misguided impression that she could take on the world. If she could have persuaded Marissa to leave the school when she went back for her, the young teaching assistant might still be alive. How many more deaths did Celina want on her conscience before she could accept that she wasn’t a one-man army, holding the fort until the cavalry arrived, as the gang boss had so eloquently put it?
Another pang of longing and fear for Diego hit her hard. The one thing she hadn’t counted on when she came up with this plan was falling in love with him.
She turned as the old woman barged into the room.
“What are you doing in here?” the crone demanded, staring around suspiciously.
“I’m dressing as you instructed,” Celina replied politely.
“Here—put on some of this makeup so you’re pretty for your new owner.” The crone waved a rusty tin full of well-used powder and paint in front of Celina’s nose.
“Thank you.”
She had been so good at hiding her feelings up to now, but as she held the container with its jumble of cheap makeup, it was as if all the ghosts of the other women who’d gone before had returned to beg her to stop any more of them falling victim to the slavers. Just holding the tin sent shivers down her spine and renewed her determination to smash the gang.
“Behave when you leave here,” the crone cautioned, “or that pretty dress will become your shroud.” She rubbed her bony hands together as Celina stepped back from the mirror. “Are you ready to face your new owner?”
“Could I just…” Squeezing her legs together, Celina grimaced.
“Use the bucket,” the crone agreed, “but be quick. And don’t splash that dress.”
“I won’t.”
Shutting the door, Celina counted slowly to ten. Then, kicking off her heels, she used the upturned bucket as a step and heaved herself onto the ledge below the small, grime-coated window. She’d read somewhere that if she could get her head through a space, the rest would follow. It had better be true.
