Tara Garrett was an aspiring graphic designer, a senior in college from an upper-middle-class family. She wasn’t a nobody. She wasn’t an orphan. She’d gone to the club that night with a fairly large group of friends. Nothing about her had screamed vulnerablevictim.
The people who’d taken her had known exactly what they were doing. They’d pulled up in an unmarked black van with no plates and no identifying features, and grabbed her before anyone realized what was happening. For good measure, they’d attacked her in the one corner of the parking lot not covered by the securitycameras.
“You will after tonight. You’re better at reading people than anyone I’ve ever met, Adam. Use your skills to help us find her. Stick to theplan.”
Adam was a twenty-year veteran of the FBI as a master interrogator. His natural ability to see through artifice and lies had been honed to pinpoint precision by his experience and training. It was one of the reasons he was such a damn good Dom too—he was able to read his sub’s thoughts and needs without her tellinghim.
Tonight, it might give them the edge they needed to figure out who else at the party would be attending the private auction. They needed to find the men who were here to purchase realslaves.
“You spot Chaplinsky?” The Russian oil baron, and illegal arms dealer, had put out word on the black market that he was looking for a way into dealing inside the U.S. And Adam Devine just happened to be able to set up thatconnection.
Adam’s lids lowered over his eyes as he scanned the crowd slowly and thoroughly, like a lethal tiger on the hunt. Cole leaned back and watched the dominant do hismagic.
The sophisticated facial recognition processors in the arsenal of the FBI and the military could scan and tag known criminals, but that wasn’t the known Cole Fury needed tagged tonight. He needed the natural intuition possessed by AdamWise.
“The bald penguin in the suit in the corner. Lacquered finish, white diamond in the center.” Adam’s low spoken warning drew Cole’s attention to the man inquestion.
He had the round red nose of an old alcoholic, and a pate barely covered by combed over gray hair that screamed for shaving. His broad shoulders spoke of a man once active, but his middle now stretched the white fabric of his button-up shirt. “Yep, that’shim.”
Adam nodded. “Look at his eyes. He’s looking at the rest of the people around him like they’re beneath him. He knows this is a farce. Follow him and we’ll find the realauction.”
“Okay, you know what to do. Let’s go make our introduction.” Cole straightened from his leaning position, lifted his jaw, and assumed the expression of a bored sadist. He followed Adam’s lead, mingling in and out of the small clusters of wealthy businessmen looking for a little fun, drawing closer to their target by the minute. Adam was an expert at manipulating those around him, and Cole hung back, silent and lethal. None of the men they spoke to seemed to be in the know; hopefully red nose was theirin.
They passed the Russian. Cole turned abruptly, forcing his friend back a step. Adam bumped into their target, sending a wave of the man’s drink over his hand. “Idiot,” the man said with a harsh, gutturalaccent.
“My apologies, please allow me.” With the smooth, practiced precision of a man used to hosting a large group of people, Adam lifted his hand in the air and signaled the nearest server. “Would you please replaceMr.—”
“Chaplinsky,” the man filled inabruptly.
“Could you fetch Mr. Chaplinsky a new single malt scotch? And one for me aswell.”
Chaplinsky’s bushy gray brows lifted as the butler scurried away. “How did youknow?”
Adam lifted his own eyebrows knowingly. “I can recognize a fellow connoisseur across the room. If I had to guess, I’d say you were enjoying a sip of Macallan64.”
Chaplinsky’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the next moment he let out a guttural laugh and clapped Adam on the back. “It’s refreshing to talk to a cultivated man after spending the night surrounded byswine.”
Playing the role to a T, Adam let out a long low sigh. “Unfortunately, in my country such…false fronts…are necessary to conduct certaintransactions.”
“You are here for the auction?” Chaplinsky askedcarefully.
Adam lifted his chin with the regal bearing of a king. “Indeed, Iam.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Chaplinskysaid.
“Adam Devine. I have a modest family-owned oil business here in Texas.” Cole and Adam had worked out their respective identities before entering the party. Chaplinsky wouldn’t have time to find out if Adam was telling thetruth.
“Wonderful,” Chaplinsky said with a hint of delight. “I am in the business myself in the motherland. I’ve been looking for ways to expand into the States. But your government regulations on foreign trading arequite—”
“They are ridiculous,” Adam finished for the man. “Unless you know someone on theinside.”
Cole could practically see the gleam of greed in the fat man’s bloodshoteyes.
“Perhaps we could continue this conversation and figure out an arrangement that would benefit us both.” Chaplinsky pulled a small white card out of his customtuxedo.
Adam took it and slipped it inside his pocket with a smile. “I look forward toit.”
The server still hadn’t returned, and true to his role as a Dom master, Adam glanced at Cole, all hints of joviality disappearing. “Go find that lazyservant.”
