“Bless you.”
Mankel's security guard blocked Hassan from getting within five feet of the car. “Let's go. Now.” He'd been here as long as he could tolerate.
The guard blocking Hassan shoved the man back and got into the waiting car, and they drove off. Trent, a hired Australian mercenary, turned around and said, “How do you want me to handle the peasant?”
“Clean sweep.” He couldn't afford to leave one scrap of evidence behind. Trent would send in his men and make sure Hassan ceased to exist.
Trent nodded and turned back around, pulling out a secure phone to complete the call. “Wipe him clean.”
Mankel relaxed into the seat. His plans were set in motion, and so far, everything had gone off without a hitch, except for the matter of Celine Latimer. Mankel stiffened. She could be a problem. “Call Katar. Have him come to the compound within the hour.”
“The slave trader?” Trent asked.
“Yes,” Mankel answered.
“Yes, sir.” Trent immediately grabbed his phone again, his ability to follow orders was one of the reasons Mankel hadkept him on the payroll for so long. Not only would Trent kill without question or compunction, but he had developed an attachment to Mankel.
Something Jack made sure to enforce with plenty of bonuses and free access to his slaves.
Loyalty could be bought; a lesson he'd learned more than two decades ago when Tom Cotter bribed and stole his fiancée, Sarah, leaving Jack to watch as the love of his life married his best friend. She’d gotten pregnant within the year, given birth to twin baby girls and died from complications a day later. Insane with grief and jealousy, Jack kidnapped one of the girls from the hospital, longing for a piece of his dead love and for a piece of retaliation.
And now, after years of plotting his revenge, his plans had finally aligned. He’d waited and bided his time, studying his opponent and learning his weaknesses. Tom Cotter had two: his power and his daughter.
Jack had both his daughters now. Next, he would take his power.
Chapter 4
The archaic windowair conditioning unit sputtered and coughed to life, fighting a losing battle against the heat, as the small multicolored plastic streamers snapped and crackled out from the vent. The Pit took up the entire end of the trailer, with one long table in the middle and metal folding chairs strewn in clusters around the room.
Fresh from the shower, Aaron swiped newly formed sweat from his forehead, wishing for something more than a 1980s-era window unit to cool this place down. But the heat of the desert was nothing compared to the heated pressure he felt when it came to finding Celine. He sank into the nearest empty chair. The insanely difficult training sessions he put his body through had managed to take a little bit of the edge off his need to hunt and kill, but not all.
Delta Force, a specialized team who’d also been assigned to track down the Senator’s daughter, would be here any minute and he might finally be able to find his girl. If he could force himself to wait.
Aaron closed his eyes and leaned back, crossing his ankles and threading his fingers together over his belly, appearing for all the world a man relaxed, but his thoughts tumbled relentlessly to last month and the last time Celine had smiled at him. The last time she kissed him.
She'd launched into his arms, leaving him no choice but to catch her, and her delicate arms wrapped around his neck. She'd taken that first kiss from him, sweet, sensual and commanding, she demanded that he respond. And he'd been completely helpless to resist.
“I swear, you can take a nap anywhere.”
Aaron opened his eyes to see Merc towering over him, feet shoulder width apart and arms crossed.
“If I'm not mistaken, I caught you dozing a time or two, too.” Aaron closed his eyes again. The meeting wouldn't start until all of Task Force Scorpion, TF-S, and Delta Force assembled.
“Yeah, you caught me napping one time. I'd gone two days straight with no break. Pretty sure that is a record.”
Aaron smiled, that was the only time he'd ever seen Merc display the slightest weakness. They'd been set up in a blind, cooking in the jungle heat on a drug cartel recon mission. When he'd seen Merc's eyes closed, he'd almost poked him to see if he was dead.
“It's okay, brother. I'll babysit you anytime.”
Aaron heard Merc snort and his heavy footfalls as he walked across the room. “Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to put this ancient piece of shit in here for an air conditioning unit?”
“Uncle Sam I bet. If you wanted coddling, you should've joined the Air Force.” Actually, their headquarters wasn't half bad compared to some of the places they'd been. At least here they had a roof over their head, an attempt at a/c and real beds.
“You got that right. Probably be put up in a four-star hotel right now drinking a beer with a chick on my arm,” Merc replied.
And just like that Aaron was thrust back into the vortex of guilt. He'd had female company and he'd been lazy and sloppyand lost her. Hell, why was he having such a strong reaction? It wasn't like he spent years with Celine, or that they had really even dated. They’d had sex. That was it. One time.
And that had rocked his very core.
