Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (21 page)

Her gaze flew to his. “Today?”

“You find it suspicious too, don’t you? That he arranged such a hasty meeting.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

Trevor pursed his lips in thought, tilting his head to
the side. “I don’t know. Could be, but Bahar really has no reason to suspect us. We’ve got a good cover in place, and I’m sure he did a thorough background check.”

“There are no holes in Julian Martin’s background?”

“None.” He arched one brow. “And Paloma Dominguez?”

“Rock solid.”

“Then we probably have nothing to worry about.”

Isabel had to laugh. “Probably? That’s very assuring.”

She thought she glimpsed a hint of a smile on his handsome face. “Are there any reassurances when it comes to this kind of work?” he countered.

After a moment, she let out a sigh. “No, there aren’t.”

Trevor shrugged, then set down the phone and headed toward the bathroom. “So we go forward.” He paused in the doorway and turned to shoot her a rueful look. “And if it’s a trap, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Bahar agreed to the meeting,” Morgan announced as he strode onto the terrace.

Kane lifted his gaze from the cards he was holding. “Trevor and Isabel convinced Esposito?”

Morgan nodded. “Yep. Bahar called Trev this morning. They’re having lunch today.”

“Good.” Kane turned his attention to his poker hand, sliding two red poker chips into the heaping pile in the middle of the table. “I raise a hundred.”

From her perch by the railing, Abby heard Luke curse softly. Apparently Kane had been kicking Luke and Ethan’s asses for the past hour, but she hadn’t been paying much attention. It was another disgustingly humid day, and the thin yellow sundress she wore clung to her skin like plastic wrap. Noelle must have been pretty
angry with her when she’d gone shopping for clothes, or maybe Noelle was hoping her own femme fatale tastes would rub off on Abby. Either way, she was now the proud owner of several skirts, tight jeans, and skimpy dresses she normally wouldn’t be caught dead in.

At least she wasn’t the only one wearing next to nothing. The men were all bare-chested, sweat coating their muscled flesh, and Abby had been trying not to look in Kane’s direction all morning.

He wasn’t looking at her either.

He was pissed. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Ever since she’d banished him from her room last night in order to talk to Devlin, Kane had been speaking to her in two-word sentences, his green eyes pretty much screaming
I don’t want to deal with you right now.

“Abby?”

She turned at the sound of Morgan’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear what I said? They got a meeting with Bahar.” Morgan’s face was unusually gentle. “We’re halfway there.”

She managed a halfhearted smile. “That’s great.”

He studied her. “You all right?”

“I’m fine.” She noticed the way Kane’s back tensed when she spoke. “Just distracted, that’s all.”

Although Morgan looked unconvinced, he simply nodded and left the terrace. Abby turned around again, breathing in the thick, almost unbearable heat.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a swimming pool?” Luke demanded. “We have a gym, an indoor and outdoor shooting range, a security system that rivals the one in the White House, but no freaking pool.”

“Maybe Morgan can’t swim,” Ethan piped up.

That remark set them off in a bout of loud laughter, but Abby noticed Kane didn’t join in.

Damn it, she’d screwed up. She thought of the way he’d looked at her last night, when he’d brought her to her first honest-to-God orgasm. His eyes had sizzled with heat. Genuine warmth. And then Devlin had had to call and mess everything up.

Ribbons of uneasiness uncurled in her stomach as she remembered the main topic of discussion. Devlin had been talking about Ted. He’d even played a portion of the tape from Dr. Silverton’s session, when Abby described the first time Ted hit her.

The memories Devlin had unearthed were ones she’d buried a long time ago. It sickened her that he could obtain so much joy from other people’s pain. Several times last night she’d almost hung up on the bastard, but she’d forced herself to stay on the line. Truth was, she was learning as much about Devlin as he was learning about her. When he spoke to her, she heard his anger and resentment, but at the same time, his tone of voice was almost reverent, as if he might worship her as well as loathe her.

His obsession with her could be used to her advantage if she played her cards right. For the time being, though, she would allow him his sick games. Dr. Silverton’s safety was in her hands and she knew Devlin wouldn’t hesitate to snap the doctor’s neck. From what she knew about the man, killing was a form of entertainment for him. He got off on it.

Well, Abby refused to give him a reason to indulge in his favorite sport. She knew Devlin wouldn’t be satisfied with phone calls for very long, but for the moment they kept him occupied and gave her time to figure out her next move. If she attempted to step in and remove Amanda
Silverton from harm’s way now, Devlin would simply find another way to get to her. Better to let him think he had the upper hand, that he was succeeding in tormenting her with the past. Let him believe she was weak. It would make it all the sweeter when she killed the bastard.

But not yet. The rescue mission was her top priority, which meant ridding the world of William Devlin would just have to wait.

“There’s that pond on the other side of the property,” Luke was saying. The chips on the table clinked as he added two more to the pile.

“Where D almost got mauled by the coyote?” Ethan hooted.

More laughter. Abby’s ears perked up. Damn bastard deserved a good coyote mauling. She hadn’t seen much of D since their disturbing conversation a few days ago, and she wasn’t complaining. It made her too uncomfortable, being around the man. Especially since they had so much in common.

Luke stood up. “I fold.” He dropped his cards on the table, faceup. Abby hid a grin when she noticed his hand—three of clubs and seven of hearts, with the five cards on the table doing nothing to help him out. She was surprised he’d stayed in for this long.

Kane groaned. “Seriously? But I’m having fun kicking your ass.”

“Tough shit. I’m going swimming.” Luke paused. “I’ll take a gun just in case the coyote shows up. Anyone want to join me?”

Ethan got up without hesitation. Sweat dripped between his pecs. “Hell, yes.”

Luke glanced over at her. “What about you, Sinclair?”

Her first instinct was to say no. Horsing around in a
pond with a couple of mercenaries wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, but this damn heat really was intolerable.

“What the hell?” she said with a shrug. “I think my ribs are up to it.”

“Get changed, then.” Luke headed for the sliding door. “I’ll meet you guys at the Jeep in five.”

As Ethan trailed after Luke, Abby approached the table, where Kane still sat in front of the abandoned poker game. “Are you coming?” she asked quietly.

He slowly met her eyes. “Should I?”

“I’d like it if you did.” Her own words surprised the hell out of her.

Out of him too, apparently. “Interesting, because last night you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

“I’m… sorry.” She took a breath. “I couldn’t talk to him while you were in the room. It would’ve been too hard.”

“Why?” His voice grew urgent. “Why are you spending time chatting with that sick fuck? What does he say to you?”

She shifted in discomfort. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” He scraped back his chair, staggering to his feet, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, pulling her toward him. “We were getting somewhere last night, Abby. Before Devlin called, we were… connecting.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“But you didn’t think that connection was important enough to keep exploring. You preferred to speak to
Devlin
.” Disbelief entered his face. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said again. “Can we just put this aside, for now anyway? It’s like a hundred degrees
out. Let’s go swimming, try to have some fun.” She offered a self-deprecating look. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t usually do fun.”

A reluctant smile tugged on his mouth. “I noticed.” Dropping his hands from her hips, he let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll put it aside. For now. But don’t think it’s over, Abby. One way or another, you’re going to tell me what you’re doing with Devlin. You’re going to tell me everything.”

The restaurant Samir Bahar chose for their lunch meeting was considerably more tasteful than the one where they’d met Esposito. The establishment was small but quaint, with a beautiful garden in the rear that featured a cobblestone patio and secluded tables with pristine white tablecloths.

Trevor had a tough time staying in character as Isabel walked ahead of him. She wore an indecently short peach-colored dress that looked incredible with all that black hair sliding down her back. Her silver stilettos clicked against the cobblestones as she seductively made her way to Bahar’s table. Trevor was tempted to turn around and get the hell out of there, but he forced himself to stay on course.

Still, it was incredibly difficult making sure his gaze rested on Isabel’s round bottom, looking at her the way a smitten husband ought to look.

“You must be Mr. Bahar!” Isabel chirped as they reached the table.

Bahar, a thin man with chocolate brown skin, stood to greet them. He wore starched white slacks and a gray blazer, and he was incredibly short; Isabel towered over him in her stilettos, and Trevor had to angle his head down to meet the other man’s wary dark eyes.

“Ms. Dominguez, I presume?” he said in a crisp, polished accent.

“Mrs. Martin,” she corrected with a giggle. “But please, call me Paloma.”

Bahar took her hand and squeezed it lightly, then turned to examine Trevor. “And you must be
Mr.
Martin.”

“Julian.”

The two men shook hands. “Please, have a seat,” Bahar said, gesturing to the two empty chairs.

Trevor made sure Isabel was settled, then took the remaining chair. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”

Bahar reached for the wineglass in front of him and took a small sip. “My employer and I were quite intrigued by the request.” He set the glass down and clasped his hands. “So tell me, what is it you think we might be able to do for you?”

Right to the point. Trevor liked that. So many businessmen tended to dance around the issue. Julian Martin preferred a more direct approach.

“I was told your employer might be offering some merchandise my wife would very much like to purchase.”

“And where did you hear that, if I may ask?”

This was the tricky part. The dossier they had on Blanco contained a list of known acquaintances and business associates, but Julian Martin hadn’t actually spoken to any of them. In the end they picked a name they felt Blanco might confide in—Juan Cortez, a fellow arms dealer with a vast network that stretched across several continents. They’d researched the network, discovering that one of the men further down on Cortez’s command ladder was a frequent visitor to the Brazilian brothel Julian Martin supposedly co-owned. Julian could’ve met
Abdul Farah any number of times, making him the perfect contact.

Didn’t matter that Trevor had never met the guy, or that he probably never would. Chances were, if Cortez believed one of his men had spoken out of turn about his business, whether that business was real or not, he’d have the rat taken out. And Trevor didn’t feel even an inkling of guilt. The world would be better off without the likes of Farah in it. The bastard liked young boys.

“An acquaintance by the name of Abdul Farah,” Trevor said carelessly. “Farah works for Juan Cortez, who I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“I am.” Bahar’s tone was cautious. “And what did this Farah have to say?”

“That your employer is in possession of some very unique merchandise.”

Giggling, Isabel leaned forward. “Very young and alluring merchandise,” she added.

“The likes of which my wife and I would be very interested in procuring,” Trevor finished.

He could tell that Bahar was still extremely suspicious. The man reached for his wine again, this time draining the slender glass. He snapped his fingers to get their waiter’s attention, and the young man hurried over to take their drink orders. Trevor was pleased that Bahar didn’t make a move to pick up the menu in front of him. No let’s-chat-over-some-delicious-food pretense. This was right to business, just the way Trevor liked it.

“Let’s say that the information you’ve received is correct,” Bahar began. “And mind you, I am being hypothetical here.”

“Of course,” Trevor said pleasantly.

“Hypothetically speaking, if the type of merchandise
you mentioned should exist, I believe there would be a high price to pay.”

Yes
.

Next to him, Isabel’s expression didn’t change, but he sensed that she felt the same burst of excitement. Always came down to money now, didn’t it?

“No price is too high,” Trevor replied with a cocky smile. He squeezed Isabel’s bare shoulder, eliciting a girlish squeak from her lips, which were slathered with pink gloss that made them look lush and shiny. “I would pay anything to put a smile on my beautiful bride’s face, and I can assure you, I have plenty of money to invest in just this sort of enterprise.”

Bahar simply nodded. That he didn’t question the remark told Trevor he’d had Julian Martin’s financial statements thoroughly examined. Several of Julian’s assets were completely bogus, the nature of the fraud buried under heaps of tiresome paperwork, but the cash in Martin’s numerous bank accounts was no fraud. Morgan had used much of his personal fortune to finance the elaborate cover, and that fortune was pretty damn impressive. When Trevor first went to work for the legendary mercenary, he’d been shocked by the man’s net worth. Apparently Morgan came from serious wealth. Why he’d decided to work as a merc rather than sit on his big pile of money was a fucking mystery to everyone.

“So, is this something your employer would be interested in?” Trevor asked, injecting a touch of pressure in his voice.