Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Aaron's Honor (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Men of Mercy Book 8) (5 page)

Besides Caroline?
“No, thank you.”

“Father, your guest has arrived,” Solana in her scary blue burka reappeared and Celine fought the urge to cringe.

“Escort him to the library.”

Solana bowed and backed from the room, gone as quickly as she'd arrived.

“Celine, it has been my pleasure. I'll leave you to your rest and see you off in the morning. Please make use of your new attire. I must go, business waits for no one.”

Mankel bowed and left, leaving Celine clutching her new clothes and alone with the feeling she'd missed something very important.

CHAPTER SIX

Jack Mankel extended a hand to the slight blond man perched on the edge of his antique 18th-century sofa. “Mr. Sven, so nice to meet you.”

Sven took his hand in a delicate handshake and allowed it to flutter back to his leg. “I'm here to inspect the merchandise. If I find it to my satisfaction, then we can complete the transaction.”

“And what did your employer think of the photos?” He’d taken plenty of pictures from the hidden cameras scattered throughout Celine’s bathroom and bedroom. She would add a nice bonus to his checking account.

And after the way Celine had hungrily gripped the seductive clothing he’d had purchased for her, he was fully confident she’d be ready for viewing fully.

“Quite stunning, he's very interested, but you must understand photos are not enough for a purchase of this magnitude.” Sven tapped his cheek and stared up at Mankel through lashes too thick to ever be considered manly.

“Of course, please follow me, you'll be able to observe her at your will.” Mankel led the way from the room. The sooner he could dispose of Celine the better. His spies had already reported Task Force Scorpions, TF-S, presence about a hundred kilometers from here. They would locate him soon, of that he had no doubt and he needed to see to his final preparations.

He'd trained the men on TF-S, he knew just how smart they were and that they now worked for Senator Cotter.  His lip curled at the thought. Not much longer. Once he got rid of the extra girl, he'd turn his full attention to his true plan and Cotter would fall, right along with TF-S.

He headed across the polished marble foyer, scattered with priceless Persian rugs, and up the equally impressive winding marble staircase. This was the kind of home he deserved, he always deserved. Too bad the United States government hadn't seen it that way. If they had, he would've been perfectly content in a nice three-story brownstone off Main Street in DC, instead of the little shit hole the piss ant salary he'd been allotted allowed him to purchase. Forced to drive secondhand cars and work gruesome hours, all the while covering up top-secret government intel, secrets more valuable than the government realized.

But he'd realized early on and started collecting information, and when he got enough he made his move, brokering a deal with the now dead leader of the Islamic State of Afghanistan, ISA, and catapulting himself into a life of wealth.

“Your home is very impressive,” Sven commented as Mankel turned right down a long sunlit corridor lined with sculptures.

“I'm sure your employer's is equally so,” Mankel replied. Except Dmitri Stanislov wasn't surrounded by desert. The man ruled his estate right in the heart of Russia without fear of interruption from anyone.

Mankel paused at a narrow door partially concealed behind a column and potted plant. “Please hold your questions until after your observation. I would ensure the purchase has no knowledge of the transaction so transport will be completely compliant tomorrow.”

“Of course, that is assuming I approve.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Mankel replied and eased open the small door. He led the way through the tight hall, using the track lighting along the floor and its dim glow as a guide until he saw the filtered sunlight up ahead. He stopped beside a heavily filigreed grate in the wall and gestured for Sven to peer through. The palace had been built nearly two centuries ago by the sultan known as the Iron Amir, who was known not only for his penance for war but for pleasure. He'd had large suites built for his slaves with hidden passages to spy on them. He'd never used them before now, but the set up was perfect for his current situation.

Sven peered inside the room for a few minutes and then nodded and stepped back. Mankel escorted him back out in to the hall and led him back to the library in silence. Sven resumed his perch on the sofa and Mankel sat in the matching love seat, a low 17th century coffee table set with fresh tea and cakes between them. “Well?”

“My employer usually prefers his women with longer hair, but there is no doubt she is a great beauty and will add to his collection. And her history?”

Mankel crossed his ankle over his leg and steeped his fingers. “She speaks English and French, educated through high school. Owns a small store back in the states. Her family is poor and she has little involvement with them at this time in her life. They will cause no trouble.”

Sven poured a cup of tea and took a sip from the delicate china. “Does she have a husband? Children?”

“No. She is alone.”

Sven carefully replaced the teacup and saucer, his blank expression easing. “She bruises beautifully. Dmitri will like that, but she is damaged goods. Are you certain she wasn’t penetrated?”

“No, my doctor did a full inspection. She is untarnished and clean.”

“I will have to insist on a lower price due to the…obvious injuries. It will take time to get her back to full health for her new master to enjoy fully.”

“What do you have in mind?” Mankel asked.

“One-hundred thousand American dollars.”

Mankel scoffed, settling in for the haggle. “A girl like her would easily sell for a minimum of one-hundred seventy-five.”

Sven paused, as if in thought, but Mankel could easily detect the calculating gleam in his eyes.

“One fifty.”

“Deal.” The tense muscles down Mankel's back relaxed and he gave a mental sigh of relief. Celine Latimer had been an unwelcome intrusion on his plans, but as a sex slave to a Russian aristocrat, she would cause him no trouble. And, had in fact, fattened his bank account nicely. “Perfect, I'll have her escorted to your plane in the morning.”

“No, I will meet you here.” Sven handed him a small piece of paper. “We will assume ownership of the girl at this location and you will receive payment there.”

“As you wish.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Miss Latimer, wake up. It's time to go.”

Celine stretched and cracked open an eye to see A’idah standing at her bedside, wringing her hands in front of her.

“It's okay A’idah, I'm up.” Celine felt the need to put the girl at ease, she always seemed to be looking over her shoulder but for what Celine hadn't figured out.

“I will lay out your clothes for travel while you shower. Can I bring you some coffee or juice?” A’idah stepped back from the bed and Celine sat up and swung her legs over the side.

“You don't have to bring me anything, A’idah.” Having someone at her beck and call had been nice, but now was too much. She could take care of herself, just like always. “I can take care of myself.”

“Please, allow me to serve you –”

“Go get her coffee and for heaven sake, stop simpering and pouting like a whipped dog.” Solana strode into the room like she owned it, startling A’idah, who shot Celine a fearful glance and darted from the room.

Irritation chased the last bit of sleepiness from Celine and she stood, careful not to move too fast and strain her still sore muscles. A’idah might cower to Mankel's daughter, but not Celine. “You didn't have to be so rude to her.”

“She is a slave. Not that it will be your concern any longer. Transportation will leave in an hour. I am here to see that you are bathed and dressed properly.” Solana barked out her commands from behind the blue screen of her hood. The dress, meant to hide a woman and Celine thought, keep her in her place below men, only made Solana seem scarier.

Not that Celine had any intention of backing down. “I can bathe and dress myself.”

“Please hurry, we are on a schedule.”

A’idah rushed back into the room, carrying a large gold tray and Celine bit back her retort. Instead, she spun and strode into the large luxurious bathroom, shutting the double-doors behind her and wishing for a way to lock them. But she'd discovered yesterday there was no lock.

She went to the shower and turned on the water with a sigh. She wasn't going to miss much about this place, but the bathroom, which was large enough to fit her entire apartment back home inside. The shower was completely made from glass and took up the center of the room, almost like the masterpiece. She eased the sensuously soft low cut nightgown off and stepped inside. The deep V of the gown had clearly exposed the deepening bruises on her chest, but she’d hadn’t cared. Just wearing something that felt like home had been worth having to fight to ignore the evidence of her near rape.

That thought spurred her into motion and she washed quickly. No matter how much she wanted to savor the hot water, she wanted to go home more. When she emerged, wrapped in a towel, Solana stood waiting. “I've brought your clothing for today. You must keep yourself covered from the moment you leave the room.”

Celine glanced at the blue garment laid out on the bed and cringed. “No way. Your dad brought me new clothing to wear today.” She glanced around for the fashionable jeans and blouse.

“You want to go home, then you put it on.”

“Where is your father? I need to talk to him.”

“My father has wasted enough time on you.”

“I'm not wearing that.”

“Then you won't leave this room,” Solana said and Celine got the distinct impression the girl smirked behind her mask.

“I demand to see Mr. Mankel.” Celine crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“What more do you want from him? He saved your life, you expect him to completely interrupt his schedule for your every little whim? You Americans are so full of yourself.” Solana stepped forward, her gown floating around her like a ghost.

Celine clenched her hands into fists at her sides and tried to remember this was not her home. She would be on a plane to the United States today and never have to see this horrible place or this horrible girl again. “Fine. I'll wear it. But only over my new clothes and as soon as I'm on that plane, I'm trashing it.”

Solana hovered so close to her she caught a glimpse of her wide eyes through the fine grill of material and felt the first surge of satisfaction. “Here.” Solana opened a nearby mahogany trunk, pulled out Celine’s clothing and tossed it to her.

Celine caught her jeans mid-air, grabbed the burka off the bed and marched back into the bathroom to dress.

Before she knew it she was standing before the floor length mirror staring at herself through the masked head scarf, fighting off the grips of claustrophobia.
Breathe. Just until you get on the plane.

Celine emerged from the bathroom and stood stiff while Solana walked in a slow circle around her. “Good. Follow me. Keep your eyes lowered and do not speak to anyone.”

“How would anyone know if I had my eyes lowered or not in this thing?” Celine countered.

Solana kept quiet for once and strode from the room, leaving Celine to chase after her. Caroline might already be waiting and then they'd be on their way home, together.

Solana hurried down the hall and Celine limped along behind her, catching quick flashes of tall marble statues and beautiful paintings.

“Keep up, I don't have all day.” Solana's sharp words snapped Celine back to the present. Solana turned a corner, her blue robes swishing behind her and then they were outside, surrounded by potted plants and bright tropical looking flowers. Huge fountains dotted the courtyard and a black Land Rover, like the one that brought her here, sat parked and waiting, two burly men in black suits standing guard.

“Where is Caroline?” Celine stopped a few feet away.

“She's being escorted down, get in the car.” Solana gestured to the open back door.

“I'm not getting in there without Caroline.” Everything about this morning was wrong. Mr. Mankel should have been here. Caroline should be here. Solana gestured to one of the men and Celine's chest tightened as she stumbled back a step.

“Stupid Americans always so bossy. Well you won't be for long, your new owner will see to that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You'll find out soon enough. Trent, put her in the back, but be careful not to bruise her further.”

The blond man with a scar running down his jaw crossed the distance between them so quickly she didn't have time to react. He hauled her to the car and tossed her in the back seat. Celine scrambled for the other door, but he grabbed her foot and yanked, sending her sprawling on the seat. The door in front of her opened and Solana stood there.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut, it will make your life much easier in the future. Dmitri doesn't like mouthy women.”

Celine started to shake as she realized she wasn't going to meet the senator, or even going home. “My family will find me.”

“Your family doesn't care about you. No one does.” Solana hissed and leaned down over Celine.

She felt a sharp prick in her arm, saw Solana holding a needle and her terror returned.

“Caroline.” Celine's tongue felt thick and heavy, her body hot.

“You want to see your precious Caroline?” Solana slowly lifted the veil covering her face.

Celine tried to scream but all she could do was moan and stare up helplessly into the girls face.

There was no scarred skin or even the dark hair and skin like she'd expected. No, Celine stared up at the picturesque blond beauty of Caroline Cotter.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“You ready, Ghost?” Aaron crouched behind a cluster of boulders on the west side of the road at the center of the small valley where the meet would take place. Mountains jutted up from the earth, tall and stark, marking the start of the Hindukush Mountain range at the border of the desert. 

“I'm ready.” Ghost lifted his binoculars and swept the south region where the caravan should be arriving. “Crow's nest, ready?”

“Roger,” Hoyt said through the comm. He and Jared had set up directly above Aaron and Ghost on the first over watch position.

“Charlie, ready?” Ghost asked.

“Roger, the B&B is up and running.” Beatle and Blade from Delta Force had set up on the hill top across the road for second over watch.

Hollywood and Fletch were positioned on the east side of the road behind some thick shrubs and rocks. “Check.”

“Got movement. Two tangos approaching from the south, one klick out.” Cord Carter's voice came through their secure communication line. He was with the rest of TF-S at the south entrance to the valley, ready to fall in behind the cars carrying the girls coming up from the south.

“We got three coming from up top. Half a klick.” Aaron recognized Truck's deep voice, the man aptly named. “Three men per vehicle. They're armed.” Coach and Riser were with Truck, ready to cut off any vehicle trying to make a run when the shit went down.

Their goal was simple, get Celine and Caroline out unharmed from an unknown number of enemy combatants on a mission they'd only had hours to plan.

“The Russian's made the party,” Truck said.

A few seconds later a line of white SUV's entered the valley from the north and parked about fifty meters from center. Aaron didn't need his binoculars this close to see loaded vehicles. “Crow, you got a bead?”

“Roger.”

“South SUV's breaching. Ready. Four men in the first vehicle, two in the next. No sign of the targets,” Hunter said. Hunter, Ranger, Ethan and Cord would fall in behind as soon as they gave the signal.

This could be a trap if Mr. J knew they were in the country, he knew TF-S wouldn't let him harm Celine or Caroline. On the heels of that thought, came another - just because they couldn't see the girls sitting up in the vehicles didn't mean they weren't there. If Mr. J had wanted easy transport, two unconscious bodies were a lot easier to handle. “Need to be ready for carry out.”

The second vehicle parked fifty meters from center, almost directly in front of Aaron. He searched the windows of the black SUVs for any sign of the girls.

“She's in there, my intel was right. Trust me,” Ghost said.

How the hell was he supposed to trust anyone with Celine's life?

Aaron forced himself to relax, got his heart rate under control and focused on the man getting out of the white SUV on the right. “We got a briefcase.”

The man was typical for security – big, broad shoulders, black suit and black sunglasses. Two pistols poking out of his open jacket in brown leather holsters.

The team had set up in a wide circle all the way around the meeting place, no one was getting in or out without their permission. The man held up his briefcase and approached the black vehicles with his arms raised and stopped halfway between the SUVs. A few seconds later, the four men in the first vehicle from Mr. J’s caravan got out and approached. What followed next was standard operating procedure for black market deals. The suitcase guy showed the cash, the other man inspected it and gestured to his crew.

“On my signal,” Ghost said.

The front doors of the second black SUV opened, an armed guard on each side. The driver went to the back and opened the door.

“The girls must be in the last SUV.” Aaron's gaze locked on that open door, cursing that he was on the passenger side and couldn't see directly in the vehicle. “Fletch?”

“Got one female. She's gonna need a carry out.”

Fuck. Aaron's gut clenched down tight. Was it Celine? Was she okay?

The guard leaned down into the vehicle.

“Easy, man,” Ghost muttered. “B&B, you ready?”

The thought of what she'd been through, what they could've done to her...Aaron rubbed his burning chest, feeling the hollow ache like someone had drilled out his heart.

“On my count,” Beatle said. “One. Two. Three.”

Two bullets whizzed through the air, their loud boom muffled by silencers and the two men closest to the girl fell.

Aaron jumped to his feet and took off at a full out sprint for the men surrounding the SUVs, Ghost pounding it out behind him. The Russians vehicles roared to life and slammed into reverse. Two more shots pinged into their windshields and the vehicles rolled to a stop.

Aaron honed in on the back SUV. The passenger lifted his pistol and Aaron fired off three rounds, still running. The passenger slumped to his knees and hit the dirt.

“Get her, I'll hold them off,” Ghost shouted and made a right toward the front SUV.

The driver glanced behind him and saw Hollywood, Fletch and Merc running in his direction. Aaron knew the minute the man realized his doom. The driver dove through the open back seat and came out on the other side, yanking the unconscious girl with him.

Rage erupted like a volcano at the sight of the other man touching her. Aaron exploded forward reaching the vehicle in ten pounding footsteps. The man frantically tried to pull the girl out of the car and sling her over his shoulder.

Aaron transferred his pistol to his left hand, yanked his knife out with his right, running full force. The guard straightened and Aaron embedded his knife to the hilt in his throat.

The guard dropped, grabbing at his throat and gurgling. Aaron snatched the girl from his shoulder before she hit the ground.