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Rhianne nodded and Eric made himself let her go, even though he ached to fold her into his arms. “So trust me when I say everyone’s chances are better if we play along for now. We just need to get to the auction without bringing the world down on our heads.”
Rhianne sighed. Eric hated to see her stressed and unhappy, but things were what they were. “Fine. I’ll play nice and get ‘pampered’ before the auction. But I’m not going to enjoy it.”
* * *
“You gave me your word that you’d behave, remember?” Eric murmured in her ear an hour later when he said his goodbyes before the men boarded the bus. “So no sneaking off to snoop around.” His breath still jammed in his lungs at the thought of what she’d done yesterday. “Stick with the rest of the women, hmm?” He waited for her to nod as a reiteration of her promise, then finished with a kiss to her forehead.
Rhianne raised her hand in a finger wave as he stepped back…then turned her hand and flipped him the bird. He would have laughed, but just then the staff member who was collecting the women reached Rhianne and swept her into the group.
Some of the ever-present guards flanked them, and seeing women being herded along in that way had Eric’s heart thumping hard—the sight was too close to that of the young girls being brought inside the compound. He did his best to shake it off. God knew he had plenty to be paying attention to in his own situation, being loaded, along with the other male guests, back onto the minibus that had brought them to the compound.
Today, it drove them off the compound and into the mountains. The farther the bus bumped over the uneven ground, the more Eric’s alarm bells pinged. After an hour, he was on high alert.I’m armed, he reminded himself, checking that his blade was easily accessible. He wished he had a gun, but that would have been exponentially harder to hide. Still, he was very, very aware of the fact that he was on his own, surrounded by men that he absolutely did not trust. He forced himself to breathe slowly.
“Altitude, right?” Phil threw him a wry glance. “Wonder if it’s much farther?”
“We’re slowing,” Bry said, peering out of the window.
“Gentlemen, we have arrived,” announced the young male assistant accompanying them. He jumped down the bus’s steps and ushered them out, smiling when the guys exclaimed over the targets set up for shooting.
“Yee-hah! You’re right at home, huh?” Bry nudged Tom, a Texan, who snorted out a half-laugh.
Eric didn’t know what he’d been expecting, so actual, genuine target shooting was a pleasant enough surprise. A couple of Arturo’s employees wandered along the line of guests, offering suggestions to correct stance and grip.
Eric wanted to roll his eyes as it quickly became evident that most of the guests couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. They talked a big game about the weapons they owned, but Eric had no doubt that they treated them like just another set of expensive toys—played with occasionally but mostly used to show off.
“Not bad,” one of them said to him after watching Eric shoot with a .22. “These low-calibers are kids’ toys, though—I’m better with a semiautomatic.” He took up a Browning Hi-Power. “This is more like it!”
Eric could have out-shot him with his non-dominant hand, even, but was careful to make a wide spread over the target and not a tight grouping. He wanted to keep the extent of his skills to himself. He shook his head ruefully after the round. “Can’t win ’em all.”
“Phil thinks he can!” Bry called over. “Anyone wanna go up against him?”
There were no takers.
“Aw, come on!” Phil whined. “I’ll make it interesting. Say, hundred bucks a round?”
“Shouldn’t you save your money for the auction?” Bradley, the only other thirtysomething participant in the group of middle-aged men, called back. “I hear the prices can go up pretty high.”
“Don’t you worry none about me. I’ve got plenty to go around. Worry about your own wallet,” Phil told him, to whoops and whistles.
Jeez, the old guys were worse braggarts than schoolkids. “Let’s stop, rehydrate?” Eric suggested, looking over to where the assistant overseeing the event waited with bottles of water. Things seemed to be winding down, for which he was grateful. How long had they been out here? The privacy, or rather seclusion, struck him anew, and he repressed the shiver wanting to creep down his spine.
The noise of an engine had him scanning the road to see an Escalade making its way toward them. It stopped close and the driver leaped out to open the door. Eric knew immediately that it would be Arturo. He…didn’t like this.
Arturo returned the group’s greetings and shouts, waving a hand and nodding. He clicked his fingers and one of the staff members reached into the car and pulled out another passenger…with his wrists tied in front of him and a bag over his head.
“The hell?” Bradley muttered, frowning.
“Por favor, por favor!” came from under the rough hessian covering the man’s head. He fell to his knees and launched into a flood of begging.
Eric’s Spanish was far from fluent, but he knew enough to be able to tell that the man was pleading for his life. Arturo raised his chin in a signal, and a guard kicked the guy in the middle of his back, laying him out flat on the ground and silencing him.
“Good morning.” Arturo looked around the silent huddle of guests, his tone as pleasant as if he was greeting them over brunch. He jerked a thumb at the man on the ground. “This man has betrayed me.”
“Arturo—” Phil started to say, but Arturo’s upraised hand stopped him dead.
“I don’t like being betrayed.” Arturo spat out the words through gritted teeth. “I want you all to know that. Toseethat. To see what happens to those who betray my organization.” He pinned them one by one with his dark-eyed gaze.
“Levantarse!” he yelled at the man on the ground, who stumbled to his feet as directed. “Now, you all have had target practice, so it’s only fair to give my personal guards some too, no? But my men are well trained, you see. They need a bit more of a challenge than a stationary target. It is more fun this way, yes?”
