“We need to get our hands on one of those iPads if we can,” Misty whispered. “With all that information on there, it’s almost a certainty they’re connected to a central server of some kind. If I can get in there, I could get everything we need on these people.”
Harley nodded. She’d watched Misty merge with a computer before and while it was amazing to see, it was also more than a little disconcerting.
“Misty and I made it through another checkpoint up top,” Harley said softly into her radio, then quickly explained about Seamus and Brielle before telling them about Misty’s idea.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jake replied. “But be careful. And stay away from Brielle. We have no reason to think she knows you’re both supernaturals, but let’s not give her a reason to suspect you.”
“We’ll be searching for where the captives and the monks are being held,” Sawyer added. “I’ll also find a place to stash your weapons.”
Harley didn’t respond to his comment about the weapons, mostly because she was too focused on how good it felt to hear his voice. A weight she hadn’t known was there lifted off her chest, making breathing a bit easier now.
The large room she and Misty stepped into was the quintessential image of what Harley expected a medieval monastery to look like, right down to the beautiful wall murals, soaring ceilings, and rough flagstone floors. She supposed it was the main chapel, though it was difficult to tell for sure since there wasn’t any sign of all the usual religious items that’d almost certainly been there before Boc took over. All that remained now was a large rectangular space with a raised dais at one end along with several dozen tallboy cocktail tables draped in black fabric here and there. Longer banquet tables on either side of the room held a buffet of assorted food and beverages that smelled delicious. And expensive.
The murmur of conversation grew louder in the room as more people began to fill the space. Harley glanced around to see Forrest and Erin casually chatting with Mr. Caron and several other well-dressed excuses for human beings. Everyone knew what was about to happen in here in a few minutes and no one seemed to care. They merely drank their expensive champagne and ate their dainty hors d’oeuvres.
“I’m going to see if I can find one of those iPads,” Misty whispered, drifting away to disappear down a side corridor.
Harley pasted a smile on her face as two middle-aged women dripping in jewelry came over to chat. Her Spanish accent wasn’t the best, so she had to be careful not to slip up. It was hard making nice with a group of people who got enjoyment from purchasing a supernatural creature. She couldn’t help wondering what they’d say if they knew she was a werewolf. Would they scream and run away or demand to be allowed to bid on her?
“We found the captives and the monks,” Sawyer announced softly over the radio in her ear. “They’re being held in the dormitory area, but there are too many guards around for us to free them without starting a major firefight. We’re going to have to stick with the plan and try to rescue them as they’re being moved off the mountain.”
Crap.
“Adriana and I are topside now,” Elliot reported, interrupting whatever else Sawyer might have been about to say. “They’re calling for some of the guards to help move the captives, so I think the auction is about to start.”
A few minutes later, Harley saw several guards, including Sawyer, slip into the room and take up positions along the outer perimeter of the space. A tremor of concern slid down her back at the sight of all the tactical gear they wore and their expressionless demeanor. While the buyers in the room obviously assumed the men were here for their protection, something told her, once the shooting started, the guards would gladly shoot every rich snob in the place to stop her and her teammates.
She casually glanced at Sawyer, noticing he kept to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. To anyone else, it would seem like he was completely focused on the area he was guarding, but Harley knew he was taking everything in—marking the location of each threat, the number of windows and doors, and the complete lack of cover the room provided if this turned into a firefight. Which it almost certainly would at some point.
“Weapons are in the bottom of an empty trash can in the storage room near the restrooms,” Sawyer murmured over the radio.
He was good. She didn’t even see his lips move.
Harley wandered over to the buffet to help herself to some hors d’oeuvres. Tiny plate in hand, she nibbled on a canapé as she strolled around the room admiring the murals on the wall. When she reached the corridor near where Sawyer stood guard, she casually set the empty plate on a nearby serving tray, then headed down the hall toward the restrooms. Slipping into the storage closet, she quickly grabbed her small-frame Glock and backup magazine, tucking them into the holsters attached to the waistband at the back of her tailored pantsuit. Unlike at the club in Paris, she and Misty—along with Erin—had opted for slacks on this rescue mission, instead of dresses and high heels. When things got crazy tonight, they wanted to able to move quickly.
Peeking out the door to make sure no one had seen her, Harley walked back into the main room, taking a glass of champagne from the tray a nearby server offered as Erin passed by and walked down the same hallway to get her weapon. A few moments later, Forrest
