O-Dark-Hundred Page 2

  “Because you were,” Beck insisted then snorted a soft laugh and gave him a mocking look. “Come on, Holden. Monroe and Jackie had a thing once upon a time before you came into the picture. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”

  Holden glared at Beck. “Gee, thanks for reminding me of that little fact. I’d nearly forgotten.” He looked out the windshield. “For the record, I’d like to be paired up with Gil next time. I prefer sitting in total silence to this.”

  Beck touched his ear and listened through his hidden ear transmitter. “Ross is sending the guys in now.”

  “Why don’t I have one of those?” Holden asked. “I hate hearing only half the conversation.”

  Beck groaned softly and eyed Holden. “For the same reason you’re never paired with Jackie,” he announced. “One little misspoken word, and you’ll be running in getting us all shot while trying to save your wife who doesn’t need saving.”

  “I have no idea why she likes hanging out with any of you,” Holden retorted.

  “Yeah, we said the same thing when she married you.”

  Holden glared at Beck.

  Chapter Three

  Within the estate grounds on the other side of the stone wall, a security guard patrolled the area. He passed a large tree towering over the wall from the opposite side. Zack dropped from one of the branches and softly landed on top of the stone wall in a crouched position. He wore his black combat fatigues, or his stalking outfit, as he fondly referred to them, which allowed him to blend into the night. He stared across the estate grounds and studied the distance to the mansion.

  “Another guard at two o’clock,” a female voice announced from within the tree.

  “Yeah, I see him,” Zack muttered softly.

  “I thought you staked out this place,” the female voice scolded.

  “I did,” he replied. “There’s a little more activity tonight. Something must be happening.”

  Zack climbed back into the tree with little effort and straddled one of the larger branches alongside a young woman dressed in her finest prowling outfit, which revealed her toned, athletic body. Jackie Falcone was an attractive woman in her mid-twenties with her long, dark hair worn in a ponytail, as it usually was when she anticipated combat. She watched Zack while he studied the guard passing by their hideaway. Although he was nearly impossible to read, Jackie loved trying to figure out Zack’s devious mind. Once the guard was out of earshot, she became curious.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked while watching him as he studied the estate grounds.

  “We have four guards patrolling the front grounds,” he announced in a serious tone. “Our entrance is that second-floor balcony, which should be a bedroom.” He didn’t bother looking at her and wiggled his fingers as if anticipating her to hand him something. “Give me your bra.”

  Jackie stared at Zack with her mouth hanging open. “Pardon me?”

  “Your bra,” he reconfirmed and cast a look at her. “I need it.”

  “I’m not giving you my bra,” she firmly insisted. “There’s something seriously messed up with your mind if you actually think I’d ever give it to you.”

  He gave her a quick, disapproving once-over. “That’s it,” Zack snarled. “No more girls in my treehouse.”

  She groaned with annoyance then proceeded to unhook her bra and slip it out through her shirtsleeves without exposing any skin. Zack eyed her then the black lacy bra in her hand with moderate disappointment. She glared back sharply.

  “Were you expecting a free show?” she demanded.

  “No, I bet Monroe ten bucks you were wearing the red one,” he remarked. “I’m out ten bucks.”

  She rolled her eyes and groaned while casting the bra into his face. He easily caught it but seemed pleased with the projectile nearly hitting him.

  “Hmm,” he cooed. “Satin and lace. Nice.”

  “I’d better get it back too,” she snarled.

  He eyed her then laughed softly. “Good luck with that.”

  The same guard passed the tree a few minutes later. He stopped and stared at the bra on the ground near the base of the wall. The guard hesitantly picked it up, ran his thumb across the lace, and then glanced up the tree. Zack somersaulted from the tree branch, wrapping his legs around the man’s neck, and tossed him through the air before riding him to the ground. As Zack straightened, a second guard ran toward him with his shotgun aimed.

  “On the ground,” the guard shouted as he got within a few feet of Zack.

  Zack casually raised his hands in the air then dropped to one knee. Jackie flipped from the tree and kicked the man in the chest with both feet, sending him flying several feet through the air. Zack casually picked up Jackie’s bra and stuffed it into the leg pocket of his combat pants. He eyed Jackie with little reaction.

  “That was okay,” he critiqued her performance, “but if you’d take up gymnastics--”

  “Don’t start with that,” she snarled.

  “We’d better get these two out of sight,” he announced and grabbed the man closest to him beneath the arms.

  †

  The large kitchen bustled with cooks and wait staff preparing buffet style food for their guests. A tall, well-built man in his late thirties or possibly his early forties slipped into the kitchen through the rear door, leaving it partially open. Gil Rafferty was a ruggedly handsome man with short dark hair peppered with gray, giving him a slightly distinguished look. The seriousness on his face made him hard to read as he surveyed the busy kitchen then proceeded on his journey. He didn’t slow or hesitate while passing through, snagging a tray of puffy pastries on his way, and followed another server through the ‘out’ door to the banquet room. Gil entered the informal banquet room, which was set up more like a lounge, and immediately set his tray on the nearby buffet table as he passed. He slipped into the crowd and easily blended within his expensive suit.

  There were at least one hundred well-dressed guests, mostly men, socializing within the informal room. Approximately two dozen exceedingly gorgeous women in revealing dresses held drinks in their hands and seemed to ‘work’ the room. Their matching beauty and expensive attire were no coincidence. The women were high-priced escorts available for the men’s entertainment. They flirted with nearly every man no matter how unattractive. The men put their hands on the women and even caressed their backsides without protest. Gil caught several glimpses of the working girls spreading the joy and raised his brows. He crossed the room, making eye contact with one or two of the working women, and offered an obligatory smile to keep appearances. He didn’t stop long enough to allow them time to cozy up to him.

  Ross stood in the center of the room with a glass of scotch in one hand and a sexy woman hanging off his free arm. It was obvious she initiated, forcing Ross to play along for appearances. Despite her obvious interest, he minded his hands. Ross had a moderately temperamental girlfriend back home, who wouldn’t approve even for the sake of a mission. Ross met Gil’s gaze from across the room. There was no secret signal, yet their eyes spoke volumes. Gil continued through the banquet hall and slipped through the side door when no one was looking. Once in the hallway, Gil kept watch for anyone passing through. He didn’t notice any cameras, at least none conspicuously located, and headed for the stairs. He passed an affectionate woman clinging to a sleazy looking man on their return trip from the second floor, which offered ‘privacy’ rooms.

  As he walked along the second-floor hallway, he heard the faint sounds of women faking screams of pleasure through the doors on both sides of the hall. It was reminiscing of an old western brothel. Gil listened intently as he passed, seeking sounds that were somehow different from those common for the brothel atmosphere. A set of doors at the end of the hall caught his attention. They led into the west wing of the mansion with a sign clearly marked ‘off limits’. He continued toward the doors with a faster, determined walk. That was what he was looking for. Gil entered the west wing, purposely leaving the door ajar, and h
urried along the corridor, listening for any sounds coming from closed bedroom doors.

  “This wing is off-limits to guests,” a gruff voice informed him.

  Gil stopped in his tracks and turned to face one of the mansion guards. As with all the mansion guards, he was a large, burly guy. Each guard was muscular and stood over six-foot tall. It was slightly amusing since tall and muscular didn’t necessarily mean lethal. Zack was the perfect example with his little protégé Jackie coming in a close second.

  “Sorry,” Gil announced showing little reaction. “I must’ve made a wrong turn.”

  He attempted to walk past the guard. The guard caught him by the arm and stopped him. Gil didn’t react, although he did eye the hand gripping his arm.

  “You’re not a guest, are you?” the guard demanded. “Show me your ID card.”

  “Oh,” Gil replied and hesitated only a moment before patting down his pockets. He smiled innocently. “I must have left it in one of the rooms while I was, you know,” he announced while grinning, “dressing.”

  The guard placed his hand on Gil’s shoulder and kept him from advancing down the corridor. “You weren’t in any of the rooms,” he announced. “It’s my job to know who’s in what room and with which girl.” The guard reached for his ear transmitter.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Gil announced with little reaction.

  The guard glared at him. “Oh, you wouldn’t, huh? Maybe I should just kick your ass around the mansion.”

  “Well, you could try,” Gil casually replied, “but I doubt you’d be successful. I’m guessing I have ten years on you, but I can tell you’re a little soft in the middle.”

  “Now I am going to kick your ass,” the guard snarled and made tight fists.

  Gil saw a shadow move in the nearby corridor. A tiny smirk crossed his face. “I think my partner may have something to say about that.”

  The guard caught Gil’s glance toward the corridor behind him and saw the shadow of someone rounding the corner. The guard whipped out a nightstick and struck the man as he appeared around the corner. Another mansion guard took the hard hit and collapsed to the floor.

  Gil laughed softly. “I think you just laid out your own man,” he announced with humor.

  The guard kept an eye on Gil while attempting to assess the condition of the guard he’d just knocked out.

  “My partner is behind you,” Gil informed him while smiling slyly.

  “Do you really expect me to buy that--?”

  There was a snarl directly behind the guard. He whirled around. A silver sable German shepherd dog leaped upward and grabbed the guard by his arm, keeping him from swinging with the nightstick. Darth snarled while tearing into the shirt and flesh of the guard’s lower arm. Gil punched the man in the face, instantly dropping him. Darth leaped out of the path of the falling man then licked his bloodied muzzle and panted happily at Gil.

  “We’d better tie up those two and hide them,” Gil announced to the dog. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to find that missing girl, and we don’t need any unnecessary distractions.”

  Darth woofed in response while wagging his tail. Gil affectionately scratched the dog’s scruff then proceeded with the mission.

  Chapter Four

  The second-floor bedroom on the east wing was mostly dark, revealing little of the expensive furniture. Monroe stood alongside the door just inside the darkened room and listened to footfalls passing in the hallway. Another man stood on the opposite side of the door and watched Monroe for his signal. Bogart was a well-built man in his late twenties. He was ‘hunky actor’ handsome with flowing golden-brown hair and sideburns nearly a shade darker. As a former conman, being handsome and charming were his biggest assets. There were times his charm was the only thing he brought to the team. When the footfalls passed the room, both men relaxed their stance.

  Monroe tapped his ear transmitter and spoke casually. “We have a lot of security on the east wing second-floor,” he announced in a soft tone. “Seems as if they’re keeping watch over something. It could be our girl.”

  A voice came over both their ear transmitters. “Yeah, I’m on west wing second-floor,” Gil informed them. “Darth and I are coming up with nothing. Only one guard and he’s taking a little nap right now.”

  “Zack and I are on second in the main building,” Jackie’s voice came over their ear transmitters.

  “Lots of beds squeaking,” Zack’s voice chimed in as well. “Other than some foul language and fake orgasms, we’ve got nothing.”

  “Thanks for the colorful update, Zack,” Beck’s voice was heard over their ear transmitters.

  “Converge on second-floor east to assist Monroe and Bogart,” came Ross’s soft but commanding voice over their transmitters. “Kirk, if you copy, bring the van to the staff entrance on the east wing and wait for my signal.”

  There was no response, but it was possible Kirk was in mixed company within the garage and was unable to respond. Monroe and Bogart exchanged looks, nodded, and then silently slipped into the second-floor corridor. They each took a side of the hallway and listened at the doors. None offered much. It was unusually quiet. Bogart suddenly stopped and listened to the soft singing from a little girl. He snapped his fingers, getting Monroe’s attention, and indicated the door with a nod. Monroe joined him on his side of the hall then gently tapped on the door.

  “Arianna?” Monroe announced softly through the door. “May I come in?”

  There was silence as the singing stopped to the sound of his voice. Monroe and Bogart exchanged looks. Bogart shrugged. Neither was exactly great with kids. Monroe was about to tap on the door again when it unlocked. The door opened to reveal a five-year-old girl. She was a beautiful little girl with long black hair. Arianna stared at them with wide, dark eyes.

  “Did my daddy send you?” she asked while eyeing each man with some apprehension. “Are we going to see him?”

  “Actually,” Monroe announced. “Your mother sent us. She wants us to bring you home to her.”

  The girl’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Mommy? Is she back from her trip?”

  Bogart and Monroe again exchanged looks. Bogart sneered his disgust.

  Monroe managed a childlike smile while lowering himself to her level and nodded. “Yes, your mommy is back, and she wants you to come home right away,” he replied.

  Arianna became excited at the news. “I’ll get my dolly,” she exclaimed and ran back into the room.

  Monroe and Bogart followed her into the room, gently closing the door behind them. The room decorated lavishly for a little girl had every toy imaginable. Arianna removed an old, worn doll from the bed then joined them by the door. They were about to leave when she hesitated and gave them a concerned look.

  “What about Mimi?” the little girl asked.

  Both men eyed her with puzzled looks.

  “Who’s Mimi?” Bogart asked.

  “She’s my friend,” Arianna replied. “I’m not supposed to go downstairs, but I sneak down there to play with her in the morning when everyone is asleep.”

  “Downstairs?” Monroe asked. “Is she one of the servant’s little girls?”

  “I guess so,” she replied. “Can she come along? I hate to leave her.”

  Monroe and Bogart again exchanged looks and groaned with defeat. “Why don’t we stop by her room on the way out, so you can tell her you’re going away for a while?”

  “Okay,” the little girl replied, satisfied with the response.

  Monroe tapped his ear transmitter. “We have the kid. We’re taking the back stairs toward the servant’s quarters. We should be out back in fifteen minutes.”

  “Everyone to the staff wing,” Ross announced over their ear transmitters. “I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs, Monroe.”

  “Roger.”

  †

  Monroe entered the staff wing corridor from the back stairway with the little girl and Bogart in tow. Arianna clung to Bogart’s
hand as if he were a longtime friend. He almost resembled a proud father while walking alongside her. Ross approached from the kitchen area to join them. Monroe turned down the staff wing corridor, but the little girl suddenly pulled Bogart in the opposite direction.

  “No, it’s this way,” she insisted.

  Bogart eyed Ross and Monroe, uncertain how to respond to the little girl’s insistence.

  Ross appeared puzzled. “Should I ask?”

  “She wants to say goodbye to her friend,” Monroe announced under his breath.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Ross remarked firmly then watched the little girl practically dragging Bogart behind her. Her insistence was curious.

  When Arianna stopped before the basement door, all three men were puzzled. Ross stared at the basement stairs then turned off his ear transmitter. Monroe followed suit. Bogart saw them and immediately turned off his as well, although he didn’t seem to understand the reasoning behind it.

  “What’s wrong?” Bogart asked.

  “Let’s meet this friend of hers,” Ross muttered with noted concern in his voice.

  Ross led the way down the stairs, removing his semiautomatic for the first time. Bogart and Arianna went next with Monroe bringing up the rear. He also removed his semiautomatic from his hidden shoulder holster. Something seemed wrong and all three men sensed it. They reached the bottom, where the little girl indicated a locked door. Ross studied the lock and reached for his small toolkit, but the little girl was already punching numbers into the keypad. The door electronically unlocked. Bogart held the little girl back while Ross and Monroe led the way. They entered a forty-by-forty foot room lined with cramped, dingy cells.

  “Arianna,” a little girl cried out.

  Arianna pulled away from Bogart’s hand and ran to one of the dark cells.

  “Mimi,” she cried out and hugged the six-year-old girl through the bars.

  As Ross and Monroe uncertainly looked around the dark cells, little girls between the ages of five and ten years old emerged from the darkness and gravitated toward the bars. They stared at the three men with concerned and frightened looks. Some were already in tears at the sight of the strangers. Ross, Monroe, and Bogart stared with horror at the sight.