Page 33 of Protecting Lanie

She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. He knew what this cost her. He knew how much she hated feeling powerless. But this wasn’t about control. This was about keeping her alive. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lanie exhaled and gave a single nod.

Archer leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "Good girl."

She shivered.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Go. Now."

Lanie hesitated one last time, then turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Archer didn’t move. Didn’t breathe until he saw Logan guiding her out of the ballroom, her green dress vanishing through the exit.

Only then did he let himself focus on the rage clawing at his insides.

He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his cuffs, then turned toward the VIP stairs.

It was time to end this.

Archer looked around the room. The team was moving into position. They’d have to do this quietly, as there were too many civilians. They might be sleezebags, but they were still civilians. He watched as the team made their way up the stairs one-by-one and moved beyond the velvet curtains, which effectively blocked them from view.

Molina was here, but if he stuck to his tried-and-true MO, it wouldn’t be for long. He was a slimy weasel and seemed able to slip away from things with an almost uncanny ease.

Reyna’s voice buzzed in his earpiece. “We’re in position. I’m in position if things get dicey and the others have already positioned themselves inside. Molina’s in the big room at the end of the hallway. Looks like another ballroom. Double doors. Four armed goons. Silencers. Watch your six.”

Archer moved beyond the velvet rope and up the stairs.

“Sir?” a man called from the main floor. “That’s a restricted area.”

“Shit,” Reyna whispered in his ear.

“I understand that,” Archer said in an English accent. “I was told by Mr. Molina he had some choice merchandise available. I flew in from London, but if it’s restricted, I can call my pilot to ready the plane and you can tell Mr. Molina why I wasn’t in attendance.”

“Damn you’re good,” chuckled Reyna softly in his ear. “And the accent is spot on. You sound just like Nigel at Baker Street.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were here at Mr. Molina’s invitation. Please proceed, and my apologies.”

“None necessary. You were just doing your job.”

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Archer continued up the stairs. With Reyna in position to take out anyone who needed taking out, Archer slipped into the VIP auction. The air inside was thick with expensive cologne, sweat, and something darker—the quiet hum of power, of danger. Archer could smell it, feel it in the calculated way the bidders lounged in their chairs, glasses of high-end whiskey in hand, their gazes fixed on the three terrified women standing on the small platform at the front of the room.

They dressed the girls in underbust corsets, cinched tightly to expose and show off their breasts, and the most minuscule thongs he’d ever seen. The outfits left nothing to the imagination of the leering buyers. The girls’ wrists were bound with delicate silk ribbons meant to make the whole thing look like some depraved game. Archer’s stomach burned with barely leashed rage. No doubt this was what he’d wanted to do to Lanie.

Molina was standing at the far end of the room, speaking with one of his buyers, his back partially turned. He was cocky. Too comfortable. He thought he was untouchable.

Archer was about to change that. Archer flexed his fingers, signaling Kane, Logan, and the two other Cerberus operatives to move. Guns were out of the question—too many civilians in the room, the victims and everyone downstairs. Too many lives at risk. So, they’d do this the old-fashioned way.

Archer took the lead, stepping away from the doors with the kind of presence that made people look twice. The conversations in the room faltered, eyes turning toward him as he strode forward, masked, dressed like a buyer.

Molina’s head lifted, and for a split second, their gazes locked.

Recognition flickered.

Then all hell broke loose. The men who had been so comfortable lounging in their seats, ogling the women, ran for the exit.

“They’re headed for the stairway…” said Reyna.

“Hold your fire. Let them go.”

Archer knew one of the team had taken pictures of all those present. Cerberus’ facial recognition program would give them names to go with the faces and they could round them up later. Getting the girls to safety was their priority and catching Molina was a close second.

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