Page 52 of Silence and Surrender

Chapter Twenty-Two

Colton

The cellars beneath the Mayfair Hotel hadn’t seen legitimate wine storage in decades. Now they housed a different kind of commodity exchange, one that made my skin crawl despite years of corporate law desensitizing me to human greed. The vaulted chambers had been converted into a series of elegant viewing rooms, with white-gloved waiters circulating among Europe’s upper-class as if this were just another Sotheby’s auction.

I checked my earpiece discreetly. Steele’s voice came through, clear and tense. “I’ve hacked into their surveillance system. Seven exits total. Main stairs, service corridor, three maintenance tunnels that haven’t been used since the war, and two newer escape routes installed by our gracious hosts.” He was monitoring remotely from a secure location, coordinating our extraction while I worked the inside with Isabella. “They’re organized. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“Your contacts got us in,” I murmured, accepting a glass of scotch from a passing waiter, using the movement to scan the room again. “Without you—”

“Without me, my family stays safe.” The mention of Ashlynn and their daughter made his voice tighten. But he didn’t abandon us. Couldn’t, when we needed his expertise. “Just...watch her. These people, they’re not like the collectors I used to steal from. They don’t just want things. They want power.”

I tracked Isabella’s movement through the crowd, her form-fitting eggplant dress made my hands itch to touch her again. She played her role perfectly—the bored art expert accompanying a potential buyer, letting the other bidders dismiss her as mere decoration while she gathered intelligence.

“Your girl’s good,” Steele said through the earpiece. “Knows exactly how to make them underestimate her.”

“She’s not my—” But the protest died as she glanced my way. Even across the room, I could feel the heat of her stare. Could still taste her on my lips from that desperate encounter in the library we hadn’t talked about yet.

“Right.” Steele’s condescending tone made me want to crush the earpiece. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Watching Isabella work the room tonight, remembering how she’d felt in my arms...my defenses were crumbling despite my best efforts.

“The next lot will be of particular interest,” the auctioneer announced. “A recently acquired collection from Eastern Europe.” The code was easy to decipher; this was merchandise that should never be sold.

Isabella drifted closer to the stage, every movement calculated to draw attention while she observed. The dress accentuated her cleavage in a way that made my mouth go dry, but it was the fierce intelligence in her eyes that truly captivated me. Even here, surrounded by monsters, she burned with purpose.

“Incoming,” Steele warned in my ear. “Your ten o’clock. Rodger brought friends.”

I turned slightly, catching Rodger Ross’s entrance in my peripheral vision. He wore his usual suit and crooked smile, but the men flanking him, their eyes sweeping the room, weren’t any that I recognized.

“Not bank security,” I noted quietly.

“Private contractors.” Steele’s voice was grim. “Probably ex-Spetsnaz.”

Perfect. Just what we needed, Russian special forces alumni providing security for our corrupt board member.

Isabella appeared at my elbow, her hand sliding up my arm in a gesture that looked intimate to observers but let her whisper: “The manifests on display, they’re not just from Devereux. I recognize documentation styles from at least three other major banks.”

Her soft perfume filled my senses, making it hard to focus. This close, I could see where the dress dipped low on her back, revealing skin I’d touched in the Ashworth library. Could feel the heat of her through my suit jacket.

“How many banks?” I asked, relaying the question from Steele through my earpiece.

“At least six.” Isabella’s fingers tightened on my arm. “All top-tier financial institutions. The shipping routes, the paperwork—they’re all using the same system. The same cover.”

The implications hit like a physical blow. This wasn’t just one bank’s corruption. This was an entire network of financial institutions, all facilitating human trafficking.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The auctioneer’s voice cut through my racing thoughts. “Our next lot requires special clearance. Please have your credentials ready.”

Isabella’s hand slid down to grip mine. “The documentation room. While everyone’s distracted.”

She was right, this was our chance to gather proof while attention was focused elsewhere. But the thought of her anywhere near those files, those records of horror…

“I’ll go,” I said quietly. “You can—”

“I’m the art expert, remember?” she finished. “I still need to access those records.”

She was right, damn her. But letting her walk into danger went against every protective instinct I’d developed.

“Five minutes,” Steele instructed through the earpiece. “My team will create a distraction if you’re not back by then. But the moment either of you senses something wrong, get out.”

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