Page 25 of SEAL's Fake Girlfriend

It wasn’t a question that required an answer, and no one offered one. The four guards with Arturo took out their Glocks and readied them.

“Correr!” Arturo shouted at the hooded man.Run.

Before Eric, or any of them, could say or do anything—could intervene or object—the man was up and moving, taking a few tentative steps, staggering and slipping on the rough ground.

He only managed to make it a few paces before the bullets the guards pumped into him killed him where he stood. A collective gasp rocked through all of the guests. They were all big talkers, acting like tough guys, but none of them had experienced the shock of death so close. Eric arranged his face to mirror the other men standing near him, to cover for the fact that he was intimately acquainted with what they’d just witnessed.

With a nod, Arturo got back into his SUV, his guards following, and was driven away.

In total silence, Eric and the rest of the guests made their way to the bus to be taken back to the compound…the dead body left on the ground where it had fallen.

13

What kind of woman has time for this pampering?Rhianne wondered savagely. Seriously, who, in an average week, had the time, money, and patience to invest in such intensive grooming? Rhianne liked to think she took good care of herself. She had regular waxing appointments for her legs, and visiting her hairdresser for the occasional trim—when she wasn’t too busy—but all this!

She didn’t know what half of it was. Eyebrows, for instance. The “brow esthetician” here offered a choice between microblading, extensions, and lamination. Even after Juanita’s explanations, in both English and Spanish, Rhianne wasn’t that much the wiser. She kept her eyebrows as they were, thank you very much. For eyelashes, they had the options of tinting, lifts, and extensions. Rhianne could work out what a tint was, but lifts and extensions were things she did in the gym. Where she wished she was now, burning off some of her frustration.

She looked down at herself. If anyone from San Diego Sheriff’s Department could see her like this, wrapped in mylar bandages like a mummy, they’d assume she’d been injured in the course of a search and rescue operation. But apparently, following a detoxifying body scrub, an exfoliating wrap was required.

“Oh, thank God.” She sighed as Ava came back into her cubicle to finally release her.

“I’m sorry?” the young woman asked.

“I said I bet I look good,” Rhianne lied. None of this was the young beautician’s fault. She probably didn’t want to be here anymore than Rhianne did. She’d tried getting into conversation with the spa treatment women, wanting to find out what they knew and worried that they, too, might have been trafficked or compelled to work for Arturo by some other means, but they’d all given careful, bland, obviously prepared answers that gave away nothing.

“You do!” Ava clapped when she unveiled Rhianne. “With all the dead cells lifted—”

“—I get a smoother complexion and a flattering glow. Yes, I know.” The marketing spiel was one thing the estheticians hadn’t been tight-lipped about, and Rhianne could parrot it easily.

She sighed. These girls wouldn’t talk—and they probably had nothing to reveal anyway—so she had to cast her net elsewhere. “What was it you suggested? That we should finish off around the pool with a light massage?”

“Oh yes!” Ava’s enthusiasm made Rhianne tired. “I will take you and help you chose the best oil to complement your wrap and relax you.”

Oh God, was she going to make Rhianne sniff more bottles, all of which smelled the same to her, and discuss the merits of each? Grimly resigned, Rhianne let Ava lead her from the room out to the courtyard where the mixer had been held that first evening and settle her on a lounger beside the pool.

“Just the basic oil, please,” Rhianne begged the masseuse. She almost jumped when the young guy began on her shoulders, his touch was so light. She’d had deep tissue work done before, for strains and injuries, but never a recreational massage.

It would have been relaxing, the man’s long, even sweeps designed to ease away muscle tension, but the company she was in had her on edge, especially when, lying flat not to draw their attention, she strained to hear what the small group of Kandi, Kimberly, Danielle, and Becki were discussing in low voices. Her heart jolted when the subject turned to the auction and the type of girls they were hoping to “get.”

Rhianne’s stomach turned, and she had to swallow down bile when Sasha and Danielle sauntered over, Sasha still in a face mask, to the others’ amusement…and the conversation switched to what their husbands and significant others were planning to do with the women they’d acquire. Some of the women were repeat customers and shared stories of how things had gone with prior purchases. Rhianne gulped in deep breaths to make sure she didn’t retch, but forced herself to listen, trying to gather as much intel as possible. She comforted herself by thinking about how she’d make each and every one of these evil, greedy, soulless monsters pay.

“Leandra!” Danielle called, waving over another woman who was emerging from the house. This newcomer had on more jewelry with her bikini than Rhianne would have thought possible. She jingled and gleamed in the sun as she strolled to the group. Rhianne recognized her as the redhead who had accosted Eric the other night.

“Howdy!” she greeted them, her voice loud and her Texan twang proud. “What’re y’all chattin’ about?”

“What we’re looking for in the ‘help,’” Kandi replied with a giggle. “You know what you’re after, right?”

“Not my first time at the rodeo, sure,” Leandra agreed, making them groan. She grinned. “Tom has specific itches I’m fine with him gettin’ scratched…by someone else. Someone who won’t go blabbin’ or lookin’ to shake us down over it, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Boy, do I.” Sasha sighed. “But for us, it’s about home care. Bry’s dad is old, and he’s totally lost it—but, like, not enough to stop talking; just enough to go around saying stuff he should damn well keep to himself. If we hired a nurse, Lord only knows what family secrets he’d go blabbing to her. We need more security than that. And if Bry gets to have some fun, too, then I don’t see anything wrong with that. No reason why he should come pawing atmewhen he comes home wasted after a night out with his buddies, you know?”

Rhianne couldn’t catch what Sasha said next in a lowered tone. She shifted, trying to hear…and in doing so, caught the women’s attention.

“Who’s that all by her lonesome there?” Leandra called out. “Come over and join the party, honey.”

Rhianne had no choice but to do as asked. Being mid-massage was no excuse—the guy could easily work on her wherever she lay. With a fake smile, she dismissed him and walked over, wrapping her robe tightly about her. The other women were in the skimpiest of bikinis and a couple were topless, but Rhianne felt in need of all the armor she could get.

“Hey, Raquel!” It seemed the Texan woman bore no grudge at Rhianne for brushing her off of Eric at the first mixer. “Y’all seen her man, right? Tall as all hell, and you should see thosemuscles.” She sketched Eric’s height and breadth, the ice cubes tinkling in the glass she held.

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