Torpedo Ink had a member, Player, who was a master of illusion. He could create entrances and exits or throw up false walls they could hide behind. The toll was tremendous on him for using that talent, but he’d developed it into a real weapon that had saved their lives on many occasions. Maestro wasn’t thrown by illusions. He was good at telling the difference between reality and tricks.

The swaying ropes of light had been set up deliberately to give the illusion of the walls closing in on anyone walking around. It was a good trick and required a professional to manage it. Billows most likely had done it knowing Azelie worked in an office below the clubs. He didn’t want her exploring. The illusion hadn’t stopped Azelie when she believed another woman was hurt and needed help. Billows didn’t know Azelie nearly as well as he thought he did.

The wood panel whispered to him as he made his way steadily toward the wall solidly in front of him. He felt Azelie’s presence, although the incident had taken place months earlier. Her fear and determination were impressed into the grains in the wood. That made Maestro love her all the more. She’d been unwavering in her resolve to find the unknown woman even though she was terrified. Azelie was courageous, even if a little foolhardy.

He located the lock in the carvings along the wall. Keys came up behind him just as he was trying Azelie’s chip and prints. He did so smoothly, as if just by believing, the chip would work—and it did. Billows hadn’t gone to the trouble of removing Azelie’s prints and key from the lock. He’d just used the same one.

“He has all this elaborate security, and yet he reused the same door lock,” Keys muttered. “Sometimes people make no sense to me, Maestro. None at all.”

“It goes with Billows’ personality. He believes he’s too intelligent for anyone to catch him. Ego tends to be the downfall of men like him. His device is so secret he doesn’t need more than one.”

The door opened silently. Maestro peered into the darkened corridor. This hall was much wider than the one they had followed to get to the door. Reluctantly, he stepped back to allow Keys to precede him.

We’re in, he reported to Steele. They had the small radio earpieces in their ears, but because they had been unable to get audio when they were following Azelie’s progress into the underground rooms, they thought it would be better to try to communicate using telepathy. Some were better at it than others, and distance could screw things up. The radios were for backup if telepathy didn’t work.

Steele responded, It’s quiet out here so far, but clock is ticking.

Maestro knew they were taking a little longer than anticipated, searching for bombs beneath the floor and in the walls. They couldn’t afford to take any chances, especially if women were being held captive.

The corridor had several doors leading to rooms. One was slightly open. No light shone through and there was no sound. Maestro stepped to one side and pushed the door open another two inches with one finger. The scent of blood hit him. He was very familiar with the smell. The fact that there were no lights and there was the scent of blood didn’t have him jumping to the conclusion that the room was empty. That kind of thinking only got a person dead. They could have accidentally tripped a silent alarm they knew nothing about.

He slid into the room without disturbing the door further. It wasn’t as easy as he would have liked. His chest slid across the door frame, a whisper of sound, but that was enough to get one killed. He had too much muscle for tight places. He naturally put on muscle. That sounded good, but in his profession, it wasn’t always a good thing.

“It’s Andrew McGrady,” he told Keys. “He died hard. They didn’t just execute him. Billows was pissed as hell over the attention he brought to Azelie. He doesn’t want the cops anywhere near her.”

Seeing McGrady’s dead body worried him for Azelie’s safety. Billows easily could decide the job she did wasn’t worth the risk to him. She knew more about his finances than anyone else. She had to know the names of his colleagues. Torpedo Ink had already discussed the best way to go about debriefing her, trying to learn other names that would lead to the heads of the trafficking ring.

Steele, is Rock watching over Azelie? Rock—Fatei Molchalin—hadn’t gone to the same school as the founding members of Torpedo Ink. He’d attended the school Gavriil had gone to. He had come to Torpedo Ink as a prospect, willing to put in the time and effort so the members would know he could be counted on. That he was loyal and always had their backs. Once made a full-fledged member, he had continued to prove to them he believed in their causes. They had voted to take him along on team two, Steele’s team. For now, they used him mainly as a guard. He hadn’t trained with them, and when the members of the team worked, they were a smooth-oiled machine. Having anyone new could throw them off their game.

She’s still in her apartment. No one has come near the building other than the normal tenants, Steele replied. Rock won’t let you down.

Maestro knew he wouldn’t, it was just that he would have preferred his woman to be in Caspar, at the clubhouse or at Czar’s home, where she could be under guard, eyes on her directly, not just her apartment building. He’d prefer her to be anywhere but in San Francisco. Billows didn’t know him or the members of Torpedo Ink. He had no idea they were hunting him. He did know Azelie. Billows had associates and men loyal to him. If he suspected he was in jeopardy, he would get rid of any threats to him.

Maestro continued down the hall, trailing his palm just above each door as they passed it. The rooms were empty until he came to the fifth door. He signaled to Keys, who was going down the hall checking the doors on the opposite side. Keys took his place in front of the door, lifting both palms toward the entrance. He had a gift for seeing through walls. Maybe not actually seeing, but he had developed senses, whether he saw heat imaging or just felt the presence of others. However that gift worked, he could tell how many enemies were in another room and their exact location. He hadn’t failed since he’d become a teen.

Two women. Both are hurt. One’s in the far right corner, on the floor. Man standing over her. His partner is shoving the other woman away from the first one. Second woman just went down in the middle of the floor. Her assailant is kicking her.

Maestro stood to one side of the door, while Keys was directly behind him. Keys tapped his shoulder and Maestro opened the door, stepped to his right and shot the man standing over the woman in the far right corner. He fired one shot straight to the middle of the forehead. Simultaneously, Keys shot the man kicking the woman. Keys didn’t miss when he aimed at someone, and neither did Maestro.

Maestro held up his hand to the women on the floor. “Don’t scream. Need to know if there are more of you. More guards. We’ve come to get you out of here.”

The woman in the middle of the floor sat up, looked him over carefully and then crawled across the room to put her arms around the second victim. Keys ignored the torn clothing strewn around the room and handed her a shirt he’d brought with him. “You have decent clothes somewhere?”

“In the holding rooms. They brought us here to have a little private fun, they called it,” the woman said, taking the shirt. She began to put it on the woman crouched on the floor. “Paula, it’s okay. They aren’t going to hurt us. I think they’re here to help.”

“We’re in a time crunch,” Maestro said. “I don’t want to push you, but we need to get you somewhere safe. You both need medical assistance.” The one she called Paula looked as if she’d been in a train wreck. Clearly, she was terrified and nearly comatose. He’d seen that look hundreds of times before. Human beings pushed beyond their minds’ ability to accept the trauma happening to them.

“I’m Cecily.” She took Maestro’s hand so he could assist her to her feet. He wrapped her in a shirt he’d brought. They’d learned victims often didn’t have clothes. It was one of the ways their captors stripped them of dignity and made them feel vulnerable.

Maestro crouched down beside Paula. She looked young, still in her teens. “I know this is difficult, Paula.” Deliberately he called her by her name. “We’re going to get you and Cecily out of here. Can you walk? I’d carry you, but we have to clear the rest of the rooms.”

“Everyone else is down in the holding room,” Cecily volunteered. “There’s a tunnel. They brought us in through that way. We’ve never been anywhere other than the room they hold us in, the training rooms and now here. This was the first time anyone took us here.”

If Maestro had to guess, the two men assaulting the women had most likely been the ones to kill Andrew McGrady. They were probably celebrating.

“How many other women?” Keys asked.

“Six,” Cecily answered readily. “Paula, baby, we have to go. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you.”

“I’m putting my hands on you,” Maestro said, “but only to help you get to your feet. Think about getting out of here.” He sent up a silent prayer that whatever powers might be would give the girl the strength to tolerate his touch.

Paula’s gaze clinging to Cecily, she let out a little sob as she gave a barely perceptible nod. Maestro didn’t wait. He lifted the girl to her feet. She shuddered with pain and nearly collapsed. Broken ribs for certain, he informed Keys and included Steele. This one can’t be out of her teens and she’s in bad shape.

We have the hospital we use standing by. Clock is ticking, Steele reminded them. Get them out of there before Billows makes his rounds.

“We’ve got to go, ladies,” Maestro said. He signaled to Keys to lead the way. He’d bring up the rear. Keys was the man who could see through walls. “Tell us where the opening to the tunnel is.” He kept his voice soft and compelling.

Cecily wrapped her arm around Paula’s back. “You have to go down to the very end of the hallway. There’s a lock on the wooden panel.” She looked and sounded alarmed. “They have a special way of opening the lock. They shut the door, so it automatically locked.”

“We’ll get through,” Maestro assured her. “Keep moving.”

The progress down the hall was excruciatingly slow. He wished he could carry Paula, knowing every step she took hurt like hell, but he needed his hands free.

“You’re up,” Keys said.

Maestro moved around the women to hover his palms an inch from the paneling. The screams and cries of women mixed with male arousal and ugly visions drowned out the intricacies of the lock. He was going to have to touch the wood. His gut knotted at the necessary decision. He knew childhood memories would flood in, bursting open the doors he’d sealed shut in his mind. He clung to Azelie, using her as a buffer. The lightness of her. The sunshine in her. The joy she had for life and the people she surrounded herself with.

Despite the vicious, brutal memories locked in the grains and carvings of wood screaming at him, he was able to find the lock and open it with the same ease as he’d opened the previous one. After they went through, the door closed automatically behind them.

The tunnel was cold and drafty, the walls dirt and rock with only the occasional two-by-four to hold chicken wire that had been strung to keep the dirt from crumbling. The tunnel was a disaster waiting to happen. One good earthquake could easily collapse the roof, which was leaking and had roots hanging down like poisonous webs.

Maestro exchanged a look with Keys. They’d spent their childhood in just such an environment. Damp. Cold. Miserable. No clothes to help with warmth. Injuries were untreated until Steele, a very little boy, had shown signs of his tremendous talent and ability to soak up the knowledge in medical books they found in the mansion’s library. Even then, they didn’t have supplies unless they managed to crawl through the vents and steal them. These women had no chance of crawling through vents.

“How many guards?” Maestro whispered to Cecily.

“There were three that I observed when we were brought in. One at the door to the room we’re locked in. One in the tunnel just down from the room. Not leading up here but leading to the outside entrance. And at least one guard is at the outside entrance. He seems to stay in the tunnel for shelter. At least, I caught glimpses of a couple of chairs just inside when we were being brought in.”

Cecily was extraordinary. She had to have been scared. She was intelligent enough to know what was going to happen to her, but she kept her wits about her and observed as much as she could.

“Nice job, Cecily,” Maestro praised. “The information you’re giving to us will help.”

“We’re getting close. The first guard stationed in the tunnel might be able to see us.”

“We’ve got you two, and they’ll believe we’re bringing you back.”

Kill the lights in forty-five seconds. Maestro sent the instructions to Code. “Both of you keep your heads down. We can’t afford the guard at the entrance to the tunnel to hear gunshots.”

At least one guard just inside tunnel entrance. Come in from that side but be cautious. My source only saw the one when she was coming in.