Sometimes, the best-planned missions had to be redone on the fly.

Like now.

Turner looked at the rowdy crowd waiting for the auction to begin. When they’d arrived, he’d counted thirty-two men inside the stable, but more had arrived since, and the place was packed with standing room only. There were too many witnesses for a takeover and extraction operation.

With all due respect to Arwel, Turner couldn’t see the guy thralling so many people at once, and by the Guardian’s deep frown, neither did he.

Motioning for Anandur to follow, he started pushing his way out.

“Change of plans,” he said as they stepped into the cool night air, a welcome reprieve after the stifling heat and body odors inside. “Tonight, we are buyers.”

“Your guy messed up,” Onegus said. “According to him, there were supposed to be only twenty or so bidders.”

“Evidently, auction night is not a good time for the type of operation we had in mind. The turnout is unpredictable.”

Anandur scratched at his beard. “Right. What’s the new game plan?”

Turner motioned for the men to huddle closer. “By the looks of it, the bidding shouldn’t go up too high. Most of the men seem to be riffraff. I don’t expect any of them to bid more than a few hundred. I’d be surprised if anyone goes as high as a thousand. We could buy out the entire stock.”

Arwel leaned forward and whispered. “There are only four of us.”

That was a problem. Nine girls were about to be auctioned, and the customers were expected to enjoy them on the premises and not take them home with them.

Turner smoothed his hand over the back of his head. “Each of us will have to bid for several girls. Once the bidding is done, we will have to take them to the rooms with us. After the losers leave, we will do what we came here to do.”

“That means putting on a show,” Anandur said.

Arwel shrugged.

Onegus smiled. “Should be fun. Let’s go.”

Turner lifted a hand. “Wait until the bidding is almost over before you put in yours. I’ll go first. When they call me up to collect my prize, I’ll say that I want more than one. Just don’t bid against me.”

Onegus rolled his eyes. “Duh.”

“You’re next,” Turner told him. “Anandur, you go third. Arwel, you go last. Then we start again in the same order until we have all the girls.”

Anandur scratched his beard. “We don’t have to bid on all of them. We can have the others bid and win, and then when the losers leave, we take them out with the rest.”

His suggestion made sense tactically, but Turner liked things compartmentalized. They were on a rescue mission, which meant no girl was going to get victimized tonight. In the time it would take for the crowd to disperse, the other bid winners could do all kind of nasty things to their prizes.

Not on his watch. “It will complicate things. The fewer people remaining on the premises, the better.”

“What about the other women?” Arwel asked. “Are all of them being auctioned tonight? What about the regulars?”

“They are being auctioned as well. Not all of them are unwilling. Some are professional.”

“So why waste resources on them?”

Turner shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it will be a wakeup call for them? A chance to get out? You can later thrall those who don’t want to be rescued and make them believe it was a police raid or something to that effect.”

Arwel nodded.

They had discussed the possibility before heading out, but it seemed Arwel hadn’t been paying attention. The guy wasn’t a good fit for an operation like that, but they needed him. Apparently, he was the only one with a strong enough telepathic ability to sense concealed threats as well as hidden victims.

A psychic radar instead of an electromagnetic one.

Working with immortals was interesting. Turner could’ve used someone like Arwel in his operation, provided the guy could be trained. Except, if the Guardian program hadn’t succeeded in doing so, the guy was probably untrainable.

A puzzle to ponder later. Arwel’s indispensable ability had a flip side of severe disability. Did it make him an asset or a liability?

Hey, that rhymed. It reminded him of Roni's slam poetry.

Back in the stable, the bidding had started on the first girl. Either willing or high on something, she was an enthusiastic participant and was encouraging the bidding. Sauntering up and down the stage in her birthday suit, she was flaunting her assets shamelessly.

Turner had a feeling she was going to be one of those they would have to thrall and send home.

“Do I hear a thousand?” the auctioneer asked.

“Here!” someone called.

“Do I hear eleven hundred? Tracy is worth it, gentlemen.”

Tracy shook her butt.

A few men whistled and made lewd remarks, but no one raised his hand.

Turner waited for a few more moments before raising his hand. “Here! Eleven hundred!”

“Do I hear twelve hundred?”

There were a few murmurs, but no one challenged Turner’s bid.

“And the winner is the bald gentlemen in the back. Come claim your prize for tonight.”

“I’m not done,” Turner called out. “I’m in the mood for a threesome. What else you got?”

A few guys responded with hollers and encouragements, some going as far as offering combining of resources.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not sharing.”

The next girl to go up wasn’t as bold as Tracy. Josephine, probably not her real name, looked dazed. No doubt drugged out of her mind. When the auctioneer removed her robe, leaving her nude and trembling on the stage, Turner heard Anandur growl next to him.

The last thing he needed was for the immortal to flash a pair of fangs. “Calm down, man. Do you need to get some fresh air?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine to me.”

Anandur took in a deep breath, released it on a hiss, and took in another one. “I’m good.”

That was a complication Turner hadn’t taken into consideration. The Guardians were supposed to have excellent self-control, but it seemed that Anandur had a weak spot for females in distress. Perhaps he wasn’t the right guy for the job.

Onegus, on the other hand, was excellent. He played the part of the leering male to perfection. A good-looking guy, he even managed to get a small smile from Josephine. Compared to the rest of the riffraff, he must’ve looked like a prince to her.

When the bidding was over, the four of them had bought all nine girls, for the impressive amount of thirteen thousand two hundred dollars. Kian would not be happy about this. Especially since at least four of them seemed to be willing participants.

As Turner collected his two prizes, Tracy and Michele, he wondered what he was going to do with them until the coast was clear.

“I would like a massage,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “Which one of you ladies wants to do my feet?”