Anger and frustration mixed inside her. She stomped back to the bed.
The dress lying there was beautiful. It was a ballet-inspired evening dress with a blue tulle skirt that would hit at midcalf, and a fitted V-neck bodice in navy blue. Dangly, diamond earrings and silvery heels that made her think of Cinderella slippers completed the outfit.
She huffed out a breath. There was no way she wanted to end up naked in front of a crowd of strangers.
Remembering the horrible lust in Mikhailov’s eyes as he’d stared at her made her belly roll sickeningly.
She had to get out of here.
Saskia quickly dressed. She left her hair in a bun and kept her makeup light. No way she was dressing up more than she had to. She slipped the earrings in her ears. As she’d suspected, the dress was beautiful, and fit her like a glove.
She went back to the window. She saw some women being escorted into the party by guards. They were all wearing slinky, sparkly dresses, but even from a distance they looked stiff and unhappy.
Then she saw a woman with blonde curls and she sucked in a breath. Addie. The woman was wearing a sleek column of pink. She was crying, and a guard was angry at her.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Saskia pushed open the window. The sound of a string quartet hit her. She glanced over and spied a small dance floor.
The thought of dancing for Mikhailov made her sick.
Her gaze dropped to the ledge outside her window. Her heart thumped and she leaned out. The ledge was quite wide.
Wide enough to walk along.
Saskia didn’t stop to think. She gripped the window frame and stepped out.
The cool evening breeze caught her, raising goosebumps on her bare arms. A cocktail dress and bare feet wasn’t the best outfit for escaping a mansion. She shimmied along the ledge, and passed several other windows. She got a glimpse of more well-decorated bedrooms.
Ahead, a drainpipe traveled the height of the mansion. It wouldn’t be easy to climb down, but she was fit and strong, so—
A shout.
She whipped her head back and spotted a craggy-faced guard looking out the window from her room.
Oh, no.
Saskia moved faster. The guard lifted a radio to his mouth.
A shout came from below. There was another guard down in the gardens, waving at her.
Dammit.
Gritting her teeth, she reached the drainpipe. She couldn’t go down, so she’d go up.
She gripped the metal and climbed.
It was harder than she’d guessed it would be. She pressed her bare feet to the pipe. The dress caught, and she heard something tear.
The guard was out on the ledge now, heading toward her.
She reached the roof of the house, and using all her strength, pulled herself over the edge.
Saskia stopped for a second, resting flat on the shingles, catching her breath.
Move, Saskia.
She rose, and the wind whipped up her skirt. She was highly conscious that she had no idea what to do next.
She started across the roof and prayed she didn’t slip off. She crossed over and looked down. Below, she spotted another guard, looking up at her.
No. By the time she climbed down, he’d be waiting for her at the bottom.
She kept moving.
Another shout.
She looked back over her shoulder. There was a guard on the roof. He started in her direction.
Her heart leaped into her throat. She had to find a way off.
She heard the squawk of a radio and spotted another guard hauling himself up onto the roof from the other side.
Oh, God.
They’d catch her. They’d take her back.
Fighting down panic, she adjusted her course. She ended up at the roof edge, looking down at the fancy party and the pool below.
She saw an older man in a suit pull a curvy brunette toward him. The woman looked like she wanted to puke as the man fondled her ass through her white dress.
The guards were getting closer.
Saskia lifted her chin. She was a Hawke. She wouldn’t let these assholes rape and abuse her.
Her thoughts turned to Camden.
God, she would give anything to be with him right now. To have his hard arms around her.
“Stop!” a guard yelled at her.
“Fuck you!” she yelled back.
The partygoers below were noticing her, some of them pointing.
Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the night.
Saskia screamed and ducked. She saw one of the guards on the roof aiming a gun in her direction.
The other guard waved his arms. “No! Mr. Mikhailov wants her alive.”
Mr. Mikhailov could get fucked.
Saskia backed up, her heart beating hard in her ears.
Then she ran.
The man behind her yelled. She didn’t stop. She leaped into the air, throwing herself forward.
God, she hoped she made it.
Her dress flapped around her, the wind catching her face.
She hit the pool with a huge splash.
Her dress floated up, tangling around her body. She flailed. The water was heated at least.
Her head broke the surface. There were shouts and screams.
The party turned into chaos.
Saskia pushed her way to the steps. People were staring at her, goggle-eyed.
She climbed out of the pool, water dripping off her. Out of the heated water, the cold air cut through her.
Time to go.
She broke into a run, stumbling through the people. The confused crowd parted for her. Women stepped out of her way.
A man tried to grab her, and she shoved him away.
Somewhere behind her, guards were bellowing, then she heard more gunshots.
No.
She plunged off the paved area, cut across the grass, and ran into the grapevines.
Cam watched everything go to hell.
He was crouched in the grapevines with Vander, and the rest of the Norcross team: Saxon Buchanan, Siv Pedersen, Rome Nash, and Vander’s brother Rhys.
Hunt was waiting for a call as soon as they needed any police assistance.
Cam wore a ballistic vest like the others, and had a Glock 22 handgun strapped to his thigh.
He couldn’t believe these assholes—wealthy, entitled pricks—were having a damn party with kidnapped women as entertainment. These men probably put in damn orders for what they wanted: a blonde, a redhead. A ballet dancer.
His hand flexed, every muscle in his body taut.
It ended today.
Then he saw a flash of blue on the roof and his heart stopped.
Saskia.
She was on the damn roof. He watched a guard chase her, and his gut went tight. If she slipped…
He touched his earpiece. “Vander.”
“I see her. Saxon, Rhys, circle around the house and disable any guards.”
“With pleasure,” Saxon drawled.
“These women are all trafficked?” Siv murmured.
“We think so,” Vander replied.
She cursed in Norwegian.
Cam’s gaze stayed glued to Saskia. He heard the gunshot and saw one asshole guard shooting at her.
“Fuck,” he bit out.
Then he saw Saskia at the edge of the roof. His gut curdled, knowing exactly what she had planned.
“No, don’t you do it.”
Helplessly, he watched as she threw herself off the roof.
Cam shot to his feet. When she hit the pool, he was running.
“Cam!” Vander’s urgent voice. “Cam, dammit.”
But Cam wasn’t waiting any longer. He’d waited all damn day while they’d pulled the schematics for Mikhailov’s Napa estate. Hex had dug up every likely bit of information she could on guard numbers, workers, the guest list for the party.