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Argentina, near Buenos Aires ...

D arius “Batman” Knight’s day and mission had just gone to hell on a Harley.

Yeah, the cliché was “hell in a hand basket,” but, in his opinion, that had gone out of date a long time ago and his version was better—not that it really mattered.

What did matter was his undercover identity was a few seconds from being blown unless he could do something about it.

He stayed in the shadows in the underground prison on Emmanuel Diaz’s vast property in the hills just north of Buenos Aires, Argentina, hoping the woman he recognized in a nearby cell wouldn’t see him. If she did, it was highly unlikely she could disguise the fact she knew him.

Shit! How the hell did Princess Tahira end up here?

She should be safe in her homeland of Timasur, at one of her family’s many vacation homes around the world, including their estate in Clearwater Beach, Florida.

No matter where she’d been, she would’ve been guarded.

He remembered his real employer, Ian “Boss-man” Sawyer, saying, in the briefing in which Darius had received this assignment six weeks ago, that Tahira and her cousins had changed their vacation plans and had decided to take a luxury-liner cruise.

Had that been scheduled for this week or last week?

He couldn’t remember, not that it made any difference now.

Tahira looked ready to spit nails, her eyes flaring with anger and her arms crossed over her chest. “I demand you let me and my cousins go! Do you have any idea who I am?”

A drug czar, who also participated in arms dealing and white slavery, Diaz and three of his minions leered at the beautiful twenty-five-year-old who was wearing a pale pink bikini with a pink and black sarong wrapped around her waist. Her feet were bare.

From what Darius had learned on the way down to the mansion’s dungeon, Tahira and her two cousins—he didn’t know their names, having never met them before—had been snatched and flown to Argentina in a private jet and had arrived at midnight—just about an hour ago.

Five members of the royal guard were supposed to accompany the princess during her travels, with at least two staying with her at all times, but clearly, they hadn’t been able to thwart the kidnapping.

Whichever ones had been with her, they’d either been killed or, at least, disabled.

Mousaf Amar, the head of the royal guard, had trained with several special-ops teams around the world and passed those practices onto the men he supervised.

Standing outside the cell that contained Tahira and her cousins—there were five other cells filled with other women who huddled together in terror-filled silence—Diaz responded, “Of course I do, Your Highness .”

Double shit! Darius managed to hide his surprise.

At first, he’d thought the three cousins had been randomly selected by the bastards who kidnapped young women throughout Central and South America and the Caribbean in order to sell them to Diaz who would then sell them into slavery.

The kind of slavery that meant being repeatedly drugged, raped, and tortured for the remainder of their lives.

But Diaz had known immediately who the princess was.

Had she been targeted? The head of the cartel had to know there would be a massive manhunt for Her Royal Highness.

Why snatch a high-profile woman? It would be all over the internet within minutes of the media discovering Tahira had been kidnapped. Why take that risk?

When Diaz had emphasized her royal address in a condescending manner, Tahira’s obvious rage spiked.

Her face reddened, eyes flared, and jaw clenched.

Darius had to hand it to her—despite the situation she was in, she wasn’t cowering in the corner of the cell like her two cousins were.

Unfortunately, that attitude might get her hurt—more so than what fate she’d face if Darius didn’t get ahold of his teammates who were backing him up on this mission.

He wondered if Trident Security, the black-ops company he worked for under six of his retired teammates from SEAL Team Four, had any idea that Tahira had been kidnapped.

They probably did by now; Ian and Devon Sawyer had a contract with the royal family and joined forces with their team of bodyguards to protect them any time they visited Florida.

Amar would have contacted the black-ops team as soon as he’d heard the princess was missing.

The acknowledgement of Tahira’s title seemed to catch her off guard, but she recovered quickly. “So, you want my father to pay a ransom to release us? I assure you he will not. Instead he will send a team of the best men he has to rescue us and leave this place in ruins.”

Chuckling, Diaz sneered. “Well, I can assure you, I never planned on asking your father for money. You’re worth far more than that to me. Men will bid millions in money and information for a princess. Tell me, Your Highness , are you still a virgin? That will double the starting price.”

Tahira’s bronze complexion paled, and Darius’s gut clenched, knowing she’d just figured out what was in store for her if things went according to the cartel’s plans.

He wished he could let her know he’d do everything in his power to make sure she and her cousins got out of this mess unscathed, but he couldn’t let her see him—not yet.

She would recognize him immediately, despite his longer hair, beard, and mustache he’d grown out at the start of the mission, and give away his cover.

He’d been on her security detail a few times, during her visits to Tampa, since joining his former teammates at Trident over a year ago.

For now, he had to remain in the shadows.

The white-slavery auction was next week.

Sometime between now and then he had to figure out a way to get Tahira out of there.

He’d save as many of the women as he could, but the princess was now his top priority, instinctively knowing that would be Boss-man’s order, if and when Darius was able to pass an update to his backup who would forward the intel.

The radio on his hip, and those in possession of most of the other men around him, squelched before the voice of a guard stationed at the estate’s entrance came over the air, speaking in Spanish.

It was one of the languages Darius could speak fluently and was one of the reasons he’d been chosen to go undercover on this mission.

The other reason was he’d been on the op when Emmanuel’s brother, Ernesto, had been killed by members of SEAL Team Four.

A truck carrying weapons and ammo that they’d been expecting had arrived.

Diaz’s right-hand man, Felix Secada acknowledged the alert and then snapped his fingers.

“Hamilton, Torres, go meet the truck and make sure the full load is there before they leave. If it’s not, kill them. Take Lopez and Acosta with you.”

Darius, aka Glenn Hamilton from Miami, was relieved Secada had issued the order so he could get the hell out of the cell area before Tahira recognized him.

Seeing her turn her head, following Secada’s gaze in his direction, he stepped further back into the shadows and spun toward the stairs.

He hated leaving her down there, but aside from being locked up, she should be safe until the night of the auction.

With Torres on his heels, Darius took the stairs two at a time until he reached the first floor, wishing to God he could’ve erased the look of fear on Tahira’s pretty face.

Somehow, someway, he’d get her, her cousins, and the other women out of there.

Now he just had to figure out how to do it without blowing his cover. Triple shit.