Mitchell and Jen grabbed a couple of flutes of champagne and found a quiet corner to be by themselves.
“Now what?” asked Mitchell, looking around the room.
“In about half an hour, they will ask people to pay for their items,” said Jen.
Mitchell looked at his watch. It was getting late, but he felt as if he were getting his second wind. The smell of Jen’s perfume was intoxicating and inviting. He was about to say something, when he eyed the woman who had been bidding against them. She locked eyes on them and started walking over.
“I hope we haven’t ticked off the wrong person,” said Mitchell, only half-joking, into Jen’s ear.
“Good evening,” said the woman, as she delicately extended her hand.
“Good evening,” said Jen, as she took the woman’s white-gloved hand and lightly shook it.
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your purchase tonight, dear,” said the dignified looking African-American woman, who appeared to be in her early seventies. She was dressed in a long dark-blue dress and wore a pair of diamonds in her ears that were larger than most women’s engagement rings.
“Thank you,” said Jen, with a flash of her pearly white teeth.
“I didn’t really want those old books, but I just wanted to help out. However, after seeing your boyfriend glaring at me, I was too afraid to keep going,” said the woman.
Mitchell and Jen exchanged a smirk between them.
“I am sorry about that, ma’am,” said Mitchell, as he delicately shook the woman’s gloved hand. “I sometimes get a little too competitive for my own good.”
“Well, it’s nice to know the money will be going to those veterans who truly need it,” said the woman as she turned to leave.
Mitchell stepped forward. “Ma’am, if you truly do care, they accept donations all year round. If you look over by the entrance, there’s a table set up to take donations,” said Mitchell, pointing to the table.
“Oh, right you are,” said the woman as she fumbled with her purse. “Your bid was ten thousand, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Jen.
“I didn’t catch your name. Mister…?”
Mitchell felt awful for forgetting his manners “Mitchell, my name is Ryan Mitchell, and my friend’s name is Miss Jennifer March.”
“Very well, Mister Mitchell, Miss March. I too can be competitive when the mood strikes me,” said the woman, as she fished out her checkbook. “Would you mind coming with me, dear?” said the woman to Jen, as she took her by the arm and walked with her over to the waiting table.
Jen returned a few minutes later with an astonished look on her face.
“What is it?” asked Mitchell inquisitively.
“She…she donated twenty thousand dollars,” stammered Jen.
Mitchell was suitably impressed. “Who was she?”
Jen shook her head. “I haven’t a clue, but you seem to be able bring out the competitive side in people, Ryan, I’ll give you that.”
They were about to look around for one last drink when the auctioneer announced that people could pay for their items or make arrangements to do so in the next forty-eight hours. Mitchell and Jen decided to pay now with Mitchell’s credit card and pick up the items later the next day. When they arrived to pay, Jen eyed the smallest of the three books, picked it up and with a giddy smile, she excitedly exclaimed that the book was no less than the personal diary of Charles Reid. She held on to the book like a teenage girl getting the latest vampire romance novel. She left instructions for the delivery of the other two books, while Mitchell paid for their items.
Mitchell could see the obvious excitement written across Jen’s face. “I can see it was money well spent,” said Mitchell, as he took Jen’s arm and led her towards the entrance of the building. Jen was far too engrossed in the diary to acknowledge Mitchell. He left her inside the building and stepped outside into the cool night air to look for their limo. Looking up and down the street, Mitchell was a little peeved when he could not see their limo anywhere. Checking his watch, he realized that he had arranged for it to arrive in ten minutes’ time. Quickly, he stepped back inside the warm interior of the building.
He found Jen still with her nose deep in the book. Smiling to himself, he realized that she was enthralled with their purchase; it was going to take some sweet talk to get her back out into the real world. “The limo isn’t there yet. It should be here in another ten minutes,” said Mitchell, trying to get Jen’s attention.
“Uh-huh,” replied Jen distractedly, without looking up.
Mitchell stood there watching people leave in expensive-looking cars that he had only read about in car collector magazines. There was a steady stream of people leaving, when three men dressed in jeans and long black leather jackets appeared from out of nowhere, brusquely pushed their way inside, and started looking around. Mitchell saw the serious and determined look on their faces; instantly, he knew something was wrong. Clearly, none of them were patrons of the arts. Mitchell watched as they walked over to the auctioneer and swore under his breath as the man pointed the three men in their direction. From the way the men moved purposefully towards them, Mitchell judged them as being either ex-police, or former military. He did not like the way the men’s jackets bulged, the telltale sign of concealed weapons. Quickly looking around for another way out, Mitchell was frustrated to see other patrons idly waiting around for their rides, blocking their only exit.
The men stopped in front of Mitchell; the closest man was easily over two meters tall with broad shoulders. He menacingly stood there looking down at Mitchell, when another man came inside and joined them. Mitchell could not believe when he saw it was the thug from the Philippines.
“Good evening again, Mister Mitchell and Miss March. How nice that you decided to get together after all the unpleasantness of our last encounter,” said David Teplov with a smile.
Jen’s heart skipped a beat. Without even looking up from her book, she instantly recognized the voice of the man who had tried to kidnap her.
Mitchell ground his teeth. He was hoping to BS his way out of the auction house, but as soon as he saw Teplov, he knew they were trapped.
Jen finally looked up and recoiled in shock when she saw Teplov standing so close to her and Mitchell. “Ryan, what’s going on? Why are these men here?” asked Jen, suddenly feeling very scared.
“Now, Miss March, just stay calm and come with us,” said Teplov.
Mitchell stepped between Teplov and Jen. “I think we’d rather stay here and have another drink,” said Mitchell, as he quickly checked out the competition. He was not carrying a gun, but all of the thugs were most likely armed and by the cold looks on their faces, they were no doubt proficient in the application of violence.
Jen’s heart started to race as one of Teplov’s thugs brought out a pistol and aimed it right at Mitchell’s heart.
“Don’t try any foolish heroics, Mister Mitchell,” said Teplov with a nod. “Just quietly move outside with us.”
Mitchell realized that any commotion would instantly result in his and Jen’s deaths. Reaching back, Mitchell took Jen by the hand and followed one of the men out the door, closely trailed by the man with the pistol. His mind raced. What could he do? Mitchell knew that he probably could take out the man behind him, if he were fast enough, but that left the other men, and Jen would most likely be killed before he could take down anyone else. Mitchell cursed under his breath at their dilemma. Squeezing her hand, he pulled Jen closer to him.