Reddington grinned back, natural and completely unconcerned about what might happen. His personal peril seemed insignificant.
Elizabeth stared at Reddington. It seemed to her he had a special kind of madness that chased away the fear of consequence when he faced dangerous situations.
The driver, a tall figure, opened the limo door.
"After you, my dear," Sanchez said.
Elizabeth stepped out of the limo as her car was driven up behind them. The headlights were switched off. The two brothers got out and approached them.
"Get Dembe out of the trunk," Sanchez said as he exited the limo followed by Reddington and Cesar.
The driver popped the trunk and the brothers soon had Dembe standing between them, his hands tied in front.
"Watch your step," Sanchez said to Elizabeth as he took her elbow and accompanied her up the steps.
The inside of the lodge was simply spectacular, a rich man's indulgence revealed when Sanchez turned on various lights. Elizabeth's eyes swept the dark wood floor of the Great Room. A floor to ceiling stone fireplace dominated the room with a tucked back nook on each side. The nook on the right was for reading with a custom bookcase filled with brown leather books and artwork above. A reading chair with lamp was placed in front of the tall narrow window. The nook on the left was for poker with an oak table and swivel chairs. Cream leather armchairs, ottoman, and couch faced each other for conversation in front of the fireplace; the warm cozy space defined by the thick black, tan, and cream rug with decorative swirls. She could picture herself sinking into the plush armchair with a throw on a chill night. Picture frames, woodland throws and stripe chenille pillows added color. The artwork depicted animals of the forest. Table lamps and ceiling lights helped the flow of light. Even more appealing was the hot tub on the screened deck out back.
Reddington spotted the well-stocked corner bar. "Ah, decent drink, I see." He walked over, selected a bottle, poured brandy into a glass and added a squirt of soda.
"Make me one, Raymond," Sanchez said.
Reddington made a second and carried it to Sanchez.
He sipped the drink and nodded. His gaze focused on Dembe, calculating and thoughtful. Dembe stood quietly in front of the two brothers, head down. He looked thoroughly subdued.
"I need good men," Sanchez said. "I'll pay you double what Reddington pays you. What do you say?"
Dembe did not look up or answer.
Cesar was at his side with his knife out. He slid the blade under Dembe's chin and forced his head up. "Mr. Sanchez asked you a question."
"I do not need your money," Dembe said in a low voice, looking at Sanchez.
"I admire loyalty."
"Then you understand my refusal."
"I really do," Sanchez said regretfully, "but now I have to let Cesar have his fun."
Cesar grinned and made a few passes with his knife. "Where shall I cut first?"
Reddington turned to Sanchez. "I'll give you a pre-Hispanic artifact if you'll give Dembe a chance."
Sanchez laughed and shook his head. "Oh Raymond, you say the most amusing things."
"I'm serious. I've heard from an insider that the Binoche Et Giquello auction house in Paris will be auctioning off 'Seated Divinity' before too long. I can get that five feet stucco figure of a shield-toting warrior for you."
"That piece has been exhibited and discussed since 1976."
"You can be its new owner." Reddington assured him.
Sanchez studied Reddington critically. His words were compelling. "I want to trust you…." His voice trailed off and he suddenly reached a decision. "Cut the ties, Cesar."
His knife sliced through Dembe's bindings with ease. Dembe rubbed his wrists.
"Dembe can fight unarmed," Sanchez added.
"That's unfair," Elizabeth protested. Her concern showed on her face. "He'll be cut to pieces."
Sanchez sipped his drink and let his gaze linger on her like a lover's sensual touch. "This will be the first of many entertainments this evening."
Elizabeth repressed a shudder. When he looked at her like that, she felt violated. It was not a feeling she liked. She silently willed Reddington to do something, anything to end this waking nightmare.
Reddington stared at Dembe. There was always the unforeseeable and unpredictable. He had done what he could to help him.
Cesar aimed a blinding slash at Dembe's face. Dembe flung himself back and to the side. His quickness saved his face, but his forearm that he instinctively raised took the cut. His jacket sleeve split open and blood seeped to stain the leather.
"First blood," Cesar said.
Dembe stepped back, evaded a thrust, and backed again and again as Cesar made cunning feints. He felt the edge of the long table on his back. The barrier blocked his retreat into the dining room.
"You're out of space." Cesar's high girly voice held gloating. "Remember our last meeting? You took me by surprise. Not this time."
Cesar moved forward for another cut. Dembe deflected the inside of his wrist with his left hand and punched Cesar's ribs with his right hand. As he slipped behind him, a quick hit to the liver and right elbow to the spine gave Dembe the upper hand. A follow up hit to the brachial plexus, the nerve bundle in the neck that controls the arm holding the weapon, allowed Dembe to take Cesar down, all less than three seconds.
Dembe released Cesar and stepped away.
"I'm impressed," Sanchez said. "I'll triple my offer."
Dembe shook his head and stood silent, aware that the brothers had their weapons pointed at him. He could not outfight a bullet.
"Get up off the floor, Cesar," Sanchez said. "You depend too much on your knife to intimidate. Dembe had no fear."
Cesar picked up his knife and stood up. He surprised Dembe by saying, "You fought well."
Dembe bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"It's been a long evening. I need a bathroom," Elizabeth said, suddenly aware of the pressure on her bladder.
Sanchez looked at her briefly, and then turned his attention toward the driver standing in the background. The man had not spoken once. "Mr. Black, retie Dembe's hands and seat him at the table. Keep watch."
The somber driver quickly fulfilled Sanchez's orders. Once Dembe was secured and seated, the man sat in a chair and took out his own gun, placing it on the dining table within easy grasp. The weapon had a silencer.
Sanchez gestured with a hand. "Raymond, sit at the bar. Rico and Lenny, if he moves off the stool shoot him."
Sanchez set his drink on the bar before turning to Elizabeth. "Come with me." He directed her to the master suite separate from four guest rooms. The bedroom was furnished with a king sized canopy bed against the exposed outer log wall and had its own private bath. The three interior walls were cedar covered and two plush burgundy leather chairs faced each other at an angle with a small table between them.
Elizabeth reached the bathroom and looked back over her shoulder. Sanchez stood in the doorway watching her. "The window doesn't open to the outside," he said with a mocking smile.
Elizabeth shut the bathroom door. She quickly relieved herself, flushed, and washed her hands in the black granite basin. The floor was Italian marble in rustic colors and there was a Jacuzzi. She lingered a moment, drying her hands on the soft towel. She didn't want to face Sanchez. Her eyes strayed to the high window since he had mentioned it. No one would be climbing out of it. She sighed and opened the door.
Sanchez leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He watched her walk toward him. He liked how the tank top revealed her bellybutton and felt a surge of lust and excitement. When she went to pass him, he reached out his arm to block her path. He saw the flare of concern in her eyes that was instantly masked. Then she lifted her chin, and her expression went neutral. He had expected fear. This quiet show of strength was not to his liking. He grabbed her arm, swung her around so her back was against the bedroom wall, and pinned her with his body. He had a mental image of her resistance and his hand ripping open her tank top. He wanted to see her breasts. His full lips parted.
"I have anticipated this moment."