brutal and leave no doubt in the minds of my enemies what the consequences are.”
No need to ask for the particulars to know that a lot of blood was going to be shed.
“There’s something you need to understand,” Vargas said. “Once Isabel is finished with the final preparations tomorrow, I want the two of you sequestered in the west wing of my villa. The individuals coming in for the auction aren’t the sort I want Isabel consorting with. That’s the reason I didn’t want her here for the event.”
“Okay. I’ll come up with a reason for us to stay in the west wing.” They needed to be out of the villa well before the auction, not locked inside. “We’ll see you later.” Dutch disconnected and looked at the clock.
The auction was set to take place tomorrow evening at eight. If they got on the road by three at the latest and didn’t hit too much traffic, they’d have plenty of time to get the hard drive.
Dutch got ready as quickly as possible once Isabel was out of the bathroom. They boarded McQueen at the day care facility and swung by the hospital.
Brenda was sleeping when they arrived, perfectly natural according to the nurse and the best thing to help her recovery.
They sat quietly at Brenda’s bedside. He held Isabel’s hand, lending his strength, doing his best not to hurry her along.
Time ticked away, one hour slipping into the next. They were losing the day.
The USMS couldn’t pull this off without her, but Dutch was painfully aware that few people in her life had put her first. There was no changing the fact that she was an asset the Marshals were exploiting, but he had to find a way to balance the constraints of the mission with Isabel’s needs. He wouldn’t let her become collateral damage.
Brenda stirred, her head moving from side to side. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, wildly, disoriented.
Isabel gently took her hand that bore the needle from the IV. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. I called your parents.”
Brenda’s gaze settled on Isabel. Her dry lips mouthed, You okay?
The woman had been shot twice, spent four hours in surgery fighting for her life and had slept nearly a day. Once she finally opened her eyes, her concern wasn’t for herself. It was for Isabel.
Watching the two of them broke Dutch’s heart.
Isabel nodded as a tear slipped from her eye. “I’m okay. Thanks to Dutch.”
Brenda flashed a weak smile. Then her eyes closed, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.
A sob broke free from Isabel. She turned to Dutch and he brought her into his arms.
“I hate him,” she said in a harsh whisper, her voice brittle. “I hate Emilio so much.” She wept, her body trembling with what he guessed was a mix of sorrow and loathing.
Dutch shushed her, stroking her hair. The cold, hard truth of her words made something in his chest clench.
Would Isabel be able to face her uncle, hide what she’d learned, disguise her feelings? She wasn’t an actress, a professional trained in deception.
Could she still be the asset they desperately needed? Or was she about to become their biggest liability?
* * *
THEY ARRIVED AT Vargas’s place well after sundown, but there was no mistaking the villa was in fact a fortified compound crawling with guards.
Dutch had done his best to prep Isabel on the ride, guiding her in how to behave around her uncle. He hoped it’d alleviate some of his worries, but he’d only reinforced his concerns.
She was too sad, too angry, too volatile—an emotional powder keg waiting for a spark.
The best thing to do was abort, but they were down to the wire. He had to roll the dice, have faith in Isabel and pray this worked out.
After the front gates opened, he drove his truck up the long path.
“I need to know why my uncle killed my father. How could he do such a thing? Over business? They were close. They loved each other. I don’t understand.”
“Money and power are strong motivators. They can make people do ugly, regrettable things.”
Isabel trembled, rubbing her palms on her thighs. She looked fragile, on the cusp of breaking. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
With all the new information thrown at her, he could only imagine how she felt.
“You can do this. You’re going to be fine.” She had to be, or he was as good as dead and there was no telling what Vargas would do to Isabel.