for how things might go. He hadn’t considered the possibility. “Is Ellis in San Diego?”
“I’m the one asking the questions. Why are you here?”
“Ellis is dangerous.” Dutch had underestimated him and look at where that had gotten him.
Vargas gave a curt nod. Rodrigo hit Dutch in the gut and a sharp pang shot through him.
“Why are you here?” Vargas asked. “Is it to stop the auction?”
“I’m here because you hired me to protect Isabel and invited me.”
“Does Isabel know what you are?” Vargas asked.
Dutch shook his head. “No. She doesn’t.”
“Are you the one who told her the truth about me?”
“It was the Guzman cartel,” Dutch said, determined to stick with the lie.
Another fist connected with his jaw.
“Anyone worth asking in the Guzman cartel is dead,” Vargas said. “But I can’t take your word for it. Not until I’ve broken you. When I do, you’ll tell me everything I want to know.”
The other two guards replaced Rodrigo and took turns punching Dutch in the sides, making his ribs and lungs ache.
“You don’t have to,” Dutch said, coughing. “Go to extremes. I’m a straight shooter.”
“Not yet, but you will be. Even if it takes hours. Days. Eventually, everyone breaks.”
Vargas had a point. Everyone’s body did break, literally, but the spirit was a different beast, different rules.
A blow to his kidneys sent stabbing pain in a fiery arc across his back.
“You marshals have been a vexing thorn in my side, protecting my enemies and traitors.” Vargas circled him. “Helping them testify against me, trying to dismantle my business. But the people coming here tonight to buy that hard drive will gladly root you out for me. And they’ll pay me in the process. A firestorm from hell is about to rain down on every single marshal, not only in the San Diego office, but the entire state, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“Smart to get others to do your dirty work. Keep your hands clean. But I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dutch had to stall long enough for Isabel to complete the mission, prevent the sale and get away.
During the car ride down here, he’d talked her through a worst-case scenario. If she got off the compound and made it to the rendezvous point four miles away off Del Mar Heights Road, where Allison and Draper were waiting, it’d be worth every bruise, broken bone and scar.
As for Dutch, he’d trained for this in the army. Delta Force had fortified him, had ingrained one thing in him above all else. SERE—survival, evasion, resistance, escape.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the great room, Isabel told the staff where to place the remainder of the furniture and discussed lighting and music and ways to drive bids higher. For two hours, she gave directions on autopilot because as it turned out, Emilio was right. She could do this blindfolded, but all she thought about was Dutch, what was happening to him, and how to get clear from Max and up to Emilio’s office.
Ten polished mahogany tables were set up, displaying sculptures, paintings and pieces of antiquity such as a spectacular fossilized gem of opalescent ammonite and a sought-after Roman coin, an ides-of-March denarius minted to celebrate the assassination of Julius Caesar. The items would catch the attention of any serious collector, but there was no reason for her uncle to sell them unless he was facing bankruptcy, which he wasn’t.
The tenth table didn’t have any art, only a laptop.
That was for the hard drive and to show off its contents. It had to be.
“It’s always nice when I get to spend time with you,” Max said, glued to her side.
Moving away from him around a table, she pulled on a polite smile. “That’s sweet. You know, the caterer should be here any minute. Could you check the kitchen and see if they’re prepared?”
They were using a vendor to supply the food and drinks, but only Emilio’s personal staff was permitted on the premises during the auction. For security reasons.
Max’s eyes flashed up to hers as a grin spread across his face. “I’m sure they’re ready. Your uncle has such high standards.”
Uncle. She had no idea how to think of Emilio. The very idea of him stirred conflicting emotions, dredged up uncomfortable memories that she had blocked out. But when she thought of him alone with Dutch, doing only God knows what to him, there was only impotent rage coupled with a pervasive sense of dread.
She couldn’t lose Dutch. The connection between them had been