Max stepped up to her. Flipping the switch on the baton, she jammed it up toward him.
But he caught her by the wrist, not going for the baton itself as a typical attacker would naturally. There was a special grab-guard stun strip carrying an electric current that would shock anyone attempting to take it. Unfortunately, Max wasn’t typical.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said in a low, flat voice.
Bright electric current pulsated and crackled from the tip of the Pacifier.
“Shut it off and put it back in your purse,” he said, and she did as he demanded. “Dutch is in the cellar. You should hurry.”
She scrunched her face in confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”
“If you can convince your uncle to let him go, I’ll have his truck ready out front for you and ensure the gate is open.”
Was this a trick? Was he going to double-cross her and use this to get in tighter with Emilio? “Why are you helping me?”
He shepherded her to the door. “Because you’re a good person and you need it.”
A thousand questions rushed through her head. “What about the other guards? Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Heads will roll, but not mine. I’m Teflon. Nothing sticks to me.” He put his hand on the knob. “Your uncle loves you, Isabel. More than you know. He’d do anything for you, which gives you the power. If you want to get Dutch out alive, use that love like a weapon.”
What did he mean? How was she supposed to do that?
Max cracked the door open, peered out and then ushered her into the hall and down the stairs. He gave her a nod, like they were on the same team, and they went in separate directions.
She hustled to the basement door and flew down the steps barefoot, not wanting to alert Emilio of her presence too soon.
Once she reached the stone floor, the sound of flesh beating against flesh echoed in the corridor, making her quicken her pace. Fear for Dutch flooded her.
She followed the sounds and hesitated before going around the bend. Gathering her strength, Isabel put on her shoes and took a deep breath. She rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of Dutch. Hanging from a hook, bloody and bruised.
“Isabel,” Emilio said, his face growing pale. “You shouldn’t be down here. I don’t want you to see this.”
He rushed to her, taking her by the arm and dragging her around the corner.
“Don’t touch me.” She yanked free of him. “Why are you beating him?”
“He’s a US marshal. Spying on me through you. Did you know?”
“Of course not.”
He eyed her as if trying to gauge her credibility. The doubt in his eyes was clear. “Go back upstairs. Let me handle this and tomorrow—”
“I’m not going anywhere without him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let him go, my dear.”
As she straightened, their gazes locked. She wanted to curse at him. To slap him. To scream at him for every awful thing he’d ever done. But there was only one way to get through to him and that was by using her wits. She drew on her anger, her hatred, her pain and even her love for Emilio, and she knew what to do.
“If he’s a marshal like you claim,” she said, “then obviously they know he’s here. Right? If he disappears, that’s only going to cause trouble for you. Let him go and at most, one of your minions gets charged with assault, but I’ll tell Dutch not to pursue it.”
He considered what she’d said. “After the auction, I’ll release him. All right?”
Once the auction started, Emilio would find his safe empty. It wouldn’t take him long to connect the dots to her. After he discovered that she’d erased the drive, he might not hesitate to kill Dutch out of sheer anger. “I’m not waiting. If you don’t uncuff him right now and let us leave, I’ll never give you what you want most.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And what’s that?”
“For me to call you Father.” She let that hang in the air. The impact on him was immediate and splashed all over his face, but she had to dig deeper. “I remember your secret visits when I was little, how you played with me, always found ways to make me smile, how you used to tell me that you’d give me the world if you could.”
“I thought you’d forgotten.” His voice was forlorn. “I tried to