nothing in the file to indicate whether she knew about her uncle’s illicit affairs and turned a blind eye or if she was an innocent, ignorant that he was the leader of Los Chacales.
Face-to-face, she was vivacious and witty and kindhearted.
Damn it, he liked her. He’d been genuinely worried about her and the emotional state that attack might’ve left her in. Any other woman would’ve taken up his offer to at least walk her to the parking garage to make sure she got in her car safely.
Not Isabel. Independent. Strong. Fierce.
Yeah, he really liked her.
“The FBI has much more experience with undercover work than we do,” Draper said, “and that’s the reason we consulted them on how to proceed. It was one of their behavioral analysts who picked you for this, decided the best avenue of approach you should take with her was a romantic one and created the threat scenario that played out with Prindle and the asset.”
Figures it was some profiler, a person with extensive experience assessing victims and diving into the twisted minds of murderers who’d decided this was the right course of action.
Exactly what made him top choice for this assignment?
Maybe it was better if he didn’t know, but there was a glimmer of something real between him and Isabel. He hadn’t planned to tell her about his father and sister, to share intimate information. It’d flowed out of him naturally. No thought, no deception, no steering the conversation. One tiny connection sparked another and another, a flame in dry underbrush kindling unexpectedly on its own.
“Any updates from our contact on the inside?” Dutch asked.
A deep-cover FBI agent who’d infiltrated the organization learned about the plans for the auction set to happen at some unspecified time and got word to the Marshals. Though, this ticking time bomb wasn’t the FBI’s problem and they refused to get further involved, choosing instead to protect their agent’s cover and pursue their own mission objectives.
“No.” Draper shook his head. “As soon as I hear something, I’ll pass it along.”
Allison walked up to the doorway, her long black ponytail swaying behind her. “Did it work? Did Isabel agree to go out with you?”
Dutch folded his arms across his chest. “Not quite.”
“Either you’re in with her or not,” Allison said. “Which is it?”
“I’m in, she just hasn’t agreed to a date yet.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Did you meet the objective?” Allison’s eyebrows drew together, and she stepped deeper into the room. “She has to trust you. According to the profiler’s report, it starts with you helping her in some life-threatening situation. Then there needs to be chemistry. We followed the recommendation by picking you. The only question is, are you the right guy for the job? Is she interested or not?”
Dutch drew in a deep breath. “She is, but cautious. If I push too hard, I’ll lose her. She needed space, so I gave it.”
“How can you be sure that she’s interested and not blowing you off?” Allison asked.
He’d set out to do this assignment with cold detachment and unwavering objectivity, and after spending twenty minutes with Isabel, raw magnetism had punched a hole in his intentions.
That degree of attraction, which was scorching, wasn’t one-sided. Of that, he was sure.
“Trust me—I’ve got her attention.”
“Good.” Allison’s eyes were deadly serious, her composure so calm it was a little irksome. “You better keep it because there are families at risk. My family. I’m the one deputy marshal linked in the database to every witness who has gone into WITSEC as a result of testifying against the Los Chacales cartel.”
“How is that possible?” Dutch asked.
“There have only been three and they were all women in fragile emotional states when the FBI brought them in. During the handover to us, they requested a female marshal to escort them to the safe houses and be on the protection detail until they testified. It was only me and Charlie Killinger in the San Diego office and her bedside manner left much to be desired.”
Dutch had met Charlie out at Camp Beauregard. She ended up being his replacement on the Fugitive Apprehension Response Team. Kickass and fiery, Charlie wasn’t the babysitting, hand-holding type.
“The only one I didn’t protect every day was the last,” Allison said. “Lori Carpenter. She was put in a safe house out in Big Bear for a year waiting for the trial to start. I’ve got a small kid and couldn’t do something long-term like that, but I made the initial drive up and