Isabel awoke with a start, jackknifing upright in bed. She squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
The dream stayed with her, vivid, in high definition. She remembered being six or seven, Emilio buying her toys, playing with her in the yard, him making her giggle, holding her tight and singing her songs, but only when her father wasn’t at the house.
She closed her eyes and heard Emilio’s voice as if he was beside her. Our little secret, mi hija. Don’t tell I came to visit. Te amo.
The fights between her father and Emilio came back to her, as well.
Isabel is my daughter, her father had said. Don’t ever forget that unless you want a war.
A shudder slipped down her spine.
When she was fourteen, her boarding school in Palo Alto had held a father-daughter dance. Her dad was stuck in Mexico on important business. She’d thrown the worst fit over it, and had said ugly, bratty things to him. Emilio came, not wanting her to be disappointed. But at the end of the dance, her dad had shown up as a surprise. There’d been such tension radiating between them, but her father hadn’t spoken to Emilio that night, not a single word exchanged. Like the calm before a Cat 5 hurricane.
Two weeks later, her father, Luis, was dead.
They hadn’t fought over the cartel. They’d fought over her.
The pain that came from the memories was almost too much to bear, like someone had slammed a dagger in her heart and twisted.
Emilio wasn’t lying. She was a product of infidelity, the cause of violence and revenge. Some truths were too terrible and should never be brought out into the light.
Pandora’s box. He’d warned her and now she wished she never knew.
Releasing a hiss, she brought her knees up to her chest and leaned against the headboard. She wanted to leave the villa that very instant, but she had to stay and see this through. For Dutch. For the marshals who were in danger. And maybe for her own sake, too.
As she got ready for the day, she set aside her personal issues and steeled herself for what had to be done.
She went downstairs, wondering if Emilio would show his face at breakfast.
Pushing through the door that led to the courtyard, she stepped outside and had her answer.
Of course he was there. He was playing host to them and he hadn’t the decency to feel any shame. Emilio sat proud as a peacock, talking to Dutch, speaking in his animated way, waving his hands.
Isabel held her head high and strode to the table. “Good morning.” She kept her tone light and neutral, hiding the enormous burden weighing on her.
Dutch stood, kissed her cheek and handed her the purse she’d forgotten last night. The way she’d rushed from dinner had been clumsy and reckless. She wouldn’t blame him if he was furious with her, but when she glanced at him all she saw was compassion in his eyes.
“I’m pleased you joined us, my dear,” Emilio said and took a sip of his fresh-squeezed orange juice.
“I’m not here for your pleasure. I have to eat.” She sat and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Ah, so you’re still cross with me.” His voice was mild and amused, and it made her want to scream. “I was hoping that tomorrow we could spend the day together. Go shopping, take a walk on the beach.”
As if buying her new clothes and jewelry and taking an oceanside stroll would make everything better. “Prepare for disappointment,” she said. “As soon as I’m done arranging your event, Dutch and I are leaving.”
That wiped the smug look from Emilio’s face. “I understand you’re angry and want to punish me, but not like this. We’re family. I love you, Isabel. You must find a way to embrace what you’ve learned. Or move beyond it. But I won’t let you shut me out.”
Emotions raged inside her. Isabel sucked in air, filling her lungs until she couldn’t take in more. She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, struggling for some semblance of control. Keep it together. You have to do this. “I won’t be getting over it today or anytime soon.”
Rodrigo entered the courtyard, came up to Emilio and whispered in his ear.
“Where do I know that name?” Emilio asked in response.
Again, Rodrigo whispered.
This time, Emilio’s gaze flew up to Isabel and then whipped to Dutch. “Excuse me. I have a phone call I must take.” He stood and walked into the house with Rodrigo following him.
“I’m sorry for losing it last night,” Isabel said, mortified over how distracted and distraught she’d been. A complete wreck almost ruining everything.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dutch unzipped her purse and fished out the special tape.
God, she needed to quit getting sidetracked.
Working quickly, he ripped off a piece of tape, carefully took Emilio’s glass by the top, and pressed the adhesive to where his thumb had been minutes ago.
Dutch peeled off the tape and held the small strip up to the light. There was a clear, solid print.
They got it.
Dutch lowered his hand seconds before the door to the house opened.
Emilio waltzed out with Rodrigo and Max. And two more guards.
She clenched her napkin in her lap. “Is everything all right?”
“I received a call from your ex-boyfriend, the business owner,” Emilio said. “Chad Ellis. He’s concerned about you and had some very interesting things to say.”
Why would Chad call her uncle... Emilio? How did he even know she was there? “You shouldn’t listen to anything he says. Chad hasn’t gotten over the breakup. He’s having difficulty letting go. I’m sure he’s just trying to stir up trouble.” To make her life miserable.
“That may be,” Emilio said. “But I think Dutch can help me get to the bottom of it. Dutch, would you come with me?”
It might’ve sounded like a question, but it was an order.
“Can this wait?” Isabel asked, tension surging through her. “I need Dutch’s help with the final preparations.”
“No, it can’t wait.” Emilio delivered the statement like the crack of a whip. “Max will stay at your side and assist you with anything you need.”
Her stomach plummeted to her toes. The plan was to show Dutch the office and let him take it from there. She wasn’t a marshal or a spy or remotely capable of handling this.
Dutch flashed a cool smile. “It’s okay, Isabel.” He got up and leaned over toward her. As he kissed her cheek, he slipped the strip of tape with the fingerprint into her hand. Then in her ear, he said, “The degausser needs to be in contact for two minutes. Leave me behind.”
Her breath hitched. No, no, no.
She couldn’t do this without him, and she certainly wasn’t leaving him.
Isabel went to grab his arm and keep him there with her, but he stood, moving out of reach.
Dutch looked at Emilio. “There must be a misunderstanding. I’m sure we can clear it up.”
“I hope so.”
The two guards seized Dutch by his arms.
Her pulse skyrocketed. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew it wasn’t good. Dutch was in trouble.
“This is ridiculous. Where are you taking him?” she demanded.
“It’s okay,” Dutch said. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on why you’re here.”
The auction. The hard drive.
She swallowed hard, hating the sensation of being trapped in an impossible situation.
Emilio spun on his heel and stalked back to the house with Rodrigo beside him, and the other guards hauled Dutch along.
What could Chad have said to upset Emilio?
The prospects had her growing lightheaded. With someone as deranged as Chad, there was no telling.
“What’s going on?” she asked Max and sipped her coffee, trying to appear casual instead of freaked out.
He clasped his hands behind his back. With his sunglasses on, she couldn’t read his eyes. “Nothing to concern you. Your uncle wants you to worry about the auction.”
Part of her wanted to follow them and do everything in her power to help Dutch. But she had to think strategically, not based off emotion. This was the opportunity they’d been waiting for. One where her uncle and the main guards would be focused on something away from the office.
If she had any hope of pulling this off, it’d have to be now, while they were distracted, but the one thing they hadn’t accounted for was Max.
“Once you’re done eating,” Max said, “I’ll help you in any way you require. The great room is being set up now per your instructions.”
To hell with breakfast.
“I’ve lost my appetite.” She grabbed her purse and discreetly slipped the piece of tape with the fingerprint on it into an inner compartment of her bag. “Let’s go take a look at the progress.”
EMILIO LED DUTCH downstairs to an empty alcove in the wine cellar. Thanks to the stone walls, it was dank and ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house.
With a flick of his hand, Emilio gestured to his guards.
Someone hit Dutch across the back of the head. The world blurred and he fell off his feet. They slapped handcuffs on Dutch and lifted him from the ground, catching the chain on a hook suspended from the ceiling.
They must’ve used this space for interrogation before. It made sense. There were no windows and the stone walls would act as natural soundproofing.
“Chad Ellis tells me that you’re a US marshal,” Vargas said. “Care to explain?”
Dutch’s head pounded. “Ellis is a psychopath. He’s obsessed with Isabel. He can’t be trusted.”
Rodrigo punched Dutch and pain flared in his jaw. The taste of salty copper hit his tongue.
Vargas held up his cell phone. On the screen was a picture of Dutch, flashing his badge to the cops. “I asked Mr. Ellis to email those to me. He was more than happy to oblige.”
Good old Chad. “Bet he was.” Dutch spit blood from his mouth onto the stone floor.
“He even offered to drop off glossy five-by-sevens personally, but I said that wasn’t necessary.”
Did he follow them down here? Dutch hadn’t been looking for a tail. So stupid of him. He’d been too preoccupied with Isabel, trying to help her contain her emotions, and prepare 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.