Page 72 of High-Priority Asset

He kissed her forehead. “Late. Almost ten.”

“I can’t believe I slept so long.”

“You were exhausted and needed the rest. I crept out around dawn and took McQueen for a quick walk.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his chest and sat up. “About last night. I needed to feel better, to lose myself for a little while, and you were there for me. I appreciate it. But I haven’t made a decision about us and what I want to do.”

“That’s understandable. I don’t want you to feel rushed, but you’ll need to know by the time we take the hard drive.”

She nodded. “I’m going to shower and dress. I want to go to the hospital and see Brenda.”

“You need to call your uncle and give us a reason to go down today.”

“My uncle’s turf war has given us the best excuse. I’ll need to finish the preparations on-site since I can’t work from the office. Come to think of it, you should speak to him. If he knows about the attempted hit on my life, he’ll welcome us with open arms.”

“All right.” He waited until she was in the shower and dug out the card that Vargas had given him at the club. Punching in the number on his cell, he considered whether to tell her uncle about Chad Ellis. The man was a threat but sharing that with Vargas had to be Isabel’s choice, not Dutch’s. The last thing she would want was for him to make decisions for her.

“Who is this?” her uncle answered.

“Dutch Haas. I’m not calling with good news.”

“My niece hasn’t pushed back on you being her bodyguard, has she?”

“No, it’s not that. Unfortunately, she learned why she needs one. The Guzman cartel made a move on her. They sent her a pig’s head with an ace of spades. Then they shot up her art gallery. Her best friend, Brenda Reaver, survived, but had to go through surgery.”

“Damn it,” Vargas growled over the line. “Is Isabel all right?”

“More or less. Physically she’s fine, but she’s quite shaken up. After what’s happened, she wants to come to San Diego to take her mind off things and finish the preparations for your event.”

“Yes, of course. Shall I send a helicopter for you?” Vargas asked.

“No, thanks. We’ll drive.” Dutch rubbed his forehead. “You said you were going to handle the Guzman problem.”

“And I am. I’ll move up the strike I have planned to tonight. Going after Isabel won’t be tolerated. Retaliation must be swift and 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?