Page 73 of High-Priority Asset

The woman had been shot twice, spent four hours in surgery fighting for her life and had slept nearly a day. Once she finally opened her eyes, her concern wasn’t for herself. It was for Isabel.

Watching the two of them broke Dutch’s heart.

Isabel nodded as a tear slipped from her eye. “I’m okay. Thanks to Dutch.”

Brenda flashed a weak smile. Then her eyes closed, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

A sob broke free from Isabel. She turned to Dutch and he brought her into his arms.

“I hate him,” she said in a harsh whisper, her voice brittle. “I hate Emilio so much.” She wept, her body trembling with what he guessed was a mix of sorrow and loathing.

Dutch shushed her, stroking her hair. The cold, hard truth of her words made something in his chest clench.

Would Isabel be able to face her uncle, hide what she’d learned, disguise her feelings? She wasn’t an actress, a professional trained in deception.

Could she still be the asset they desperately needed? Or was she about to become their biggest liability?

THEY ARRIVED AT Vargas’s place well after sundown, but there was no mistaking the villa was in fact a fortified compound crawling with guards.

Dutch had done his best to prep Isabel on the ride, guiding her in how to behave around her uncle. He hoped it’d alleviate some of his worries, but he’d only reinforced his concerns.

She was too sad, too angry, too volatile—an emotional powder keg waiting for a spark.

The best thing to do was abort, but they were down to the wire. He had to roll the dice, have faith in Isabel and pray this worked out.

After the front gates opened, he drove his truck up the long path.

“I need to know why my uncle killed my father. How could he do such a thing? Over business? They were close. They loved each other. I don’t understand.”

“Money and power are strong motivators. They can make people do ugly, regrettable things.”

Isabel trembled, rubbing her palms on her thighs. She looked fragile, on the cusp of breaking. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

With all the new information thrown at her, he could only imagine how she felt.

“You can do this. You’re going to be fine.” She had to be, or he was as good as dead and there was no telling what Vargas would do to Isabel.

He drove around the elegant circular driveway with a large fountain in the middle.

Rodrigo stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the main building and greeted them. He opened Isabel’s door, and helped her from the vehicle.

Dutch cut the engine and came around the front of the truck.

“Keys,” Rodrigo said to him. “I’ll have it parked.” He gestured off to the side where several black SUVs sat in front of a four-bay garage. “We’ll have your things brought up to your rooms.”

Dutch tossed him his keys.

“Rooms?” Isabel asked, emphasizing the s.

“Your uncle would prefer if you two didn’t share a room. It’s old-fashioned, I know, but he won’t bend on it.”

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms. “I can’t wait to give him a piece of my mind.”

Great. One more thing to poke the bear, Dutch thought.

“I’ve got to pat you down,” Rodrigo said.

Nodding, Dutch extended his arms. Since he’d expected a pat down and to have his things searched, he’d given Isabel the degausser and the forensic lifting tape to get her uncle’s fingerprint. She’d stashed both in her purse.