Page 31 of High-Priority Asset

Dutch picked it up, noting the wrist strap, rubberized armor coating and prongs on the end. “Stun baton?”

Turning her head away from him, she looked out at the water. “It’s a deterrent.”

“For whom? Chad Ellis?”

She went ramrod straight. “This has been such a lovely day.” Reaching over, she took his hand in hers and looked at him. “I don’t want to spoil it by talking about him. Please.”

The vulnerability in her touch, her voice, tugged at his heart. Tied his gut into knots. He wanted to take away her pain, to mop up this problem of Ellis like a spill on the floor.

Isabel was an incredible woman, easy to fall for. Not at all the stuck-up princess he’d imagined her to be. If not for this assignment, their paths might never have crossed. He hated the circumstances and the necessary deception that had brought them together but spending time with her made him feel like the luckiest man on the planet.

Dutch put the baton back in her bag. “Okay.” He rubbed her leg to reassure Isabel there was no need to discuss it, but his hand lingered longer than he’d intended. Her skin was so soft, supple as butter. “Hungry?” He started opening the containers of food he prepared.

“Starved.” She flashed a bright smile. “You thought of everything.”

AFTER CHAD PAID the parking fee, he pulled into a spot in the lot on the ridge above the beach. He double-checked that there were no CCTV cameras. Then he glanced down at the phone and read the text messages again.

Isabel: I’m excited, but nervous. Hope you’re a good teacher, Dutch.

Dutch: You’ll do great. Trust me, beautiful. Topanga Beach. 10 a.m.

Isabel: See you later.

ONE NIGHT SEVEN months ago, while Isabel had slept in his bed, Chad had taken her cell phone and the key fob to her car. He’d handed them off to his tech guy who did freelance work under the table. Two hours later, Chad had a clone of the RFID key fob and spyware had been downloaded on her phone. The malicious software gave Chad her GPS location, browser history, text messages, social media chats, emails and the ability to eavesdrop on her phone calls.

She’d been none the wiser. Still wasn’t.

Despite the fact she’d changed her number, the mobile device itself and the SIM card were the same. Until she upgraded her cell, which wasn’t going to be any time soon since he’d encouraged her to get the latest model shortly after they started dating, he was able to surveil her in ways even Olga couldn’t. But the PI filled in the gaps.

If it hadn’t been for Olga, it would’ve taken him days to find out about Dutch.

This was the first time Isabel had sent a message to another man.

Blood burned through his veins again, anger and adrenaline spurring him on.

Chad dialed Olga. She was somewhere down below on the beach. Like any good private investigator, she kept a variety of outfits in her car to blend in wherever she needed to and even had a bicycle in her trunk. “What are they doing?”

“Eating lunch.”

“When they get ready to leave, I want you to film Isabel.”

“I don’t understand,” Olga said.

“Record them saying goodbye and focus the video on Isabel getting into her car and driving off.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you to,” Chad snapped, letting his thinning patience resonate over the line. “No matter what happens, follow the man. Find out where he lives. Get me a full name.”

“What’s going to happen?”

Chad hung up, huffing his irritation. Olga was paid well not to ask questions and to do as she was instructed discreetly.

Before getting out of the car, he pressed down the fake mustache, ensuring it stayed in place, lowered the bill of his ball cap over his wig and slipped on gloves. He grabbed the robin’s-egg-blue Tiffany box that he’d poked air holes in earlier, got out and walked quickly to Isabel’s Maserati.

He hit the cloned key fob. Her lights flashed and the doors unlocked.

Grasping the handle, he opened the door and lowered to one knee. He slipped his little gift of tough love underneath the driver’s seat, flicked off the lid—the faint sound of the box’s inhabitants lifting his spirits enough for him to manage a smile—and slammed the door shut.