Page 23 of Her Chosen Protector

“I got sick of waiting on him, so I have one of my less reputable friends working on this from a different angle. Him, I trust.”

Asher chuckled. “Let me get this right, you trust the untrustworthy guy, but the man we’re supposed to depend on?” He let his voice trail off.

“Carter’s new to me. Since Isaacson got pissed-off and decided to quit, and Worthington retired, I’m nervous. So yeah, my friends who have spent their lives in the shadows are A-plus in my book.”

“Yep, as long as they’re working on the side of the angels, I don’t care about their means and methods,” Asher agreed.

Max pretended like he wasn’t listening.

Must suck to be an officer.

Kane’s satellite phone pinged. He looked at the display, then looked at Asher and Max and said,

“nothing personal,” before he walked away.

Max’s jaw clenched, but that was the only outward sign that he was upset about what was going on. Asher knew he had to be seething with everything that had gone wrong, but Max Hogan would never let his team know that. Instead, he would be the rock that they could all depend on.

“Asher, I know you can open up a space into the gate, but how many can get in at a time?” Max asked.

“One. If we did it where Kane is suggesting, we could do it two at a time, no problem.”

“It’s not worth the risk,” Max’s voice was emphatic. “You have it right, we need to do it around back. You’ll make it work. I want you going through first. The problem is determining who’s going to meet you. I don’t want Nomad personnel to be your reception party.”

He’d been thinking the same thing, but how in the hell were they going to prevent that? “Let me give this a minute of thought. There has to be a way to get this accomplished without running into an ambush.”

“I’ve got something,” Kane said as he returned.

“What?” Max asked.

“Bradshaw is dead. Fucking Carter from CIA doesn’t even know it yet, but there’s been a fire at the Imperial Hotel on Aruba, multiple casualties and one death. It was Bradshaw’s alias. We’re not quite sure when it happened, but it was recent.”

“So, somebody is trying to tie up some loose ends. That only makes it more likely that Nomad was on Maduro’s payroll and that we can’t trust Patel or Carlson,” Asher surmised.

“That’s my take,” Kane agreed.

C H A P T E R 6

Señora Azua hadn’t moved much when Eden had applied a real bandage to her neck, and now she didn’t even flinch when Carlson’s phone rang. That really worried Eden.

“Yes,” Carlson answered tersely. He looked around before putting it on speaker. Can’t say she blamed him, since Schlessinger had been roosting in the office for the last hour. She wouldn’t want him listening in either, not that he could understand Spanish.

“Is this Carlson?” a voice asked.

“Yes, which one are you?”

“This is Asher Thorne. I’m going to be coordinating the entry into the bank. I need to ask a few questions of Señora Azua or one of her employees, preferably one who is familiar with the building layout and security.”

“How are you planning on getting into the bank? We’re surrounded by Maduro’s men,” Carlson demanded to know.

“It’s Mike, right? Mike Carlson?”

“Yes,” Carlson answered slowly.

“Well, Mike. I can’t rightly answer that question since I haven’t spoken to the people who need to provide me with some details I need. Are you going to put them on the phone or not?”

Oh, he’s good. He just shoved that knife right through Carlson’s ribcage straight into his beating heart. Eden had to smother a grin at Carlson’s less than happy expression.

“Señora Azua is resting. I’ll get Hector, he’s the bank manager,” Carlson bit out.