Page 24 of Her Chosen Protector

“Actually,” Eden interrupted. “I spoke to the Señora before she went to sleep. She said that we should find the guard named Torres, he would be the best one to help us get information. It sounded like Hector was more of a bureaucrat.”

“Hi, Eden,” Asher said.

Yay, I got a pleasant voice. Screw you, Mike. See, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

I’m loving Carlson’s pissed-off expression.

“Why didn’t she tell all of us?” Carlson asked as he pointed to Leland and waved his hand toward the door where Becker was outside avoiding Schlessinger.

“She can’t strain her voice,” Eden explained. “What’s more, the three of you were talking amongst yourselves.”

“It’s true, we were,” Leland confirmed.

“Stay on track,” Asher coached them. “I need some inside help. Get this Torres guy.”

“I’ll go,” Eden said. She wanted a chance to see if Chairman Becker was out whispering with Dr.

Nilsson. Or worse yet, was he on his phone making calls to Maduro’s men? Dammit, she needed a

spy of her own to keep track of both Carlson and Becker in case one or both were bad guys.

“Hurry up,” Carlson ordered.

She rolled her eyes at him and hurried out of the room. At least as fast as her pencil skirt allowed her to go.

There in one of the office cubicles, she spotted Heinrich Becker with Gerta Nilsson. She hoped that since Kaito Nakamura was with them that she was wrong, and they weren’t in cahoots with Maduro. Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t trying to figure out a way to sell everyone out and have the secret police smear them into the ground like roadkill.

Okay, I need to quit obsessing and focus on finding Torres. Suzanne promised me he would be excellent. And I want excellent. Asher seems excellent. Please say I’m right. Please say I’m not just spitting in the wind.

Eden saw two men coming out of the door at the far end of the open office area. One was kind of small, the other looked big and mean. She hoped that the big and mean one was Torres. She headed their way. Big and mean looked up at her and smiled.

“Hello,” Eden started in Spanish. “I’m Eden York and Señora Azua has been telling me wonderful things about the guards here at her bank.”

The small man frowned. “Where is the Señora?” he asked.

“She is resting in her office, she’ll—”

“How badly is she injured?” the man persisted.

“Not too bad. As long as infection doesn’t set in or her throat doesn’t swell up, she’ll be fine.”

“We need to get her to the hospital.” He looked over to big and mean. “Marco, I want you up on the roof. I want a count of exactly how many men, vehicles, and snipers are surrounding us. You have twenty minutes to get that report back to me.”

The big and mean Marco hopped to it by immediately turning back to the door that led to the stairs, which Eden assumed led to the roof.

The guard, who clearly knew his stuff, rubbed his right temple. “Thank you for taking care of Señora Azua, she is a fine lady.”

Eden held out her hand and the man took it. “I’m sorry, where are my manners?” he asked with a small smile. “My name is Angelo Torres. Normally I supervise the guards on the night shift. I volunteered to work today because it is Carnival.”

Eden felt herself relax. Suzanne had been right, this was the guy. “How much trouble are we in?”

she asked.

“A lot. I’ll know more after Marco reports, but we’re in for a great deal of trouble. What I don’t understand is why Maduro’s men haven’t launched a full-on assault and just taken the Señora, you, and the other bankers. This makes no sense to me…unless.”

He stroked the wispy stubble on his chin.

After waiting patiently for almost a minute, Eden lost it. “Unless what, Angelo?”