Page 76 of Gabriel: Duke of Bencalor

“No vest for you?” Quinn asked.

“It’s un­der my shirt, but he’s not go­ing to shoot at us. Your vest is purely sym­bolic.” He tossed a key to her. “You’ll drive while I nav­i­gate.”

What did Dupont want with her?

The ques­tion be­came more ter­ri­fy­ing as she drove Mikel’s black SUV while her boss gave her di­rec­tions and scanned for sus­pi­cious ac­tiv­ity. Sweat soaked Quinn’s T-shirt un­der­neath the bul­let­proof vest. Only the fact that Mikel held a Glock on his thigh with ca­sual ex­per­tise kept her from stop­ping the car and bolt­ing into the trees on the road­side.

They left the high­way and wound along a two-lane road with the foothills of Cal­eva’s soar­ing vol­canic moun­tain range on the right and rolling farm­land on the left.

“Left here,” Mikel said. “Then take the next right.”

The left took them onto a nar­row but paved coun­try road. The right led onto a rut­ted dirt lane that set the SUV sway­ing on its sus­pen­sion. When they came to a place where the road widened to ac­com­mo­date the turnoff for a gate, Mikel said, “Turn the truck around and park fac­ing back down the road.”

Quinn did a three-point turn and cut the ig­ni­tion. Mikel laid his Glock on the floor at his feet. He pressed his thumb against the con­sole be­tween the seats and lifted out an­other hand­gun, which he placed by Quinn’s feet. He flicked the switch that killed the car’s over­head lights. “We’ll leave the doors slightly ajar for quick ac­cess. We both have key fobs, so ei­ther one of us can start the car.”

Now Quinn’s palms were sweat­ing. She rubbed them down the sides of her thighs and nod­ded.

“Let’s take a walk.” Mikel swung open his door and leaped lightly out of the high ve­hi­cle.

Quinn sucked in a deep breath that did noth­ing to slow her speed­ing heart rate and opened her own door.

Mikel waited be­hind the car. En­ergy rolled off him in waves, and Quinn re­al­ized that he was en­joy­ing him­self. “Está loco,” she mut­tered un­der her breath.

“No. One step closer to catch­ing the bas­tard who or­ches­trated el duque’s ab­duc­tion,” Mikel said as he started walk­ing.

Quinn fell in be­side him, her head swivel­ing back and forth be­tween the two pas­tures on ei­ther side of them. All she saw were red­dish brown cows. The lane climbed a hill in front of them, so she couldn’t see what lay be­yond in that di­rec­tion.

As they crested the hill, an­other black SUV came into sight. It sat mo­tion­less in the cen­ter of the lane about fifty feet from where the road flat­tened out again. The win­dows were tinted, though, so there could have been one per­son in­side or eight. She prayed for one.

“Stop,” Mikel com­manded. He crossed his arms and planted his feet wide apart, the body lan­guage of a man who had no in­ten­tion of tak­ing an­other step.

Sec­onds ticked by. An oc­ca­sional moo drifted on the breeze that rus­tled the grass in the pas­tures. A jet crossed low in the sky, its muted roar tem­po­rar­ily fill­ing Quinn’s ears.

When the pas­sen­ger side door of Dupont’s car swung open, she jumped.

Not good.

What had her fa­ther al­ways said? Be the per­son you’re sup­posed to be.

So who was she? She was Mikel’s pro­fil­ing and data re­search ex­pert…with an at­ti­tude. She gave a lit­tle nod. She could pull that off.

A man climbed out of the car. His sil­ver hair gleamed in the sun­shine, while his black jacket and trousers seemed to kill the light. He waved his hand, and the car re­versed down the lane at high speed un­til it was a hun­dred yards away, and Jean-Pierre Dupont stood soli­tary in the mid­dle of the road.

Mikel gave a low chuckle. “He’s got to be pissed that he gave us the high ground. He didn’t check the to­pog­ra­phy when he chose the site.”

Dupont didn’t move.

“He is go­ing to make us go to him.” Mikel shrugged and started down the hill.

Quinn lifted her chin and put a lit­tle swag­ger into her gait. Ex­pert with an at­ti­tude.

As they drew closer, Quinn saw that Dupont was hold­ing some­thing in his right hand. “Is that a gun?” she asked Mikel un­der her breath.

“No, it’s a wand. He’s go­ing to check us for weapons.”

“Do we get to check him too?”

“There’s no point. His driver un­doubt­edly has a small ar­se­nal in the SUV. Dupont is not go­ing to hurt us here. He came to us on our home turf.”

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