Page 14 of Her Chosen Protector

She started tearing it into strips. Now she just had to figure out how to hold the makeshift bandage in place tightly enough without strangling the woman.

“How is the Señora?” a man asked over her shoulder.

“Who are you?” Carlson demanded to know.

“I am Hector Ruiz, I am the manager of the bank. I need to know what to do next, but if Señora Azua can’t give us instructions, then I will need to take charge.”

Eden snorted. Yeah, sure, the bank manager’s going to save us. There was no way that Carlson was going to let banker boy take command.

“I’m fine,” Señora Azua whispered. “Tell them to get the gates closed now.”

Eden was the only one who heard her.

“She says she’s fine, and close the gates.”

Carlson yelled out in Spanish across the courtyard for the gates to be closed.

“Those are my employees, you shouldn’t be telling them what to do. Since the Señora is injured, I need to be put in charge—you understand this, si?” He ignored Eden, focusing on Carlson.

“We just need to get shit done,” Carlson growled.

Suzanne squeezed Eden’s arm again and she bent to listen to her. But she just gasped for breath.

“You see? Everyone must listen to me. It is the only answer.”

I hate these weasel types.

Time for some quick pushy bullshit. Eden again leaned down, and this time pretended that Suzanne had said something.

“Excuse me, Hector, but Señora Azua just said that she’s the owner of this bank, and that if you pull this stunt she’ll fire you when this is over with. Do you want to come over here and talk to her yourself?”

Carlson wiped his hand over his mouth. Eden knew damn good and well he was smothering a grin. She stole a glance at Suzanne. Her eyes were spitting fire at the officious little toad. He backed up a step.

“My apologies, Señora, I was only trying to assist you. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Suzanne squeezed Eden’s arm, and Eden bent down to listen to her.

“You and Carlson,” she gasped.

“I’ll be back,” Eden assured her.

Leland Hines, Heinrich Becker, and Maurice Schlessinger had all descended on Carlson. Well, at least Schlessinger did—he practically fell into his arms, still a blubbering mess, demanding to know what was going on. Leland pulled him off Carlson and handed him off to the man who Eden knew as Patel. That was when she realized that the third SUV was not in the courtyard.

Ah, dammit. No! There were good people out there. Please God, say they’re alive and safe.

She turned around so she could join in on the conversation. She came in when Leland Hines was talking.

“Bradshaw was positive that neither Maduro nor Guaido would come after us like this,” Leland’s lip curled.

“Well, he was dead wrong, wasn’t he?” Carlson said with disgust. “It was the secret police all right. Hell, they were wearing their uniforms. The bastards.”

“What? What is he saying?” Schlessinger demanded in French. Eden could care less; she was busy translating Carlson’s Spanish into German for Heinrich Becker. But she held up her hand, holding her fingers close together indicating she’d tell him shortly.

“How bad is Señora Azua?” Becker asked in German. “This is her bank, she told us to come here, we need her leadership.” Eden knew not to repeat the question in Spanish since Hector was still hanging around.

“It’s a flesh wound. I think the bleeding has stopped, but she’s hard to understand, and she needs rest. But trust me, she has all of her faculties, and we don’t need that self-important bank manager trying to take charge.”

Becker gave a sharp nod of agreement. “Speak for her. You know what she would say. You’ve been translating for all of us for weeks now. You have common sense. When it comes to the schematics of the bank, we’ll figure it out.”