Chapter 37
Ian Sinclair finished his coffee as he watched Lurch leave the open-air market. The area around the food trailer was sparsely populated, giving him a clean view of anyone who didn’t belong there. Everything looked clear.
When he was sure his teammate would be out of the area, Ian stood, tossed his cup in the trash, and headed for an exit on the opposite side of the market.
Vendors who’d driven in from the countryside were already packing up.
Given the mountain roads, Ian didn’t blame them for wanting to be home before dark.
He adjusted his pace to blend in with the crowd. Taking evasive maneuvers to and from the safe house was second nature, and so was watching everyone and everything around him.
The open-air market was near the convent, and although he was careful not to get too close—not with the arms dealer’s men still running surveillance—he could see the spire of the church glowing white in the afternoon sun.
Cutting farther away from the abbey, Ian scanned the streets and made a circle around the block. That’s when he spotted her.
Ellis Vandenhoff.
She wore a backpack slung over one shoulder, phone in hand, earbuds in—not ideal, but she wasn’t completely oblivious.
She kept glancing up every few seconds, scanning the street in a way she definitely hadn’t the last time he’d had to pull her out of trouble.
She was trying. Just not enough for Trujillo.
Ian swept the area around her and swallowed a curse. Two of Jorge Torres’s men were on her tail. And they were most definitely tailing her. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. Why bother when she was distracted?
Slowing his stride, he dropped back, hoping the men would peel off once they realized Ellis wasn’t a threat to anyone except herself.
His best guess was she’d gotten too close to the convent and caught the attention of the surveillance team.
An American woman in Trujillo drew attention, and after Iona Desmond and the Russians, Torres’s men couldn’t afford to ignore her without verifying she wasn’t a problem.
After a couple of blocks, it became clear the men weren’t breaking off. They were closing the distance, waiting for a quiet place to make their move.
Scowling, Ian knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He cut across the street and caught up to her.
“Get those earbuds out,” he growled.
She didn’t argue. Her hand went up automatically, tugging them free. Only afterward did she scowl at him. Progress. Not enough, but progress.
“Keep walking.” When she slowed, he clasped her elbow and nudged her forward. “You’ve got company, and they’re not following you to ask for a donation to the church.”
“Company?” She didn’t turn—he could practically feel the effort it took her not to—but her shoulders tightened. “I didn’t see anyone matching the gang colors you told me about.”
“Different threat. Two men behind us. Trousers and collared shirts. They work for an arms dealer. Did you walk past the convent?”
She frowned but kept moving. “I stopped in to talk to Mother Teresita. The sisters need help sorting their paintings for storage during the renovation. I volunteered.”
Ian swallowed another curse. “You can’t go to the convent. It’s under surveillance.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is someone watching the convent?” Her tone wasn’t dismissive, it was analytical, trying to understand the threat.
Reluctantly, he admitted, “We don’t know.”
“Then maybe it’s something else,” she said, not arguing, just trying to make sense of it. She wasn’t stupid just out of her depth.
“Does Frankie know where you went?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m an adult, Ian. I don’t need permission from Frankie to visit a convent.”
Instead of answering, Ian focused on the men behind them and on getting Ellis somewhere with a large enough crowd to discourage Torres’s team. The last time he’d needed to rescue her, it had been gang members.
“You’re forcing your guardian angels to work overtime,” he muttered. “One day, you’re going to discover they punched out. What are you going to do then?”
Ellis lifted her chin. “I’m not trying to be reckless. I just didn’t think the convent was dangerous.”
And that was the problem. She wasn’t careless, but she was trusting. Too trusting for a place like Trujillo.
Ian noticed the men were closer now and scanned for options. A city bus stopped beside them, and he hauled her on board, paying as the bus lumbered away, leaving Torres’s men half a block behind.
“Because you are in danger,” Ian said quietly, guiding her to the last open seat. She slid to the window and immediately scanned the aisle, the passengers, the mirrors. Not perfect, but better. She was paying attention now. He settled beside her.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she hissed.
Ian shook his head. She didn’t need a babysitter. She needed someone who understood the world she’d stumbled into. And until she learned its rules, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.