She went to see Dutch herself. She did not tell Rafe first.
She knew he would have stopped her. Not because he didn't trust her -- he did, more than she sometimes felt she'd earned -- but because protecting her had become instinct for him and instinct doesn't always leave room for reason.
She found Dutch at his legitimate business, a hardware supply warehouse on the north side of town. She walked in at ten a.m. on a Monday and asked the woman at the desk if Dutch was available. The woman looked at her for a long moment and then picked up a phone.
He came out himself. He looked at her with the calm assessment of a man who had not survived twenty-two years in his position by being rattled.
"Miss Marsh."
"Mr. Dutch. I'd like five minutes."
He gestured to a small office off the warehouse
