by Addison Fox
Isabella had no doubt the interrogation was designed to wear her down, but she had nothing to give them. She was as puzzled by the events as anyone else and the note she’d discovered in her bag had already been taken into evidence to be checked for fingerprints.
From her perspective, she had no idea how the note had even gotten into her bag. The front pocket had been empty of anything save her passport when she’d boarded the plane. She’d unzipped the zipper and transferred her passport to her purse for the walk through Customs and had left the zipper open.
Over and over, she retraced the time with Liam through her mind. No one had bumped into them. Or even touched them, for that matter.
So when had someone had a chance to slip a paper into her bag?
“Dr. Magnini.” The first detective who’d questioned her smiled broadly. If the gesture was meant to soothe it fell short with its fake and insincere undertones. “Why were you out of the country?”
“I was in London visiting my grandfather. I do that frequently.” Information she’d already shared and which, she had no doubt, they’d already culled from the manifests of her international travel over the last several years.
“Yet you were traveling back with Mr. Steele.”
“His family and mine are old friends.”
“You’ve known Mr. Steele long, then?”
Liam pushed off his position on the wall and came to stand next to her, his hand resting warm on her shoulder. “As Dr. Magnini pointed out, our families are old friends. A simple fact that’s easy enough to verify. I’m curious why you keep pressing it.”
“We’re trying to get a picture of why she’d be in danger. With your line of work, Mr. Steele, it stands to reason a shooter could be after you as easily as they are after Dr. Magnini.”
“True enough.” Liam’s tone grew darker and his hand remained steady against her shoulder, even as his index finger ran over her collarbone in lazy, sweeping motions. Whether to soothe or to suggest something more intimate between them, she didn’t know, but the small motion had set off sparks under her skin and she was having a hard time keeping up.
“Regardless of the reason, it still doesn’t explain why you’ve been interrogating Isabella for almost three hours. Nor does it explain away the fact that she’s answered all your questions, despite the fact you’ve not come up with any new ones since the first fifteen minutes of the discussion.”
“We could hold this meeting downtown.”
“Yet you chose to hold it here which means you know you don’t have enough to keep going with this.”
Words flung back and forth across the table with the ease of arrows and she took it all in, suddenly more grateful than she could ever say for the help of the Steele family.
No matter how many challenges she’d faced in her life, this was simply not something she could handle on her own.
From the touch of his hand to his ready defense and quick answers to the agents, Liam was a force to be reckoned with. Isabella shot a glance toward Kensington, where she sat at the head of the long table, the woman’s presence only adding to that sense of reassurance.
“We’re offering you a courtesy, Mr. Steele.” The second agent piped up. “Your firm has been more than helpful over the years and we’d like to show our gratitude.”
Courtesy, my ass.
If there was anything she’d learned since her father’s disgrace it was that the government did nothing without careful calculation.
Benevolence was a strategy, not a general way of acting.
“We’re taking Dr. Magnini’s security very seriously. No one was injured today and it’s obvious the targeting of us at the airport was deliberate and focused as opposed to an attack that was broader in scope.” Kensington had said little and Isabella got the sense it was driving the woman crazy to stay in the background.
Clearly when she did speak, it was worth the wait. The woman’s words were couched in a pleasant smile that fooled no one, least of all the government’s representatives. Both agents nodded at the thinly veiled reference to terrorist activity and she could see the hard set of their shoulders relax slightly.
Protecting citizens from terrorism took a shocking amount of their time and no one wanted to own the results of not paying the proper attention to a bad situation. Much as she resented the interrogation, she sympathized for the reason.
Her sentiment took a decided turn south when the second agent sat up straighter, a thought clearly registering in the man’s mind. “Dr. Magnini. How well-versed are you in your father’s work?”
“I’m very well acquainted with his work, Agent McCray. It haunts me, as a matter of fact, as does his tarnished reputation.”
“Tarnished?” The first agent raised his eyebrows, interest sparking deep in his eyes at the line of questioning his partner had opened. “That’s a rather lenient description of someone who sold weapons to terrorists and was ultimately tried as a traitor.”
“And the British government prosecuted him fully for his crimes.” Isabella refused to drop her gaze or allow it to waver for the slightest moment. She’d lived with the pain of her father’s choices her entire adult life, but never before had she felt such a deep-seated humiliation in front of others.
No matter how she tried to distance herself, she’d never be free of it. How funny, then, that in her attempts to understand where she came from through her research, she’d virtually scripted the current circumstances she found herself in.
With a weariness born of the absolute weight of her father’s betrayal, she stood, effectively ending the conversation. She’d learned to live with the humiliation, but she was unwilling to expose the good people who’d offered their help. “I believe both Liam and Kensington have been more than accommodating, holding the meetings here in their home. As Mr. Steele mentioned, you have no right to keep me, asking the same question over and over. It’s an imposition on my time as well as on my friends.”
The agents stood in kind and Isabella relished the small victory.
“I’ll see you out.” Jack piped up from next to Kensington and ushered the interlopers from the house.
Kensington kept her lips pursed and offered up a subtle shake of her head, pointing toward the open doorway. It was only when they heard the heavy slam of the front door that she finally spoke.
“That was fun.” Kensington let out a heavy breath before getting up and walking toward the sideboard. Although Isabella hadn’t paid much attention since walking in, her full focus on answering the officials’ questions, she took in the room now that the immediate threat had receded.
They appeared to be in a large dining room, converted to a meeting room. The dining room furniture was still intact, but so were several bookshelves and a low credenza that looked like a filing cabinet.
Liam’s gaze swung to hers. “Are you doing okay?”
The low hum of adrenaline that had stayed constant in her bloodstream for the past three hours took a nosedive, and whatever polite veneer she’d managed to drum up vanished in the blink of an eye.
Legs heavy with pent-up anger, she slammed her chair back, catching the wooden arms just before the chair fell out of reach.
“How the hell can you ask me that? Not only am I now being shot at in public venues by a madman but I’ve put the very people who are trying to help me in the crosshairs as well.”
“We can handle this.”
He laid a hand on her arm but she shrugged off the comfort, backing away from the table. “How? By personally escorting me? Because fat lot of good that did since I ended up with a threatening note in my luggage all the while standing right beside you!”
Each word she spoke ratcheted up louder and louder until she felt the heavy prick of tears at the backs of her eyes and a matching telltale knot in her throat. “Excuse me.”
And
then she ran.
* * *
Liam was on her heels before his sister snagged his arm, dragging him to a halt. “Kenzi—”
“I’ll go.” The usual fire he saw in her gaze—the one that telegraphed how much she enjoyed tangling with him on every subject under the sun—was nowhere in evidence. Instead, all he saw was the sincere notes of sympathy. “Let me talk to her.”
Where a good old-fashioned fight between siblings would have only fired him up more, the simple understanding in her gaze was his undoing. “Fine. Go.”
Jack walked back into the room, obviously keyed into the conversation. “What happened?”
“Adrenaline and a dose of female tears.” Kensington kissed her fiancé on her way out the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Liam watched his sister go and it took everything in him to avoid following her. Jack crossed to the credenza. “Drink?”
“No. I had a couple on the plane.”
“Suit yourself. But, since that was several hours ago and the house is locked down, you may want to reconsider.”
Liam eyed the bottle of wine Jack held up and shook his head. “I’m good.”
Jack fiddled with the cork, saying nothing until he had the bottle open and a glass swirling in his hands. “They don’t have a case. It’s pretty clear today’s incident wasn’t a terrorist act, perpetrated against innocent Americans.”
“No, damn it, just one innocent American.” Liam flipped through the business cards the various officers and agents had left behind, disgust curdling in his stomach like bad fish. “Damn Feds. They’re going to be after this one like a dog with a bone.”
“She doesn’t have anything for them on that front. And despite her history, she’s an American citizen with an impressive record of professional work. They’ll tire soon enough.” Jack took a seat. “What she does have is someone who doesn’t want her to share her research. But the bastard’s going to have some fun with her for a while.”
Jack’s words only reinforced his existing fears, all while confirming a few more. “So it’s not just me who feels like it’s a game.”
“It’s personal, Liam. And the only way we’re going to protect her is to figure out who it is.”
He wadded up the business cards, tossing them in the trash. “She doesn’t believe anyone’s out to get her.”
“Kensington and I did some digging earlier. Nothing’s popped yet but she’s looking. And you know as well as I do, no one hides from your sister for long.”
Liam knew the depth of his sister’s skills. Campbell might have the electronics work down cold, but Kensington was a whiz at digital forensics. Between the databases she subscribed to and the ones Campbell got her into, once she was there she knew how to tug leads and pull just the right strings to unravel a mystery.
If there was something to find on who might be after Isabella, his sister could get after it.
But even Kenzi’s skills couldn’t change one simple fact. “She’s alone in the world, Jack. Who the hell could be after her?”
“Old boyfriend jealous of her success?”
That sour feeling in his stomach turned decidedly rancid at the idea of Isabella with a boyfriend. She was a grown woman, he well knew, but the idea of her with someone else...
He pushed the image from his mind and focused on the core of Jack’s question. “It doesn’t play. There’s been no personal contact made. A former flame would want her to know it’s him. Would want that gratification to express his love, even if it was a twisted way to do it.”
“Colleague? Someone jealous of her work and the funding it received?”
“All her research has been funded off of an inheritance.”
“Generous dead guys don’t exactly scream connection.” Jack swirled his wine once more, his gaze drawn to the dark red liquid. “But those overlooked for the inheritance do.”
“I tried that angle but she can’t think of anyone. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she’s too close to it.” Liam tapped his fingers on the desk before reaching for one of the empty wine glasses Jack had left on the middle of the table and the bottle of wine.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you too close to this?”
“Hell no.”
“You sure?”
Liam set the bottle back on the table with a hard thud. “Positive.”
“She trusts you.”
“She needs to trust all of us. We’re the only thing that stands between her and whoever wants to keep her from presenting her work.”
* * *
Edward stowed the gun back under the front seat of his car and rubbed the ache in his thigh as he waited for the parking attendant to come give him a valet ticket. The luxury car had worked like a dream at the airport.
Although the police had the garage on lockdown, carefully reviewing anyone who wanted to leave, it was quick work to show them his traveling papers and his credentials from the university. Between the faked travel itinerary and the fancy car, he was on his way with barely a second glance.
It didn’t hurt he’d already worked the camera feeds at the airport and in the garage while he’d waited for Isabella’s flight to arrive. No one knew he’d gone in or out of the garage that afternoon and he’d already re-set the feed so no one would. He’d taken particular pride in the timed footage he’d captured on an alternate feed, re-tagged in the system to show Liam Steele entering the garage as he gave chase.
Edward took the ticket from the parking attendant and grabbed his bags from the back of the car. His thighs ached and he ignored the burn as he dragged his bags behind him. The pain served him right and acted as a not-so-subtle reminder.
The events at the airport had been a bit too close for comfort and he was still mad at himself for the near fumble on that one. There were few systems he couldn’t hack but the airport’s video feed was state of the art. He’d fiddled so long with it he almost missed Isabella’s arrival. Which had further rushed the stunt with the note and his ability to get out of sight and get off a good shot.
Damned Steele family reunion.
He’d done his homework on them, too, and they might look all “rich, happy family playing at the security game” but they had some decent skills between them.
So he’d rushed and missed the best part. What he wouldn’t give for a picture of Isabella when she’d discovered his note. Oh man, would that have been sweet, but he’d have to live with the memory of watching her from a distance.
The thought went a long way toward assuaging the pain and he couldn’t hold back the smile as he turned up his block. He imagined her subtle panic and confused expression as she found the note, then read it, just before a bullet went winging her direction.
He’d already disguised his appearance and it had been easy enough to slip it into her tote when the Steeles were busy celebrating their little reunion. But it was his knowledge of Isabella and her manic desire for uniformity and order that had her pulling the note from her bag right then and there, setting everything in motion.
He knew her. Had observed her for years.
And because he knew her, he could use her weaknesses against her.
Edward nodded a greeting to his doorman as he walked into his building, then beelined for the elevator. He stifled the yawn that threatened once he was inside the car and focused on what came next.
He and the Doc had some momentum and surprise on their side and there was no way they’d give that up.
Even though he desperately needed to rest.
The elevator pinged and he stepped off, dragging himself toward his apartment. Maybe he would sleep a little. A late night always set him back and he couldn’t afford the loss of strength right now.
Better yet, maybe he’d take a day. The Doc was busy with hi
s own plans and besides, Isabella’s meeting with the journalists was still more than a week away.
They had time.
Rest, then action.
He dragged himself under the covers and rubbed at his legs that had suddenly begun to throb in earnest. With the backward counting technique she’d taught him to work through the pain, he thought about the woman he knew.
Brilliant. Flawless in her research. And fundamentally incapable of dealing with the world around her.
She was a woman who consoled herself with work. It was the one thing she did well so she’d made it her life, to the exclusion of most anything else.
Oh yes, he knew Isabella.
And he’d set trigger points at every place she might visit now that she was back home.
As he fell asleep he imagined her panic when she found the little surprise he’d left waiting for her in her lab.
Chapter 8
Isabella glanced around the small library, curious in spite of herself. She’d always imagined what the inside of a real New York brownstone would look like, but until her arrival at the House of Steele headquarters a few hours ago, she’d never been inside one.
Her mind already whirled with the details of the room, cataloguing memories as she paced. The activity kept her mind busy as she worked to process the events of the day.
But no matter how elegant the room’s drapes or how fascinating the rows of books on the shelves that lined the walls, she couldn’t escape from the reality of what had happened.
Someone had snuck up on her at the airport and planted the note and then proceeded to shoot at all of them. Her work had put them all at risk.
She had put them all at risk.
“Mind if I come in?”
Kensington stood in the open doorway and Isabella waved her in. “Of course not. I was just admiring your home.”
“Do you know the story of it?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Come sit with me and I’ll fill you in. After, of course, we get a bit of wine.” Kensington crossed to a small, hidden bar that was barely visible where it was tucked away in a corner and pulled out a bottle. “Red okay?”
