Amusement bubbled through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d competed against food for a woman’s attention and lost. Here, with Isabelle Scott, there wasn’t even a competition. And he was not coming out the winner.
“No packets of instant hot chocolate for you, I’m guessing.” He grinned when her eyes opened all the way so she could glare at him. “I’ll take that as a no.”
She checked her smartphone and glanced around the room as if ticking off a mental checklist. Then she took another sip of her drinking chocolate, obviously enjoying it. And ignoring him.
Well, that wouldn’t do.
“Did you want to make yourself a sandwich or shall I put all this back in the refrigerator?” He tipped his head to indicate the table full of sandwich fixings since he was apparently double fisting beverages.
Nonalcoholic beverages.
It might be another first. Actually, he was fairly certain it was.
“Leave it, please.” She unzipped her duffel bag, letting it sit open enough to reach inside and pull things out quickly. “I’ll make myself a sandwich after I’ve finished this.”
“No rush.” He chuckled. Placing his two beverages on the table, he took a seat in front of his sandwich and began his meal. “So what’s the ratio for drinking chocolate as compared to hot chocolate?”
He only partially cared. What was more fascinating was that she knew. And apparently, was discerning when it came to her chocolate intake.
“Hot chocolate is one part chocolate to two parts milk. Drinking chocolate is one part chocolate to one part milk.” She hesitated. Sipped. “The shop I stopped in makes other special drinks. Today’s was a salted caramel hot chocolate or drinking chocolate. But I decided to get the classic for starters.”
He found himself grinning again. It seemed to happen often with her and he’d only encountered her less than twenty-four hours ago. “So you plan to visit the shop again.”
“Maybe. It’s one of the places where I can see something being made from start to end. Harder to slip anything into what we order.” She pressed her lips together. “Or I’ll have one of our colleagues make a run tomorrow. It wouldn’t be good to develop an observable pattern to tip anyone off. I don’t think you’ve been observed with me yet, but it’s possible.”
He frowned then. “How so?”
She’d been careful to keep her hair tucked under a hat and wear nondescript clothing as they’d left the Safeguard offices. They’d driven away in separate cars out to some ridiculous distance away from the city before changing vehicles to return together. It was far greater lengths than he’d anticipated and even Officers Weaver and Austin had been disgruntled about all the driving.
“Hotel lobby last night had security cameras.” She shrugged. “Puts us in the same place at the same time. Plus you made inquiries about me. Safeguard won’t answer any queries about whether you contracted with us but a smart person could make logical connections. Then they’d just have to look for me to find you.”
Her reasoning was sound. In fact, she delivered it so simply, he kicked himself for not thinking of it himself.
He needed to be smarter if he was going to be responsible not only for his safety, but for that of others in the future.
“I’m changing up appearances each time I leave but I’m going to keep it to a minimum if possible.” She nudged her duffel with her toe. “I’ve got enough changes of clothes to head out about once a day to pick up whatever we need to supplement the supplies but if we absolutely had to, we’ve got enough here to make it through the next couple of days without actually going outside.”
“I see.” He sighed. “I suppose I’m not to go out at all.”
“You are not to even look out the window.” She sat up straighter in the chair. “Actually, don’t go within three feet of any window. Stay far enough back not to throw a shadow when it gets dark enough to have to turn the lights on.”
“Do you get attacked through windows very often?” He tossed the question out there in a flippant tone.
Her expression went blank. She rubbed the toe of one boot along the back of her opposite calf. “Shot. Sniper took aim at shadows in an apartment through a glass window. Caught the team by surprise.”
Not what he’d been expecting. The deputy marshal and police officers had given him example scenarios. They’d lectured him on what to do in the eventuality of certain situations. All of it had been theoretical.
Here sat a woman warning him from personal experience. And she hadn’t insisted on showing the scars she had to prove it. Both sank in and made an impression.
He tried his drinking chocolate. The chocolate flowed over his tongue with a sweet start easing into an almost red wine sort of fullness before finishing smooth. “You were ri—”
Car tires screeched somewhere outside and metal crunched with some sort of heavy impact.
Isabelle was out of her chair and at his side in an instant, pressing down on his shoulders with one hand. “Get down. Now. Into the other room, get into the bathroom. Stay low.”
She herded him, a gun in hand. He’d never seen her retrieve it. She was just suddenly armed. In a rush, she had him in the bathroom crouching in the bathtub as she remained low at the doorway. A bundle hit him in the chest and he barely caught it before it fell to the ground. As he unfolded it he realized it was a vest.
“Get that on and put your shirt back on over it.”
He rushed to comply, his fingers suddenly clumsy with his shirt buttons. His own breath sounded harsh in his ears.
Isabelle wasn’t watching him. From her position, she was calm and seemingly motionless. Waiting with an air of readiness. Her demeanor helped him regain his own balance and he steadied.
“Scott here.” She spoke softly, almost inaudibly. “Decker, spot report.”
* * *
“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Kyle kept his voice low, his questions short. The urgency came across as demands for answers but she heard the tension, the fear there.
Couldn’t blame the man. He was used to getting immediate responses from the people around him. Being in control. Most people didn’t want to die and he was pretty damned sure someone was trying to kill him. Depending on what Decker had to say, Kyle might be right too.
“Shots fired.” Decker’s voice was low, grim. “Austin and Weaver are injured. Ambulance is on the way. Vehicle traffic is at a standstill. Local authorities are making their way here.”
Not good. Obviously. But Decker could’ve provided more detail. She needed to know more to determine the next course of action. “Are we compromised?”
“Negative.” Decker paused. “Not confirmed.”
She was not waiting for a confirmation. By then, it’d be too late. She motioned for Kyle to come to her side. He’d gone silent but carefully climbed out of the tub and joined her, staying inside the bathroom until she led him back across the bedroom.
“Exactly how were Austin and Weaver injured? Was the shooter on the ground?” She continued her questions in the same tone as previously as they moved. As she spoke, she motioned for Kyle to grab his travel bag. Once she had him tucked against the wall to one side of the door into the apartment, she moved to retrieve her own backpack and duffel bag.
“Shots were fired through their windshield multiple times. Both of them were hit. Nonfatal.” Decker’s response could’ve won prizes for calm amid calamity. “Location of the shooter is unknown.”
“Are you pursuing?” She tugged Kyle close by her side and tapped her shoulder. Once he placed a hand on the spot she indicated, she opened the door. Quick glances up and down the hallway confirmed it was clear. She led them down the hallway to the stairwell.
“Negative. I will not leave my post with our mobile unit down. Keeping an eye on the street.” Decker was following procedure to
the letter. “Stand by. Will report when the street is clear.”
“Copy.” She tugged her comm from her ear and tucked the earbud with attached wire into the neckline of her shirt.
Problem was, the street was choked up with vehicle traffic and she was willing to bet the sidewalks were full of people rubbernecking to try to get a look at the accident. There was no way Decker had a clear line of sight to the entrance to the apartment building. If someone took shots at Weaver and Austin, they’d identified the mobile team as security. It was a distraction. And Decker, even if he wasn’t watching to see what happened to their police colleagues, wasn’t going to be able to visually clear every person on the street.
The situation was too unstable to remain where they were or follow standard procedure.
“Stay with me, be ready to get down,” she whispered over her shoulder without looking back at Kyle. She was busy making sure the stairwell remained clear.
There were a couple of possibilities. Their attackers might know exactly where Kyle was being hidden. So she was absolutely going to move him. Even if their mystery pursuers didn’t know Kyle’s specific location, they’d obviously made the mobile unit and, from their route, could identify which city block Weaver and Austin were circling. Smart assailants probably had a position high on top of one of the nearby buildings or in one of the apartments overlooking the street. Which meant they were far above the street and in good position to see Kyle if they managed to flush him out into the open.
She didn’t know if his attackers knew about her.
As she and Kyle reached the ground floor, she rummaged in her duffel bag. She came out with a wild red wig and handed it to him along with her baseball cap. He took it without arguing. She was going to have to gamble that they wouldn’t be able to visually identify Kyle if they caught sight of him.
Smart man.
As he pulled them on, she carefully looked out the window of the heavy fire door onto the street. It was only around the corner but it was on a different street from the main entrance. Up and down the street seemed clear and she couldn’t see any sign of a shooter in the windows of the apartments facing the street on this side. No telltale silhouettes or irregular lines along the tops of the buildings within view.
She took a deep breath, glanced at Kyle and bit the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face. The man looked ridiculous. But unless someone looked closely at his face, he wasn’t easily recognizable with the shock of red coming out from under the baseball cap. “Slouch. Drag your feet when we walk. Stay on my left as much as you can.”
It was a gamble to step out on the street. But their chances were worse staying in the building. And her gut instinct was screaming at her about all the things that hadn’t gone right in the space of a few hours. Time to be less predictable.
“Here we go.”
Chapter Seven
“Here, go into the bathroom and take off the wig. Swap the cap for this one. Change your shirt too but keep the undershirt. Toss all of the discards into the backpack. We might use them in different combinations later.”
Despite the strain of walking, not running, the past several blocks, Kyle smiled as he accepted the offered trilby. Isabelle was being absolutely serious. Perhaps she didn’t realize how ridiculous her demand sounded out of context, but he had to admire her focus. And he’d be more than happy to hand over the impromptu wig.
To her credit, she’d gotten him out of the building and quietly murmured instructions as she directed him into the crowded chaos of Pike Place Market. He thought she’d wanted him dead when she’d insisted he walk. They’d become lost in the press of people and come out on the other end of the market. Without her, he’d have bolted most likely.
“Why didn’t we run?” He’d been wondering the entire nerve-racking journey. Hadn’t asked because they were out in the open and the look in her eyes had threatened dire consequences if he stopped to ask questions.
They’d just entered a coffee shop tucked just below street level on First Street and she’d herded him toward the restroom. It seemed to be a recurring theme today.
“Quickest way to draw attention on a crowded street is to move at speed in the opposite direction of everyone else.” Isabelle answered him in a matter-of-fact tone, pitched low for only his ears. “So we walked. We went with the flow for a half block before breaking away in our own direction. Now change before anyone checks you out long enough to remember you the way you look now.”
The café was only half-full. The other patrons were lingering unhurriedly over cups of coffee or espresso, reading or chatting quietly with a companion. No one was near enough to overhear them and none had given them a second glance.
Of course, Seattle was full of unusual personalities. He rather doubted anyone would find him interesting enough to remember. But she was the expert.
“Are we staying here long?”
She glowered at him, clearly irritated. He only waited. He’d followed her directions to the letter earlier, without question. This was a lull in their movement and he needed a break from unquestioning obedience. Otherwise, he’d be too tempted to make a bad decision later when it might matter more.
Or at least, that was the way he rationalized it to himself. Isabelle very likely had her own opinion on his current dallying. He struggled for a moment, on the edge of apologizing and going to do as she’d said. She was keeping him alive for God’s sake.
And she acted like she wanted him to remain that way. There was no resentment, no dirty look, no grimace at anything they’d had to do so far. She hadn’t treated him like a job or a paycheck. She’d acted with immediate urgency, like she valued his life. Outside his actual family, she might be a first.
Before he could apologize, she ground out an answer to his question. “Awhile. I want to log on via a private proxy server and decide on our next move. They’ll be searching the streets in a wider search pattern by now and it’d be better to be out of easy sight until we know exactly where we’re headed.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. He could use the time to regain his balance. Then maybe he could get his more ridiculous impulses under control and quit giving her a hard time. “The coffee flight, then.”
“What?” If possible her glower grew deeper and a spark of temper flared up in her gaze.
She was too much fun to tease.
He lifted a chin to indicate the menu behind the coffee bar. “I’ll take the coffee flight while we wait. It’ll calm my nerves.”
Okay, maybe not quit entirely. But he’d try to keep his teasing in reasonable parameters if he had something else to occupy his attention.
“Take your time in the restroom. I’ll keep an eye on anyone coming in from here.” She was already turning away from him, her gaze sweeping the café.
The men’s restroom was clean and compact. He opted to head into a stall to make the changes she’d requested rather than have an awkward moment if someone walked in to see him changing his outfit. It took only a few minutes but he paused to wash his hands and splash his face with water. Now that they weren’t on the move, his hands had begun to shake with delayed reaction.
There’d been shots fired on part of his security detail. That was all he’d learned so far. And it’d been Isabelle who’d acted quickly, calmly, and gotten him out of the area. He’d been right to hire her.
What if he hadn’t?
Any number of possibilities blossomed in his mind but the recurring image in every scenario had him dead. Shot full of holes. There were no second chances unless a person managed to stay alive.
He needed a second chance, not for himself but for people who would be depending on him. Soon.
He stared at himself in the mirror. A part of his brain still narcissistic enough to care noted he was looking somewhat haggard. Dark circles were forming under his eyes. Coffee would help.
A full night’s sleep would help more. But he hadn’t had one since he’d cut his deal and gone into protective custody.
The events of today only served to convince him there was something completely irregular about this trial. Perhaps Isabelle Scott would have insight he hadn’t considered yet. She’d certainly exceeded anything anyone else had accomplished so far when it came to his situation.
He found her physicality extremely attractive and he was about to see if she proved to be equally remarkable in terms of intelligence. The anticipation was enough to gain control of his earlier panic for the moment.
When he exited the restroom, he found Isabelle seated in a booth tucked far away from the front windows of the café. She sat with her back to a wall in a position to see anyone entering the establishment or approaching the booth in specific. As he walked to meet her, keeping in mind her earlier warning about staying away from the windows, she stood and had him slide into the booth beside her.
Not the seat he’d have chosen for himself but when he spotted his requested coffee flight sitting on the table, he decided to meet her halfway.
As he sat, Isabelle reached across him to stick Post-it notes on each of the French presses. “The guy behind the counter offered to come over. If you really wanted the super detailed description of your coffees you’ll have to be disappointed. We don’t want him over here making a show out of it.”
He chuckled at her dry tone. Perhaps he might’ve been irritated if someone else had been making decisions for him but he suspected she preferred to avoid being the center of attention in any place, regardless of the situation. Besides, her reasoning made sense. “I’m happy knowing what each coffee is, thank you.”
Isabelle grunted and turned her gaze to her laptop.
Deadly Testimony Page 6
