Beth jumped to her feet as a stranger entered the room. He was tall, solidly built and looked to be about the same age as Char—Alex. The men greeted each other with a handshake. Still, Beth went around to the other side of the chair.
Alex might know this guy, but that didn't mean that she was going to greet him with open arms. Hell, she wasn't sure if she would ever trust another stranger in her life.
The men whispered for a couple of seconds. The stranger’s eyes flashed toward her. She really wanted to believe Alex when he said that he was going to keep her safe, but this wasn't exactly the kind of behavior that inspired confidence.
“Hey,” she said. Both men turned toward her. “Maybe I've seen too many movies, but please tell me that this isn't the part where you decide that I know too much, then turn around and shoot me.”
The stranger arched a brow but no other hint of expression showed on his face. If his career in government intimidation didn’t work out, he had a future as a poker player. “Miss Bradley?”
“Yeah,” she said, gripping the back of the chair even tighter. She had the distinct feeling she'd just poked a tiger with a stick.
“I am Agent John Ryman, and I assure you I came up here with no intention of doing you any harm.”
Beth looked toward Alex for confirmation.
“It's okay, Beth. John is cool,” he said.
“You’re sure about that?”
He gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“How are you sure?” She wasn’t taking anything on faith right now.
“We were in the Navy together.”
She looked between the two formidable men. “What, were you guys on the same SEAL team, or something?”
Alex and his friend stared at her silently.
Okay, then.
Agent Ryman took a step toward her. Beth fought off the urge to take a step back. There was nothing soothing or suave about the man. She didn't doubt for a second that he was every bit as deadly and dangerous as Alex…Agent Alex Tanner. He just didn't hide it nearly as well.
“Why don't you tell me everything that happened this afternoon, Miss Bradley,” he said, taking a seat. The fact that he was lower than her did nothing to take away his menacing air.
Beth shot a glance at Alex.
“John’s here to help,” he said.
“A crazy man came after me with a gun,” she said. “There isn't much more to the story.”
“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to put a hit out on you?” Agent Ryman asked.
“No. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Agent Ryman’s eyes narrowed. “There has to be some reason.”
Beth’s pulse began to race. It was bad enough nearly getting killed out in the street. She didn’t need some thick-necked stranger suggesting that she’d brought it on herself.
“And if I knew it, I would tell you,” Beth said. “Isn’t it possible that this Bruno guy was just trying to get to Charlie—I mean, Alex—through me?”
“Doubtful,” Agent Ryman said.
Beth waited for him to explain, but he didn’t say anything else. Apparently, she was just supposed to take his word for it.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
“And why is it so doubtful?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
A sardonic smile lifted just the right corner of John’s lips. He glanced down at the floor, shaking his head. “If Bruno Staal had known that he would be meeting Alex in that alley today he would have come armed with a hell of a lot more than a pistol and a knife. He would have brought an army.”
Agent Ryman’s words drained the fire out of Beth's belly, and she swallowed hard. Who the hell was Alex Tanner? Was he really as dangerous as this guy made him sound? Of course he was. She'd already seen proof of that.
Her hands started to shake again.
Agent Ryman looked up at Alex. It was obvious that the men had known each other for a while. Alex took over.
“I need you to focus, Beth. Is there any reason that Isobel’s uncle might want to hurt you?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. I barely know Salvatore. I've probably only said half a dozen words to him in the last fifteen years.”
“It’s okay, Beth. Just think. Is there anything that happened in the past?”
“Nothing.”
Agent Ryman leaned forward. “How about the bride? Isobel? Could she have any reason to want you dead?”
Beth’s fear instantly turned to anger at the question. She glared at him. Trained killer or not, she wasn't about to listen to him slander her friend. “This has nothing to do with Isobel.”
“We can't be sure of that,” Agent Ryman said evenly.
“You might not be sure, but I'm goddamned certain,” she said. “Char—Alex, tell this guy that there's no way that Isobel is involved with anything to do with her uncle. She's as afraid of him as I am.”
“John’s just doing his job. He's here to help keep you safe, and right now that means we can't rule out any option,” Alex said, lowering his voice.
She was starting to recognize the manipulation technique. Well, it wasn't going to work on her. They could go and find someone else to play good cop/bad cop with. Or whatever the hell they were.
“You’re wasting your time looking at Isobel,” she said. “But to answer your question, no. There’s no reason she’d want to hurt me. I’m her maid of honor, for heaven’s sake.”
Agent Ryman leaned forward. “Think hard, Miss Bradley. Something had to spark this attempt on your life. At this point nothing is too small to consider.”
“Seriously, there's been noth—” Beth froze, her tongue still trapped between her teeth. The memory of Salvatore’s angry face flashed through her mind. She'd interrupted him in the laundry room. She remembered the envelope, the briefcase that had been pushed his way. The murderous look in his eyes when he’d seen her. She thought of what the man with him had whispered to Salvatore.
Not here.
Oh, dear God.
Beth looked up from the floor. Her gaze locked with Alex's.
“I think I know what this is about.”
She relayed the story of what had happened earlier that morning. Alex stiffened as she told the details of the threat she had seen in his eyes. Agent Ryman listened with less attention.
“I was so upset after finding your gun this morning that I guess I forgot all about it,” she said. “I haven't thought about it all day.”
“You found Alex’s gun?” Agent Ryman asked incredulously, cracking a trace of a grin at Alex.
Alex brushed him off. “This man who was with Salvatore Munoz, did you get a good look at him?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess so. He was as close to me as Salvatore was.”
“Do you think that you would recognize him if you saw him again?” Alex asked.
Beth nodded. That moment was etched in her mind. She recalled every second and sound of it. If she ever ran into that man again, she'd know.
“Can you give me a description?” Agent Ryman asked.
“White guy. Tall...ish, maybe six feet. Brown hair, cut above his ears. Late thirties, early forties. Brown eyes. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt.”
Alex and Agent Ryman shared a look, not a particularly happy one. She'd just described about a third of the hotel's guests.
“Was there anything distinguishing about him at all?” Ryman asked.
Beth shook her head. “Not that I can remember,” she said. “Is he important?”
The men glanced at each other before looking back at her. She knew what they were doing—they were figuring out how much to tell her, and she didn't like it one bit. She had spilled everything she knew, even when all she had wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide under the bed for the next ten years.
“Tell me who he is,” she said. “If my life is in danger, I deserve to know.”
“The man you saw is the reason why I’m at this hotel,” Alex said after a long moment ha
d passed.
“I thought you were here for Salvatore Munoz.”
“That’s why he’s here.” Alex inclined his head toward Agent Ryman. “I’m here to capture a CIA leak.”
“So, who is this guy?” she asked.
“We don't know,” Agent Ryman said.
“What do you mean you don't know?”
“Around the time that we found out that Munoz would be traveling to the United States, we discovered a breach of classified information concerning the strategic oil reserves. We have reason to believe that someone working inside the CIA is looking to sell that information to the Venezuelans.”
“That must have been what I interrupted.”
“It makes sense,” Alex said. “They would have to meet face to face. A digital transmission would be too easy for us to trace. Whoever this guy is, he knows that. He's good at covering his tracks.”
Beth rounded the chair and sat down. She wasn’t frightened anymore. She was just tired.
“So, I’m the only one who can identify him?” she asked, deflating as reality sunk in.
“It looks that way,” Agent Ryman said.
“This guy you’re after, he’s not just going to give up, is he? He’s going to come after me again.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Alex said. And she wanted to believe him. Dear God, she did. But, as usual, what she wanted and reality were two different things.
“I don’t see how you can. You can’t fight off every hit man in the world.”
“Actually—” Agent Ryman started.
“And even if you could,” she broke in before she could hear any more scary revelations about Agent Alex Tanner, “I would never put you in that position.”
Beth looked down at the floor. It was far easier to face the wavy patterns in the carpet under her feet than the pained expression on Alex’s face.
“It’s my job,” he said.
She laughed without humor. “Of course, it is. I think I liked it better when I thought you were going to hold us all for ransom.”
“You thought I was going to hold you hostage?” Alex asked.
Beth shook her head. “It was just one of many theories I had running in my head.”
“You thought this, and you weren't going to try and stop me?” he asked, amused.
“It was pretty far down on the list. Mostly I just thought that you were going to rob the place.”
“Yeah, that's a lot better.”
Beth shrugged. Things had seemed a whole lot easier when she'd woken up this morning. Back then she'd only been plagued by nightmares and existential dread. Those were the days.
“How bad would it be if the people Munoz works for got their hands on this information?” she asked.
“Bad,” Agent Ryman answered. “There are those who could profit a great deal if something were to happen to our oil supply.”
Beth nodded. A silence filled the room.
“So what happens now?”
“Now, you leave the hotel with John,” Alex said. “He'll show you some pictures, and you see if you can pick out the man you saw.”
“Leave?” Beth said, looking up. “For how long?”
“For however long it takes for us to ensure your safety,” he said.
“I can't go. Isobel's wedding is in two days.”
“It's just a wedding, Beth. It isn't worth your life.”
Beth shook her head. “I can't just disappear. What am I supposed to tell Isobel?”
“It doesn't matter. Tell her you’re sick,” he said.
“She's never going to believe that. Especially if you’re still hanging around,” she said. “Why don't you go grab Isobel’s uncle, confiscate all his stuff and ship him out of the country?”
Ryman shook his head. “There are diplomatic issues.”
“Diplomatic issues? Coming here to buy government secrets doesn't qualify as a diplomatic issue?”
“I can’t do anything without proof,” Agent Ryman said.
“Sending a hit man after a witness doesn’t qualify as proof?”
Agent Ryman sat back in his seat. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and drew in a long breath. Beth had the distinct feeling that he was a man who wasn’t used to anyone talking back to him. He looked over at Alex.
“We need to talk,” he said. “Alone.”
***
The Wedding Trap Page 12
