Deadly Testimony (7 page)

“Ah.” He sat back. The air in the sudden space he’d left was still warm with his presence. “I’d find temporary accommodations, probably with a passing acquaintance. It’d seem unwise to go to my own flat.”

She thought about the brief hesitation before he mentioned an acquaintance. Uh-huh. “You mean ‘lady friend’?”

Even that was indirect. Unusual for her but no need to make assumptions or get judge-y.

Fabric rustled as he shrugged. “Some are actual friends, others are more temporary associates with a practical price tag attached to the pleasure of their company.”

She nodded. The weight of his stare increased as he studied her but she wasn’t going to give him any of the expected reactions.

“Most women seem to react less than favorably when I admit to seeking out company.” There was a question underlying Kyle’s statement. Not too probing.

Because he wasn’t interrogating her or making stupid assumptions based on whatever his idea of what most women would think, Isabelle continued running her searches and responded to him. “I’ve heard some people refer to my line of work in the same general context as prostitution. People can be capable of committing some incredibly awful things to each other. In comparison? A few hours of sexual gratification seems closer to the positive side of ways to earn a living.”

She’d had people tell her what she’d done was worse than exchanging sex for money. Considering how many times she’d been deployed, how often she’d had to do things no one talked about when they returned to Stateside, she’d be inclined to think so too.

“Agreed.” Kyle sounded impressed.

It startled her, the way his comment came on the tail end of her line of thought. The idea of him having such a negative opinion of her unsettled her too, twisting her gut uncomfortably. She shouldn’t care. She’d made a habit of not.

Something about the discussion niggled at her and she gladly followed that line of thought as a distraction. “You’re circumspect. I can understand referring to it delicately in a larger group. But it’s just me and you here and you’re not paying me for polite company. There’re people out there who’d call a prostitute a lot of other things besides ‘passing acquaintance’.”

He was silent long enough for her to look over at him. When she did, his expression was uncharacteristically serious.

“Words like
whore
.
Slut
. They’re powerful.” There was sadness in his eyes until he closed them and shook his head. “They don’t just hurt when one person throws them at another. They can be labels. Other labels—like call girl, escort, courtesan—might be kinder but they carry as much judgment with them. They can haunt a person and follow them from day to day, place to place. If enough people throw them at a person, those words become a part of perceived identity. Even if money exchanges hands in return for sexual favors, I don’t assume it has anything to do with who the woman actually is.”

She considered him for a moment. He’d known someone or maybe more than one person in such a position. It was personal for him somehow.

“A lot of ways to hurt a person.” She found herself turning her body to face him, opening up her posture as he bared a part of himself to her. Somehow this discussion had gone dark and she got the impression he presented the lighter persona to avoid this part of his personality. Hell, if she was any good at being funny, she’d do it too.

He nodded, still caught up in his mood. “Indeed. In any case, you have your answer.”

She pushed her laptop over to him. The screen displayed a map of downtown Seattle. “Any of those locations shown here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this to determine where to go or where not to go?”

She tipped her head to one side. “It’s sort of a balance. The trick is to not be quite where they expect you to be but close enough that they’ll overlook you as they try the next likely spot.”

“And you have a way to manage this?” There was definitely amusement in his voice now.

“I made several reservations at varying types of hotels under pseudonyms.” She tapped the map on the screen. “Once you answer my question, I’m going to pick one. I’ll check back in with the rest of the protective detail just before we leave. Once I do, we move and don’t stop until we’re established securely in the new location.”

Whether she’d share their exact location was something she’d decide later. A lot of it depended on the details of the shooting on Weaver and Austin and any theories they had on how they’d been targeted.

Chapter Eight

As they entered the lobby, Kyle paused to watch a family and their dog waiting on the nearby sofas. The dog was well enough behaved, sitting patiently near the adults, and it was on a leash. The family was all dressed in identical T-shirts and obviously visiting on vacation.

Most definitely a family-friendly atmosphere but he was pleased to see the decor remained elegant and sophisticated. Often, family-friendly places attempted to create an almost cartoon-style atmosphere to entertain the younger demographic.

He turned his attention back to the dog. It had an endlessly patient expression for a canine. Considering the bounding energy of the children running laps around the sofa, the pooch probably needed quite a lot of that particular virtue.

Isabelle paused to follow his gaze. “Not a big fan of dogs? Seattle is a fairly dog-friendly city.”

Kyle shook his head. “I’ve spent most of my life here in the United States but it still catches me by surprise to see pets out and about with their owners in public spaces.”

“Yeah?” Isabelle nudged him with a shoulder to continue forward to the front desk. “Some cities are more pet-friendly than others.”

“Where I spent my childhood, dogs were not commonplace pets in the household.” His childhood wasn’t filled with fond memories either but it had never occurred to him to want a dog the way some of his classmates had when he’d entered school in the United States.

His mother had been afraid of any pet larger than a hamster, really.

“Ah. We do make way for a lot of lifestyles here.” Isabelle kept him close to her side as the desk clerk turned his attention to her. “Hi. Checking in?”

The man gave her a friendly smile. “Of course. Name?”

Isabelle didn’t hesitate. “Reyes. Two guests.”

Kyle kept his expression bland, his gaze wandering to fish in the bowl behind the front desk and reading the sign next to it. Isabelle turned, her dark gaze scanning the lobby and the area beyond the front doors while the clerk found their reservation and prepared their room keys. While she was scanning the room, he caught the eye of a young lady behind the desk.

The pretty employee smiled as she turned toward him and he pointed at the fishbowl. Then glanced significantly at Isabelle and winked, placing his finger over his lips. The young woman’s eyes widened with comprehension and she smiled, nodding.

Kyle grinned as the woman stepped over to the clerk’s side, whispering discreetly.

Once they received their keys and headed to the elevator, Kyle waited for the elevator doors to close before he asked his questions. “What happened to the reservations at the other hotels?”

“Standard operating procedure. Safeguard will monitor and adjust the other reservations under the naming convention I use for a delayed check-in each night until I check in and confirm we don’t need them. It sounds excessive but we’ve negotiated corporate rates so it isn’t as expensive as it sounds.” Isabelle explained, watching the elevator floor indicator light up each number in turn.

“All as a matter of practice, no unnecessary communication.” He leaned back against the wall. “You must have amazing administrative support. Or is there a different title for that position in your organization?”

She shrugged. “Our operational support personnel are very good at what they do. Most of the time, I make the initial reservations but they manage it from there. They do a pretty good job of adapting to the way each of the resources in the field does things. Sometimes what we do requires us to go dark for undefined amounts of time. Keeping tabs on the reservations gives Gabe an idea of where we are without us having to report in but outside groups would have more trouble tracking the information.”

“And yet you share this procedural detail with me.” Kyle wondered about the increase in information sharing. “You were not as forthcoming with Decker right before we left the café.”

Kyle hadn’t overheard Decker’s side of the conversation and the exchange had been terse. She’d basically let Decker know they were alive and headed for a more secure location. Nothing else to give them away.

“He didn’t need to know. You’re more likely to cooperate with me if you understand my logic.” She made the statement and he didn’t refute it. It was an accurate assessment of his temperament and he rather appreciated her acknowledgement. “In any case we’re fairly familiar with all of the hotels in the downtown area. This one is more of a boutique, not too mainstream. I’ve never stayed here personally but I also figured you’re more likely to stay put in accommodations you like.”

He smiled. “True. And if it helps, I’ve never stayed here either. It seems to be one of the better choices for families.”

“Yes.” Isabelle tensed as the elevator doors opened, pushing him back against the wall and out of view until she was satisfied the hallway was empty. “Let’s get you into the room and take next steps.”

“Under other circumstances, I’d be very happy to be pushed up against an elevator wall by a woman and rushed to our hotel room as soon as we arrived to our floor.” Kyle paused. “I can’t say I’m not happy, but I imagine I won’t enjoy it as much as I have in the past.”

She might have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been maintaining vigilance. “Room. Now. Smart mouth, after we’ve got you secure again. Maybe never.”

He grinned. She’d been maintaining a distance from him the entire circuitous route down to the waterfront and back up the streets to arrive at this hotel. Every instance of contact had been deliberate, as if she’d thought carefully about whether she wanted to make it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have kissed her back at the first coffee shop. But he wouldn’t regret it. Her lips had been soft and the kiss had been hot. Both qualities he enjoyed in a first encounter. He’d pursue further if she gave him any sign of it being welcome.

Yet Isabelle Scott was an interesting combination of contrasting personality traits. She moved with confidence, a certain arrogant swagger in the way she stepped out into the world. She made a violent encounter seem like a graceful dance. She was a person of action, decisive and devastatingly effective.

But she hadn’t killed him for his infringement on her personal space. He’d considered it a good sign. Now, she was maintaining an invisible bubble around herself and he wasn’t sure if it was a result of their having gone back out into the open to travel or if she didn’t want further personal interaction with him.

He wanted to know. Very much.

As she entered the room, she paused then pulled him into the entryway closing the door behind him. “Stay.”

His gut reaction was to refuse. Experience over the past twenty-four hours squelched the habitual urge to be contrary and he remained where she put him.

For her part, Isabelle proceeded farther into the room with a handgun held up and ready to respond. She approached the bathroom door in a wide arc as she peered inside. Apparently satisfied, she checked the closet and pulled the heavier drapes closed across the windows at the far end of the room.

As the drapes closed out the outside world, a tension eased in Kyle. Apparently, Isabelle had instilled a very healthy wariness of windows in him. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until she’d effectively hidden them from searching eyes.

Irritated with the level of fear he’d been maintaining through all of this, he deliberately strode to the bed and laid down on it, shoes on and all.

Isabelle stared at him, her expression blank. After a moment, she murmured, “Sit tight. I’m going to head out to secure a few more things. You’ll be okay here. If anything suspicious happens, head down the hall to the stairs and go down to the ground floor. I’ll meet you there.”

She opened her mouth as if she would say more, hesitated and shut her mouth. Turning on her heel, she left.

Kyle sat up on the bed. The woman was irritatingly hard to read.

* * *

“What is this?” She peered into the glass bowl full of water and caught sight of a fairly active, chubby fish.

“He is Frederick.” Kyle made himself comfortable on the sofa, the long-limbed length of him draped over the entirety of it in catlike fashion. “He’s a goldfish.”

She continued to study the fish in question swimming busily in the simple bowl with a bit of gravel in the bottom. In the reflection on the side of the glass bowl, she also considered her client. “I can see he’s a goldfish. Why is he here and how do you know he is a he?”

Kyle stretched and placed his hands behind his head, leaning all the way back. “This hotel is particularly known for being pet-friendly and family-friendly—a place no one would consider a possibility when looking for me, by the way, I’ve been well-known to love a bachelor’s life—and a goldfish is provided compliments of the hotel for the length of your stay upon request. Families love having a vacation friend. The hotel staff also thoughtfully provides a fish to keep lone business travelers company.”

“Huh.” It still didn’t explain why they’d ended up with one.

Kyle glanced at her sideways without actually turning his head to face her. “Since you seem...uncomfortable alone with me, I thought Frederick’s company might improve your mood.” Kyle paused. “I honestly don’t know for sure if he is a he but his name seems indicative of gender.”

She snorted. Then she paused to wonder whether Kyle had stayed in some hotel alone before with only a goldfish for company despite his commentary. Actually, the alone on business part seemed likely. Question was, how many times? Or more sobering, how often had he stayed elsewhere alone and wished for the company of even a goldfish?

“Thank you.” It came out quieter than she intended but she didn’t repeat it louder.

Kyle was silent for a moment and she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her but after a minute he did speak. “You’re holding up your end of the contract. I’m not the easiest person to be around but I can at least make an effort to make this less of an ordeal. I...have a lot of things to live for.”

She could’ve made light of his statement but he hadn’t delivered it in his usual bantering tone. He’d sounded serious. And unusually introspective. Curiosity tweaked again, she fished for a little more information. And hell, she’d admit she was doing it too. “Most people do value their lives and what they planned to do with them.”

“True.” Kyle’s tone didn’t perk up. If anything, he became even more serious. “Months ago, I’d have said I have things to do. Period. For me.”

She turned to lean against the table, careful not to jostle Frederick’s bowl. “What changed?”

“My life wasn’t just about me being responsible for me anymore.” He kept his gaze on the ceiling. “I have a sister and she wanted to come here to the United States from Korea with her son to live with me.”

“Ah.” Instant family. She tipped her head to one side as she regarded him. “That’s a big life change.”

“I could’ve said no.” Kyle made it sound matter-of-fact. “I did not. Considering why she made the request—what they’d both been through—I couldn’t say no.”

She waited. No pushing or coaxing. She got the sense that if she did, he’d drop back behind his carefree bachelor facade.

“I decided I needed to live a...cleaner lifestyle if they were going to come stay with me.” He sighed. “I have the skill set to land another good job with comparable salary after this trial is over. What I needed to be sure of was that I wouldn’t end up incarcerated for white-collar crimes when my family needs me.”

Made sense. The court documentation she’d seen had been redacted thoroughly. This wasn’t a simple trial. Didn’t make what he’d done in the past right, but his reasoning had a certain logic to it. She’d done enough in her own past to consider herself the last person to judge someone else’s right to a fresh start.

“Most of what I’ve done wrong was limited to keeping quiet when I had knowledge of illegal activities. Other people actually committed the insurance fraud or the illegal dumping.” Kyle pushed himself up to a sitting position, swinging his legs down off the sofa and resting his elbows on his knees. “My silence was tacit support.”

“So you’re not testifying just because you cut a deal.” If so, she thought better of him for it. She touched the side of the glass fishbowl gently and Frederick swam over to investigate.

He shook his head. “Not just because, no. I’m testifying because it’s time to share what I know.”

She folded her arms across her chest considering him. “Insurance fraud and illegal dumping, even biohazard material, don’t seem to be enough to go through all the trouble we’ve seen over the past twenty-four hours.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I did not expect the level of spite my company has gone to.”

“But you were sure your life was in danger.” And neither she nor Gabriel Diaz had disagreed with his assessment. Those men sent after Kyle the night before had been too happy to draw their weapons to be planning to just intimidate him into not testifying.

Kyle finally raised his gaze to meet hers and the look in his eyes was bleak. “I was certain. And I am still afraid.”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s not just about getting to you at this point. Something about your testimony was worth firing on two police officers. They’re going to up their game coming after you and there has to be a better reason than what you’ve told me so far.”

Kyle surged to his feet and began to pace. “Take valuable chemical reagents intended for laboratory research and realize they’ve expired or gone past effective use date. Recoup the loss by having those supplies dropped overboard en route from Korea to the US and then file insurance claims for the purportedly valuable lab supplies ‘lost at sea.’ It’s repeated illegal dumping of biohazardous waste in ocean waters followed by insurance fraud. Those are incredibly serious criminal and civil charges with enough instances on record to bankrupt Phoenix Biotech. I have knowledge of each instance, the time they occurred and the resources assigned to those transport ships. I even have records on the shipping container numbers to identify them if they are recovered. All this, I knew about and tracked as an effective project manager, but I didn’t stop to think about whether it was ethical. Not until I realized I needed to look beyond my comfortable lifestyle and provide for someone else.”