Deadly Testimony (5 page)

Isabelle’s attention sharpened at the statement. While he could be saying it to just about any person in her line of work, it meant something more to an operative with her specific skill set. The question was whether he was privy to it.

Nguyen placed a card on the bar and stepped off the stool. He turned to face her as he straightened his shirt. “I’d like you to feel free to call me directly if you have concerns or need immediate assistance.”

Then he walked out of the store.

Isabelle stood there, peripherally aware of the two employees behind the bar chatting about logistics of a boyfriend picking one of them up directly from work. There’d been several messages in the exchange and she’d need to think on them a bit more.

Nguyen was senior enough not to come out and say anything direct. He’d left her with hints and the seeds for her to consider the possibilities and come to her own conclusions. She needed a bit more information though so, for now, the important things to keep in mind were the warning of the possibility for complications and the invitation to contact him. Directly.

Generally, such a situation didn’t speak highly of trust in the man in the field. It didn’t surprise her not to be encouraged to go to the local law enforcement resources involved but excluding Decker as well was notable.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” the girl gushed, rushing over with a set of to go cups in a tray. “Your orders are fresh and hot though, I made sure.”

Isabelle thanked her and tipped her, then started toward the front of the shop. Eyeing a couple of the displays, she snagged some specialized provisions for the days to come. Hopefully she wouldn’t need them but if she didn’t get them, she had a sneaking suspicion she’d regret not being prepared.

Chapter Six

Kyle was entertained enough by Miss Isabelle Scott’s reactions to actually wait patiently in the apartment for her to return. Besides, twenty minutes was hardly long and he’d appreciated her giving him a time frame at all. Something neither the officers nor the deputy marshal had bothered to provide him.

It remained to be seen whether she would keep to the given time frame.

In the meantime, he made himself a sandwich. He was pleasantly surprised to find a fresh-baked loaf of bread, presliced and waiting. On first glance, he’d expected it to be from a well-known French bakery in Pike Place Market but the label was handwritten instead. Home-baked? There were also good quality deli meats, again fresh sliced. And a variety of cheeses both sliced and spreadable. The refrigerator had not been stocked with standard supplies from a chain grocery store. There was also Irish butter and Italian sea salt infused with white truffle. Even a jar or two of what looked to be homemade preserves with a handwritten label across the seal. Someone with a palette had supplied them with items to put together a decent repast.

He’d have to look into who supplied Safeguard with their catering. The person, or Isabelle, had good taste.

Spreading out the fixings, he set about making himself a sandwich. He also wrapped up everything again but left it all out so Isabelle could easily put together her own. He’d have made one for her but he didn’t know her tastes yet and wanted to see what she made for herself. Besides, observing her had proven a definite pleasure.

She was exceedingly expressive when conversing with him. Or perhaps he’d exaggerated his perceived difference between her stoic professional demeanor with the officers and deputy marshal and her somewhat startled reactions to him. With the others, she’d tended to set her jaw in a stubborn way. As if she was preparing to take on any pissing contests to come her way, and they were a certainty rather than a possibility.

He wasn’t sure if she’d noticed the difference in her own behavior yet, but he was hoping she would allow it to continue. Otherwise, she’d be every bit as boring as every other person assigned to protect him.

And really, he couldn’t afford to be bored. It’d lead to too much thinking about things he couldn’t take action on until after this entire mess was behind him.

The phone she’d left for him was on the table. She’d asked him to leave his personal electronics back at the Safeguard offices. However inconvenient, the precaution was understandable. He had the critical information he needed for the next several days at least. Never would he admit the twitch he experienced, habitually reaching for his smartphone.

He glanced at the screen of the loaned phone to quickly scan the incoming text from her and moved to the door. As she’d instructed, he stood to the side rather than in front of it and listened for her.

“Here.” Her voice whispered through the door, just loud enough to be heard.

He undid the dead bolts—really, why were there more than one—and let her into the room.

She entered, her dark gaze sweeping around the apartment and cataloging everything in sight. “Sorry, took a minute or two longer than I’d intended.”

“A minute or two is inexcusable.” He smiled at her.

Her brows wrinkled for a moment before she registered his sarcasm and let out a quick sigh as she turned and relocked the door. “In a lot of cases, it is.”

So serious. He searched her expression. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes weren’t focused on him anymore. Instead, there was the barest moment in which she was lost in memory.

“In this case, I think the worst consequence might be cold coffee.” He regretted having brought up unfortunate recollections. Everyone had them. He made it a practice not to delve into his if at all possible so bringing them up for someone else wasn’t something he did purposely.

“The cups are decently insulated.” She moved to the small table and set down the cup carrier.

He followed, stepping into her personal space by a couple of inches to see if she got standoffish. She didn’t back away but she turned immediately to face him and glare. He prudently held up his hands and stepped to the side to give her room, but he wasn’t about to back away from the cups she’d brought.

Enticing scents rose up to tease him. Decadent chocolate and rich cream were cut and complimented by the bittersweet, slightly nutty aroma of coffee. Wherever she’d picked these up, these drinks were worth their fluid weight in gold if the taste was as good as the smell.

She lifted a regular twelve-ounce cup. “Coffee. Dark roast. Sweetened with raw sugar. The store included a few extra packets in case it isn’t sweet enough, I guess.”

The packets were laid flat in the well of the cup holder. Good eye. He hadn’t even noticed them.

“I’m assuming at least one of those is your hot chocolate.” He took the coffee from her before he managed to rile her up enough to toss it at him. He’d made that mistake in the past with another woman.

“Mmm.” But she didn’t lift the smaller cup to her lips. Instead she held it out to him, as well. “Drinking chocolate, also known as sipping chocolate. Not hot chocolate. I’m a firm believer in everyone trying it from this place.”

He raised an eyebrow but took the cup from her. It was about the size of an espresso cup. To go. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Yeun.” She took the last, espresso-sized cup and headed to the armchair in the corner. Then she breathed deeply of the aroma wafting from her prize.

“Kyle, please. No reason we can’t be on familiar terms even in strained circumstances.” It would actually help put him more at ease.

She nodded in acknowledgement but her attention seemed to remain on her precious cup, taking tiny sips and savoring.

Curious, he followed suit. Chocolate. Cream. More complex subtlety than he’d expected though with undertones of sweetness and bitterness. “What’s the difference between drinking chocolate and hot chocolate?”

Her eyes were half-hooded as she sipped. For a second, it didn’t seem as if she’d answer him, but then she did. “Different ratio of chocolate to milk for one thing. And drinking chocolate doesn’t have cocoa powder at all, I don’t think. Some hot chocolate mixes are nothing but or a mix of cocoa powder and shaved chocolate.”

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.