Deadly Testimony (Safeguard #2)(22)
“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?”