by Debra Webb
Kendra eased back from under the desk and plopped down cross-legged on the carpet. Something else she should have anticipated. Castille knew she was here. Wayne. She couldn’t see what Wayne had to gain by taking the drive. Castille…the jury was still out on him.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster, she reminded herself. Rocky had downloaded the files and forwarded all to the Colby Agency. So nothing was actually lost in that sense.
The problem was that now someone had their hands on Yoni’s files. The ones he’d wanted to ensure she alone found if anything happened to him.
The most she could hope for at this point was that the agency could break the encryption before whoever had taken the external drive did so.
A long, low whistle reverberated from the door.
She looked up as her partner entered the criminal disarray. “I think it’s safe to say someone suspected Yoni had discussed more with you than the idea of hiring the Colby Agency.”
“Only two people were aware of my meeting with Yoni,” she voiced the theories she had already considered.
“Castille could have sent his underling to distract you while another of his loyal followers did this,” Rocky theorized.
“But,” Kendra argued, “I’m one hundred percent certain he wouldn’t have sent those pictures as a prop.”
“That leaves Burton.”
“Yeah,” she granted.
Would Wayne have given her and Rocky access to Yoni’s home if he was building a cover-up? Rocky had ensured they hadn’t been tailed after they’d left Yoni’s town house.
On the other hand, would her old friend have permitted their entrance into the crime scene—which was unquestionably outside regulations—for this very purpose? To determine if she knew something he didn’t…like where the external hard drive was?
Kendra didn’t want to believe the worst about him. Like Yoni, she’d always considered Wayne one of the good guys. Even a good man had his price. Castille was immensely powerful. Not that he’d proven a particularly bad guy, but power often brought out the worst in a person. The senator was no exception.
She rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair back. This was exactly why she’d left this world behind.
No one could be trusted when professional gain was at stake.
“Damn it.” Kendra braced to get up when a hand reached down to her. She looked from the strong, wide hand to the man standing over her.
“Come on.” He wiggled his fingers. “We’ll move across the hall and use my laptop. See what we can find out about this Aleesha Ferguson. We’ll figure this out,” he hitched his head toward the mess, “later.”
Kendra placed her hand in his, watched as his long fingers curled around hers. Warmth whispered through her, bringing with it a sense of relief and safety she needed more than she would dare say out loud.
Rocky pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. “Housekeeping will take care of the mess.” He gestured to the room at large and shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
Another reality settled in as Kendra took a closer inventory of the room. No, it wasn’t bad, the place was a disaster. Curtains, linens, furnishings had been damaged or destroyed. Hotel management was not going to be happy when they saw this.
“Okay,” she relented. He was thinking a lot more clearly than she was. Kendra felt so damned tired. So frustrated. Her soul ached with regret for Yoni…for his family.
And her heart twisted with the need to find the truth…and justice.
Rocky kept her hand in his, leading the way to the door. As she stepped over her scattered clothing she hesitated, frowned. Pulling free of Rocky’s gentle hold, she crouched down to inspect her favorite teal blouse. Shredded…like the chair. One piece at a time she picked up each item she’d hastily packed. Every single one was damaged beyond repair. Except the pair of jeans and the T-shirt she’d thrown in for no real reason. Maybe to blend better with her partner.
Didn’t matter. Just clothes. She could buy more.
Why would whoever had come here looking for the hard drive have done this?
This part was a personal attack against her.
Rocky ushered her to her feet once more. “Don’t let this scare tactic get to you. The person or persons responsible want you to be afraid.”
He was right. She nodded, then followed him out the door, grabbing her purse as she went. Her attempts at slowing the whirlwind of confusion building to a hurricane in her brain proved impotent.
Searching for the external drive, then taking it, she could see. Someone had something to hide and didn’t want her to find it.
But why the personal attack?
Maybe just the fear factor, like Rocky had said. Probably not personal at all. Well, whoever had damaged her things could get over it. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not even across the street to another hotel. She and Rocky were showing no fear. This reaction from the enemy proved one thing for certain: someone was getting nervous.
When they were in Rocky’s room, door closed and locked, he pointed to the chair, a duplicate of the damaged one in hers, and ordered: “Sit. I’ll make coffee.”
Kendra couldn’t say how many minutes passed with her brain meandering in a shocked daze, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee drew her mind back to the here and now. “Smells good,” she had the presence of mind to say.
“I don’t know about good,” Rocky said as he handed her a cup, “but definitely strong.”
She cradled the cup in both hands, letting the heat permeate her palms. Felt comforting.
Rocky sat down at the desk and fired up his laptop. “Is that A-l-i-s-h-a Ferguson?”
“Try that,” Kendra suggested. “If you don’t get the right hit, go for A-l-e-e-s-h-a.” She sipped her coffee, her mind replaying the images from the photos. Castille in a car with the Ferguson woman. The two in what looked to be an alleyway. Always at night. Always alone. Always deep in conversation.
But never touching or kissing…
If Castille was having an affair wouldn’t whoever snapped the candid shots have caught at least one image of that behavior?
“Aleesha with the two e’s,” Rocky confirmed. “Twenty-two. No known next-of-kin. Investigators deemed her the victim of a hit-and-run that occurred sometime between midnight and 3:00 a.m. on June 2. No suspects as of the date of this article. Maryland native. That’s about it. The woman in the article photo definitely looks like the one in the shots Roper showed off.”
Kendra fished for her cell phone and put a call into the agency. After giving a condensed briefing of the day’s events, researcher Patsy Talley promised to do all she could to get Yoni Sayar’s cell phone records for the past two months and to look into Aleesha Ferguson’s background and death. Kendra thanked her colleague and ended the call.
“Anything else?” she asked Rocky who remained focused on the screen of his laptop. Another cup of coffee would provide the jump start her brain cells needed.
“Her name and photo popped up on an escort Web site based in Baltimore. Looks like there hasn’t been an update in more than two years. She may or may not have still been involved with that business.”
After refilling her cup, Kendra moved up behind Rocky to study the screen. In the photo Ferguson was outfitted in leather and chains. If this was the other woman, did Castille’s wife learn about her and flip out? Or was Grant’s accusation nothing more than an attempt to draw attention away from Castille himself? At one time Kendra’s relationship with Sharon Castille, the senator’s wife, had been relatively close. “Maybe we should try talking to Mrs. Castille.”
Rocky glanced up at her. “Is there any chance she would willingly see you?”
Kendra wandered to the foot of the bed and collapsed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could put off getting some sleep. Even a second cup of coffee wasn’t doing the trick. “I suppose it depends upon how the senator explained my abrupt departure from his staff. Can’t hurt to try.”
“I have a plan.” Rocky pushed up fr
om the desk. He covered the two steps between them and joined her on the foot of the bed. “You need sleep.”
Kendra motioned to the door. “I should call the front desk about my room.”
Rocky moved his head from side to side. “You sleep.” He patted the bed. “I’ll do a little more research, then I’ll crash out in the chair.”
She couldn’t do that. It would be…inappropriate. Absolutely. Inappropriate. “I’m sure they’ll give me another room.” Kendra stared at her lap where her clasped hands tightened in uncertainty around the cup.
“Look. I’ll call the front desk about your room. Don’t worry about that.” He curled his forefinger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “But, for tonight, I want you where I can see you.”
His touch or maybe his voice made her tremble just a little. Could have been the exhaustion. “I’ll be fine.” She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. His suggestion that she couldn’t was…ridiculous. She had taken care of herself during dicey field investigations before.
He dropped his hand, gave her a patient smile. “I’m certain you would be fine either way, but I wouldn’t be fine at all.”
Confusion lined her brow.
“I’d spend the rest of the night worried about the possibility that whoever did that” he pointed in the direction of her room “would come back. I could conduct this investigation alone.” He nodded for emphasis. “Don’t think I can’t. This whole partners gig is the Colby way of doing things.”
She opened her mouth to argue the idea, but he kept going. “The bottom line is that I need you on this one. I don’t know the players or their worlds. Your knowledge and your contacts will make what has to be done a whole lot easier and more efficient. Not to mention I know how much this case means to you. So let’s not take any chances with safety. Yours or mine. You crash here and we can keep an eye on each other.”
Maybe it was the genuine concern in those blue eyes of his…or maybe it was just her need to feel protected at the moment.
As much as she’d like to claim immunity to vulnerability, that would be a lie. Determined, aggressive, she was both those things but she was also a woman and right now she felt a little vulnerable.
“I can’t argue with your reasoning, partner.” She exhaled the remainder of her uncertainty. “Wake me up if you find anything.”
“Will do.”
Rocky returned to his laptop. Kendra didn’t move for a time. Instead, she watched the man whose nickname gave the impression of hard, unyielding fortitude. In the past fourteen or so hours she had learned that wasn’t the case at all.
Big, tough Leland “Rocky” Rockford was soft and caring on the inside.
A smile widened her weary lips. She liked that.
She pushed up and moved to the side of the bed, kicking her shoes off as she went. Drawing the covers back, she decided that sleeping in her jacket would be counterproductive. She shouldered out of it and tossed it on the foot of the bed. Her holstered cell phone went on the bedside table.
Kendra stretched her kinked muscles, started to climb into the bed but abruptly realized that this suit was the only usable wardrobe element she had left. The jeans absolutely didn’t count. Outside going shopping first thing in the morning, which was not on her agenda, she had little choice but to get under the covers and slip the skirt off as well.
With a camisole beneath the blouse, there was no reason she couldn’t take that off, too. Otherwise she’d be a wrinkled mess in the morning. With a quick glance to ensure Rocky was absorbed in his work, she unbuttoned and peeled off the blouse.
Dropping back onto the pillows she pulled the covers up to her neck. It felt good to lie down. The many questions related to the case churned in her brain, but just closing her eyes was decelerating the puzzling whirlwind. Sleep dragged at her weary body, promising oblivion. She slowly let go.
Rocky would wake her if he found anything or if news came in from the agency research folks. Her lids fluttered open just enough to get one final peek at her partner…and protector.
He was no longer staring at the screen of his laptop. He was staring at her.
The image of those blue eyes drifted into darkness with her.
It was nice, she realized, not being alone.
Chapter Seven
Thursday, 6:15 a.m.
Rocky closed his laptop and turned in the chair to check on Kendra. She slept like a child—trusting and innocent. He scrubbed a hand over his face and realized he was smiling.
He liked watching her sleep.
Fortunately, he’d managed to catch a few winks himself. Around two this morning he’d moved to the more comfortable upholstered chair and stretched his legs out on the side of the bed opposite her. He’d fallen asleep watching her. Her face was the first thing he’d seen when he opened his eyes at five-thirty.
Another first for him.
Not only was she the first woman he’d been attracted to that wasn’t attracted to him first, she was also the first sleeping lady he’d gotten so much pleasure simply watching.
Didn’t make a lot of sense.
It just was.
Patsy T.—her name was Talley, but he liked calling her Patsy T.—had called with an update. She’d forwarded Sayar’s cell phone records as well as Aleesha Ferguson’s rap sheet to Rocky’s e-mail.
Sayar had in fact received two calls from Mrs. Castille the day of Ferguson’s death. Sayar had in the next hour made three additional calls to the senator’s wife. The calls from Castille to Sayar were thirty seconds or less. Two of the three made by Sayar were similarly short, but one lasted a full three minutes. That didn’t confirm Grant Roper’s accusation, but it made for another lead to follow.
Aleesha Ferguson had numerous arrests for prostitution and vagrancy in Baltimore as well as the D.C. area. Her mother, Alice Ferguson, had died of an overdose five years ago, leaving Aleesha alone and to, apparently, follow in the footsteps of her longtime profession. Alice had grown up in Arlington and moved to Baltimore after her only child was born. There was no traceable connection between Aleesha and the senator other than the photos Roper had flashed.
No traceable link between Aleesha and Sayar or Castille’s wife.
Nothing.
Patsy T.’s research partner, Levi Stark, was very close to decrypting Sayar’s files.
They were close to a lot of information but close wouldn’t solve this case.
The only way to change that was to get this day started. He prepared a fresh pot of coffee and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Hesitating at the door, he glanced at Kendra and opted to grab his change of clothes to prevent an awkward situation after his shower in the event she awoke.
By the time he’d rushed through a shower and pulled on clean clothes, the smell of coffee had filled the room and Kendra was up with a cup in her hand.
“Good morning.”
Her hair was a little mussed, the only evidence she’d just gotten out of bed. His gaze slid to the tousled linens and his gut tightened. He’d fought the urge to climb into that bed with her more than once last night. He felt relatively sure she wouldn’t have appreciated that move.
“Morning.” He stuffed yesterday’s wardrobe into his bag and fumbled around until he found his tooth brush and paste.
“Thanks for making coffee.” She sipped the hot brew. “It was great to wake up to hot caffeine.”
It was great to wake up in the room with you. He pushed the forbidden thought out of his head.
“Patsy T. called.”
“Did she find anything useful?”
While Kendra finished her coffee, Rocky brought her up to speed on what he’d learned. She studied the phone records and the rap sheet via his laptop, coming to the same conclusion he had. They had a lot of starts but not necessarily any that would lead them to the desired end result.
“I’ll take a quick shower.” Kendra sat her coffee cup on the desk. “Five minutes,” she promised. “Then we’ll get moving.”
“I’ll pack up our gear.”
When she’d closed herself in the tiny bathroom, he packed up his laptop and gathered the rest of the gear they would need. Communications devices and weapons. He surveyed the room, decided that was everything.
He poured himself another cup of coffee. The sound of the water running in the shower stalled the cup halfway to his mouth.
Images of her naked, the soap gliding over her skin…the water tracing that same smooth path, rinsing the soap away.
He licked his lips, imagined how hers would taste. Nice, full lips that made the cutest bow when she was lost in thought. He liked her fingers, too. Long, slender. When she was frustrated she rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips.
Why had he noticed so many little things about her in such a short time? The bigger question was, why had he been paying that much attention? Good thing she couldn’t read his mind or she would likely think he was losing it or some kind of perv.
The roar of the blow dryer in the bathroom prodded Rocky from the distracting thoughts. He pulled on socks and boots. Threaded his belt through the loops of his jeans and fastened it. Then dragged on a sports jacket—his usual concession to the suit thing. A quick thread of his fingers through his hair and he was good to go.
The bathroom door opened, releasing a burst of sweet-smelling steam, and Kendra stepped out. “You were right,” she said, looking and sounding well rested.
“Yeah?” His gaze immediately traced a path from her bare feet up those shapely legs to the hem of her skirt. He blinked, forced his attention to her face, which was every bit as distracting as the rest of her.
“Sleep was what I needed.” She pulled on the cream-colored jacket she’d worn the day before. “I feel better prepared to move forward.”
“Good.” Efforts to banish the way her blouse had tightened against her breasts while she’d shouldered into the jacket proved futile. The more alone time he spent with her the less control he appeared to have.
“I’d like to go to my room.” She stepped into her shoes, simultaneously stuffing something into her pocket. “See if any of my stuff survived.” A search of her purse produced her keycard.