She smiled at the memory. It was one of the things she loved about him, his willingness to serve without glory.
There she went again, thinking she loved him.
The red LED clock on top of his desk blinked at her, as if scolding her for the thought. It flashed the time: 5:15 a.m. She could slip to her room, freshen up and get breakfast before the conference. Her stomach growled at the idea. She cringed at the noise and put her hands on her torso like she could mute it.
After she folded the blanket, slipped on her flats and found the cell phone he’d purchased for her, she crossed to open the door. Except she didn’t want Matt to panic if he found her missing. On top of his desk, she wrote on a sticky note:
Don’t worry. Not sleepwalking. I’ve got the phone. See you soon.
She placed it directly over the doorknob and unlatched the door. She inhaled and pressed the handle down, ever so gently, and slipped out into the hallway. The conversation with Hank last night weighed heavily on her mind. At what point did she admit defeat and cut her (and Hank’s) losses? Such a break would force her to move again, and even though she hated the thought, it would free her up to a possibility with Matt.
Ridiculous. Matt hadn’t shown any interest, and she’d practically opened the door for him to let her know if he did. But when she reflected on that kiss... Nope. Thinking about the kiss would now be off-limits. It meant nothing.
Isabelle sped through her shower and got dressed. She pulled the laptop out of the room safe. As far as she knew, the crooks after her still thought it resided in the main hotel safe. Matt had gone so far as to book her room under a pseudonym in case any crafty con man tricked the hotel staff into revealing her room number.
Oh, how she missed having a smartphone and tablet. The laptop had no network card, which meant no internet. To be without her email and productivity applications was a crime in and of itself.
She separated the flash drive from the rest of the necklace and plugged it into the computer. The presentation slides were in order and ready for her to practice. She whispered the words to herself. Tomorrow it would all be over.
Confident and prepared, she clicked off the slide show. Looking over her shoulder, despite the closed curtains and locked doors, she used the encryption to open the research files. If only she could entrust it to someone else or make it public. Then the danger would disappear...along with Hank’s chance to pay the ever-increasing institute bills. So that wasn’t an option. It wasn’t as if she could walk away and the institute would continue to function. It’d be over and done, a huge vacuum in the community.
Her finger drifted over the facts and figures on the screen. Darren Allen would need assurances that she had cold hard data worthwhile to investors. She committed to memory as much as she could. The silence soothed her. She closed her eyes and prayed over the day.
Her room phone rang, jolting her. Should she answer?
“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Matt’s voice was clipped.
“I left a note.”
“I had to make sure it wasn’t a sick prank. And then I couldn’t help but wonder if you wrote the note in your sleep.”
Coming from the king of pranks, it seemed like poetic justice. It had taken two weeks for her mom to notice that Matt had slowly replaced all their framed family pictures with photos of Tom Selleck. Although, to be fair, her dad did have a slight resemblance.
“No prank. And I fully remember writing the note.”
“Your first workshop starts in ninety minutes, right? I’ll be down here with the catering truck and a to-go breakfast.”
“Matt, you can’t keep skipping work for me. Doesn’t your family arrive today?”
“Don’t worry about that. See you soon.”
The same words she’d written on the note to him. Talking to someone in the morning, comparing schedules...it almost felt like she had a companion. Someone doing life with her, almost like a team ready to start a daily match. Maybe married life could be like—
Isabelle stood up, throwing the beginning of the thought to the side. She reassembled her flash-drive necklace, put the laptop back in the safe and took a deep breath. It seemed odd to count on Darren Allen, of all people, to help her get a deal today. If she succeeded, she’d soon place the research into the hands of a company with the funds to offer high-grade security.
Everything would go back to the way it was. Which meant getting back to life without Matt.
It shouldn’t be that big a deal. She entered the elevator and pressed the Lobby button. She’d done life without him for years, happily and successfully. The silver doors opened. Matt shook hands with a couple about to head out the door, a smile on his face. She knew that look. He was good at his job. He’d found where he belonged. She imagined she had the same expression in the lab at home or when she took a group of schoolchildren on a tour of the tide pools.
Matt crossed the lobby to meet her. “How are you?”
“Amazing what a full night of sleep can do for a person.”
“Well said.” He waved her toward the side hallway. “We’re going to shake it up and use the employee entrance, just in case our taxi friends are watching for us.”
A small shiver ran up her spine. “Have you told your family about what’s been happening?” She should’ve offered by now to change hotels. Her stomach twisted at the thought of being alone, though. The Lord was always with her—she knew that much—but she didn’t want to do something foolish like making herself an easy target.
Matt cringed. “It didn’t hit me until this morning that since they were trying to shoot me, that might put them in danger. I tried to call this morning, but they’re already on a plane. They have a long layover in Los Angeles. I’ll try them again, but I’ve already decided that a target on me justifies hiring more security. I’ll be offering overtime shifts.”
As soon as she got back home, she would begin saving to pay Matt back for his kindness. Even if the money didn’t come out of his own pocket, she didn’t want his generosity to make his actions unfavorable in corporate’s eyes. Overtime had to run a pretty penny.
Matt turned to her. “One reason I moved up to the top so fast was my ability to streamline the operating expenses. We have enough reserve. So stop looking so guilty.” He smirked as if proud of himself for guessing her thoughts.
She didn’t want to admit that he knew her so well. She prided herself on being a woman of mystery, but it was hard to keep up that charade with Matt. The attempt to keep a straight face failed. “Okay. I’m glad.”
“If they do come, my family is going to love seeing you again.”
“Oh, please. As if they even will remember me.”
He shook his head. “You’ll see. Come on,” he said. “Let’s go save your institute.”
“Oh, did the police find any leads on the cab thing?”
Matt tensed. “I actually got a call this morning. They found the cab that picked us up, but the company claimed someone had stolen it just minutes before.”
She groaned. “So, another dead end?”
Matt hesitated.
“What is it?”
“The thing is, allegedly the business has ties to organized crime. There is a possibility that all those different guys who’ve been after you are part of—”
She gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A mafia of sorts is going after my research? That seems nuts.”
“Organized crime has one goal...profit. If someone wanted to hire their services, my guess is they’d consider it.”
“In other words, we’re no closer to finding out who is behind all this. What would they want with swarm intelligence?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t there a way you can skip all this and go straight to the Department of Defense for a grant? I mean, that would be the best option, right?”
“Ah.” He sighed. “Now it all makes sense. I have no doubt you’re going to get their attention when you give your presentation tomorrow.”
She held up her index finger. “First of all, there is no guarantee a representative will even attend. I’ve heard rumors that one has popped in to a few of the workshops but that doesn’t mean he’ll come to mine. Second, you have no idea what my presentation is.”
“Don’t need to. I believe in you.”
She dropped her hand. If only she believed in herself that much.
The entire day went by in a whirl. Matt insisted on being at the next table during her meeting with Darren Allen. If Darren asked, she’d say Matt was her bodyguard. That would be a rumor she actually hoped would spread...unless it put Matt in more danger.
It put her on edge that she had no one to trust inside the conference. Conventions such as this were supposed to bring people in the field closer together, but she’d experienced only the opposite thanks to the threat. Struther, Allen and even the conference organizer, Parveen, all gave her reason to be suspicious.
The meeting with Allen seemed more like a blip than the main event. She gave him the bare minimum of information, and he seemed to be excited. That almost worried her more.
“Let me talk to some of my people,” he said. And that was it. She had no promises of when he’d get back to her, and he didn’t want to reveal his contacts.
At five, Matt accompanied her back to the hotel, thanks to a ride from a former employee who was headed that direction after work anyway. She stepped out of the car as the man gave Matt a high five. “You seem to have a lot of former employees willing to give you favors. They were just that ecstatic to get away from you?”
“Can you blame them?”
“Very funny. No. Seriously, why do they like you so much?”
He gave a friendly wave at the security guard who, instead of sitting in the small office, stood guard right at the front of the entrance. She spotted another across the lobby, near one of the fire exits. “I try to find out what my employees’ goals are and help them reach them, even if that means giving them stellar recommendations elsewhere.”
Her mouth gaped. “That’s unheard of. Don’t you lose all your best employees?”
“On the contrary. Happy employees talk...especially the former ones who often send high-quality applicants my way.”
If she were the swooning type, that would’ve made her a bit wobbly. For her, having the thoughtful consideration to help employees reach their dreams ranked right up there with adopting rescue puppies.
They stepped into the elevator. She leaned against the back wall, soothed by the instrumental piano music piped into the speakers. It’d been a long day.
Matt’s family was due to arrive soon. At least, he thought so. He’d mentioned leaving a bunch of messages without a response. They probably had their phones turned off during travel. But when they arrived, she didn’t want to be in the way. She’d practically monopolized his time for the entire week.
Aside from avoiding feeling like a third wheel, she didn’t want to get used to spending every moment with him. Loafing in sweats and enjoying some of that room service he’d offered sounded like the perfect evening. Matt stood next to the panel of buttons and pressed her floor number.
A well-dressed man caught the closing door. “Excuse me,” he said. The man stepped inside. “Nine, please.” She wondered what business he was in. His spine looked straight as a rod.
As Matt looked up at the illuminated floor numbers on the strip above him, the man, who’d also been watching silently, pulled a fist back and slammed it into the back of Matt’s head so hard it bounced off the elevator wall.
Isabelle screamed and vaulted to the opposite corner of the elevator, cowering, as the man spun around to her. His eyes narrowed.
Matt flung an elbow backward into the attacker’s back. The man stumbled forward. She jumped to the side, barely avoiding a collision. The guy’s forehead hit the spot her head had been only a second prior.
Matt grabbed the red phone by the elevator panel and held it as if a weapon. “Stand down,” he yelled.
The man growled as he spun and launched, fists out, toward Matt. Swiping the phone downward, Matt hit the man’s left arm hard, though that didn’t prevent his right fist from crashing into Matt’s torso. Matt buckled over but managed to deflect the man’s knee from connecting with his face.
Isabelle shoved her hand in her skirt pocket. Her fingers gripped the cold metallic canister of the spray they’d bought yesterday. She sidestepped their fight and pressed against the elevator doors, positioned to jump out as soon as the elevator stopped. If only she could reach the elevator panel, she would hit the next floor so this violent ride would end.
She kept her hand in her pocket as she flicked the safety valve of the pepper spray up with her thumb. She shoved her thumb underneath the valve, ready to depress it at the drop of a hat. They were pummeling each other with an intensity that made her insides shake. She wasn’t sure she could get a direct shot if she tried. And if she missed, she’d set herself up for feeling the damaging effects of the spray in such a tiny, enclosed space.
The elevator dinged. The door slid open, and Isabelle stumbled backward into the hallway. “Stop it,” she screamed at the man. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as if she was his new target. She withdrew the pepper spray out of her pocket and pressed the button in one smooth motion.
The stinging sensation instantly hit her nose as the stream of spray shot at least twenty feet, hitting the side of the man’s face. It splashed off him, ricocheting all over the elevator as if someone had turned on the fire sprinklers. The assailant bellowed, retracting his fists to cover his own face. Matt also ducked his head, groaning.
With a sinking feeling, she realized she’d sprayed Matt, as well. “Help,” Isabelle shrieked, hoping someone could hear her and would call the police.
The man let out a rage-filled war cry as he turned and lunged for her.
TWELVE
Matt kept his right eye open and reached out to grab the back of the man’s shirt. His fingers brushed air. The burning sensation across his face, nose and eyes was so powerful he almost dropped to his knees.
The left side of his face felt like he’d flown too close to the sun while someone repeatedly bashed him with a cast-iron skillet. It went from severe sunburn to nuclear fission in two seconds flat. His left eye leaked so bad he couldn’t bear even to squint out of it, and his sinuses acted as if he’d swallowed a blowtorch.
Through his right eye, he could make out the forms in front of him. Isabelle jumped to the side as the man ran directly into the opposite wall. He thundered and reared to charge again when the man spotted something and changed directions. He barreled past them both, sprinting toward the end of the hallway, perhaps toward the stairs.
Matt strained to care. He wanted the burning to stop. He wanted to shove his head into a shower.
Isabelle pounded on the next two doors. “Help!”
One of the doors was opened by a woman with a phone.
Isabelle rattled off instructions. “Call the police, please. And give me the milk from your minibar. I promise to reimburse you!”
The assailant stopped at the ice machine next to the stairwell and hit the button to get a bucketful, catching cubes with his hand. Matt forced himself to run after him. The breeze generated from running soothed his face slightly. The guy caught sight of him coming, though, shoved the ice against his face and disappeared through the stairwell.
“Mat
t!” A deep voice from the opposite end of the hallway caught his attention.
One of his guards was running toward him. “We have security waiting for him downstairs and police on the way.”
“Good. Make sure to cover all the exits.” Being still, even for a moment, caused the pain to thrust to the forefront of his mind.
Isabelle ran to him. “Lie down. Now.” She held what looked like a plastic bottle of milk and a hotel washrag.
It was all he could do not to put his face underneath the ice machine. Instead he listened to her murmur words of encouragement as she poured the milk on his cheek, catching the streams with the rag. A moment later she draped the damp rag on his face. The milk began to soothe the pain. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He opened his right eye. “Pretty sure it’s my own fault. I insisted you carry it. Bought myself my own punishment.” Her face crumpled—compassion, worry and guilt written all over it. So, it probably wasn’t the best time to tease. “You did the right thing, Isabelle.”
“He’s right, ma’am. Matt, they’ve got him in custody.” The security guard held a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. “Watchman down. Caught in pepper spray. Please advise.” He held up the speaker to his ear.
“Watchman?” Isabelle asked.
Matt cringed. “When I put through the order to beef up security, they insisted on using code names.”
“Like the Secret Service?”
Matt took over holding the rag against his face so he could sit up. “Apparently the job can get boring.” The pain still throbbed underneath his skin, but the milk made it bearable.
“The watchman,” Isabelle repeated. “I like it.”
“If you stuck around, they’d probably give you one.”
“Willow,” the security guard interjected. He shuffled his feet as if he spoke out of turn. “She seemed like a person of interest.”
If he weren’t in such pain, he’d have been amused.
Texas Takedown Page 12