Deadly Testimony

by Piper J. Drake

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’ll trust me?”

  She stared at him. “I’ll be watching you to save you from your own stupidity. The minute you go back on your word, access to Wi-Fi and the tablet stops. You can stare at the ceiling for entertainment.”

  He snorted. “Understood. While I think I could do so for a few hours, I’d appreciate the option of video entertainment after a while.”

  “It’s only a few days until the court hearing.” She settled an earbud in her ear and activated the comm on the secure channel shared by Deputy Marshal Decker and Officers Weaver and Austin. “Scott here. We’re about as settled as we’re going to get.”

  Yeun adopted an uninterested expression and went into the bedroom to get a closer look.

  Decker’s voice came across the comm, his tone soft. “Decker here. I’m in place with eyes on the street.”

  “Weaver. We’re circling the block.” Weaver spoke at a slightly louder volume and the mic picked up some residual background noise that sounded like music in the car. She and Austin were the mobile response unit, easily able to move directly to action because they weren’t parked at all. That meant they had to take a circuitous route around the block or surrounding streets fairly continuously for periods of time.

  “Decker here. Marshal Nguyen would like to have a few words with you.” The inflection was slightly different. Strained?

  Isabelle frowned. “I’m not leaving my post.”

  Definitely not within minutes of arriving at the safe house.

  “This will be brief.” Decker’s voice took on a tone of reassurance. Which was creepy because thus far, he’d been a study in how to be neutral.

  She huffed and told him where she would be shortly. Stepping over to the bedroom, she rapped her knuckles on the doorjamb twice before entering.

  Yeun stood there, in the process of pulling a plain white T-shirt over his head. The majority of his torso was exposed and the man was a fantastic example of lean physique. Muscles rippled over his chest and lats. His abs were flat and sculpted in the kind of six-pack that made her want to run her tongue over them. And then there was the defined V of his hips leading the way down to...

  “I’m stepping out to get a snack. You want coffee? Hot chocolate?”

  He must’ve frozen when he heard her knock, but he finished pulling on the T-shirt. Tension she’d refused to admit was building eased a fraction once he’d covered up all those tempting muscles. He gave her a raised eyebrow look again and there was amusement in those eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.”

  She set her teeth. “It’s a thing. Does that mean you want some or no?”

  “I’ll take a cup of coffee, please. Dark as you can find with one raw sugar.” His mouth stretched into a lopsided grin. “And maybe a small cup of the hot chocolate. It’s been long enough, I wouldn’t mind giving it another try.”

  “I’ll be about fifteen to twenty minutes.” She started to back away, realized she was retreating. So she stopped. “You know the drill. Throw the dead bolts behind me. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’ll text you to let you know when to open the door for me. Stay away from the windows and definitely don’t open them. “

  He didn’t bother with a response but he glanced down at the bed.

  She followed his gaze and saw a pair of jeans laying there. Good grief, she’d caught him midchange. She raised her gaze back to his and there was real laughter in his eyes now. He placed his hands at his waist and started to undo his belt.

  “Come lock the door behind me first. Then you can finish changing.” Points to her for keeping her voice steady and firm. Still, she had been the one to walk in on him, even if he hadn’t closed the bedroom door or gone into the bathroom to change. “I am sorry I interrupted you.”

  “Not at all.” He might’ve stopped the process of taking off his suit pants but he’d left the belt unbuckled. “Thank you for offering to get coffee. I don’t suppose a hot entrée is forthcoming as well?”

  Isabelle sighed. “There are sandwich fixings and ramen noodles here for today. We’ve got easy access to plenty of food choices within the next couple of blocks. So why don’t I just get your coffee this evening and tomorrow I’ll see about hot takeout. Deal?”

  Professionally speaking, even five minutes was more than she wanted to spend away from her client the first day. Knowing he had already left his handlers when they’d trusted him to remain in his room the night before made her loath to trust him to stay put now. Contract or no.

  Personally, putting some distance between her and him seemed like a very wise idea. Her libido was coming unhinged and she needed to get her head back on straight. Stepping out for this meeting was her compromise.

  Yeun, for his part, sighed but held his hands out from his sides. “I’ll make a sandwich but the coffee better be good.”

  She grunted and swung a small backpack over her shoulder. “Good coffee is subject to the drinker. Lock the door behind me.”

  * * *

  Isabelle stepped out on the street and headed down Pine Street about a block or so, then turned on Post Alley to disappear into one of the small restaurants. She emerged with a different jacket on and her hairstyle changed, thanks to the addition of a small scarf. A few pieces of chewing gum stuffed in her cheeks changed the shape of her face.

  Tromping back up the street the way she’d come, she passed the entrance to the apartments and headed into the chocolate and wine store just a few yards up the street.

  The decadent scent of chocolate wafted to her from every direction. She bypassed the display case of handmade truffles from various chocolatiers around the city and made her way toward the back of the small shop.

  A small bar was set up, manned by a tall, thin girl with her dark hair held back by a handkerchief. She had a few random piercings and a ready smile. Her posture was relaxed and friendly, a reflection of the atmosphere of the entire shop.

  A man was already sitting at the bar with his back to the wall, a tiny espresso cup sitting on the bar at his elbow. He was dressed in dark, nondescript clothes. His skin tone was golden brown and his hair was clean cut.

  She approached, studying the specials listed on the sign just past his head as she took in his appearance. Shorter than average height, but she’d bet he was in shape. He’d have to be as a US Marshal.

  “Can I get you something?” the young girl asked cheerfully.

  Isabelle gave her a smile and her order. To go.

  “You sure you don’t want to have a seat?” The girl offered, waving a hand to the other three stools in front of the bar.

  “No thanks.” Isabelle shook her head. “I’m out to stretch my legs anyway. Take your time.”

  “Okay. Feel free if you change your mind.” A coworker entered the shop then, and caught the girl up in chatter about what to wear for a concert that night as she went about fixing the drinks.

  Perfect.

  “Good to meet you, Miss Scott.” The man murmured to her quietly, taking a sip of his espresso.

  She nodded. “You wanted to chat?”

  “Won’t take you away from your client for too long. He has a tendency to get bored and wander off.” Nguyen’s delivery was dry, maybe irritated but he did a good job of keeping it out of his tone.

  “So I saw.” It was safe to figure anything Decker knew, Nguyen knew as the senior US marshal overseeing the handling of Yeun as a witness.

  “This is the OEO’s first coordination with the Safeguard Division, and with Centurion Corporation as a whole.” Nguyen didn’t put his espresso cup down, instead nursing it.

  She didn’t blame him. The coffee and espresso were good here. Though the hot chocolate she’d come for was even better.

  “It is, however, not my first time working with the Centurion Corporation,�
�� Nguyen continued. “With that in mind, I will say I am looking forward to setting this as a precedent for positive cooperation in the future.”

  “I’m sure my lead will be glad to hear that.” Isabelle rolled her shoulders inside her jacket. This wasn’t anything he couldn’t say directly to Diaz. “There’s a point here, isn’t there?”

  Nguyen’s eyebrows drew together. “Just giving you context so you’ll take the next thing I have to say seriously.”

  Isabelle kept her face blank. “Noted.”

  “It’s our hope this will be an extremely simple job for you.” Nguyen sipped more espresso, purposefully slurping the liquid. “It might not be.”

  Isabelle grunted. “I glanced over the public records for this case.”

  Nguyen nodded. “Could be straightforward. Insurance fraud. Illegal dumping of hazardous materials in navigable waters. Or...it could be more complicated. Either way, our mutual friend is the pivotal testimony to prove it happened at all.”

  Interesting.

  “Why not put more marshals on the case then?” Because, generally, mixing up resources from this many different sources was a clusterfuck. Federal oversight, local law enforcement and private sector didn’t tend to play well in the same sandbox.

  “I was going to until Yeun requested to contract with Safeguard.” Nguyen shrugged. “It’s his personal funds and I know the quality of the resources coming out of your parent corporation.”

  Isabelle took an intuitive hop of logic. “And why increase your resources when the client is willing to do it himself? You do have the minimal force doctrine to keep in mind.”

  “Exactly.” Nguyen placed his empty espresso cup on the tiny saucer. “I do have an interest in making this joint effort successful where others may not. This could remain extremely simple or it could quickly become a bad situation. I wanted to advise you to keep a clear line of sight in every direction.”

  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 t
he 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.”