Читать книгу Sheikh's Rescue - Ryshia Kennie - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Take a good book.

It was a lighthearted statement. At least that’s what she had thought at the time. Now Zafir’s comment held new meaning. At the airport, the client’s round, olive-toned face had lit up at the sight of her as if she were a prize in a game of chance. But an hour later, she would have preferred the company of a good book to the client’s chatter and fawning eyes.

She remembered trying to lead him through the airport. He’d been distracted by everything. He’d stopped to stare out a window, claiming that he hadn’t seen anything so beautiful as that particular view of the Teton Mountains. And when she finally got his attention again, he’d asked that she call him Stanley and then followed her to collect his luggage. She’d had to nudge the duffel under his arm as she gathered his bags. She’d updated him on his living arrangements as she ushered him to the rental vehicle, but she wasn’t sure if he heard a word of it.

At the van, she’d slid the door shut after wrestling his bags into the backseat. Stanley had dropped the duffel by the back door and taken his seat without asking whether she needed help with his luggage.

On the way into Jackson, she asked him about the obviously expensive Nikon camera that he pulled out of its case shortly after they left the terminal. That’s when she’d found out that Stanley was a talker, at least about his passion—photography.

“How much farther?” His voice would have been average except for the slightly nasal whine.

“Five minutes,” she said shortly. She could feel his gaze on her but kept her attention on the snowy, and now icy, road. Her knuckles were white, and it wasn’t because of the driving conditions. She knew admiration when she saw it, but she knew it could also turn into something worse. Stanley kept glancing at her in a way she didn’t like. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through an assignment that would be not only a bore but annoying, as well.

“We’re here,” she said minutes later as she parked the van. It was the only vehicle the rental agency had left that served her purpose. She would upgrade it tomorrow. Once that was done, she could take Stanley to the places he’d identified were perfect for a photo shoot.

“I’d like to take your picture, too, if...”

“No,” she bit out. “I’m sorry. That was rather abrupt but no, I’m here to facilitate your trip.” An interesting way to put it, she thought. “Not be a subject for your photography,” she finished. “I’m sure we’ll find more than you can imagine as far as scenery and wildlife to photograph. You don’t need me.”

“You’re beautiful and...”

“No,” she repeated. “Enough. This is business, nothing more.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking rather abashed and completely out of his element.

But this time she was sorry, sorry for so many different reasons than he might think. Sorry for making him uncomfortable, sorry for taking this assignment. Although she had to admit that there was no choice in the latter. It hadn’t been voluntary.

Her attention went to the building in front of her. This was her headquarters for the duration of Stanley’s stay. The three-story red cedar apartment building was small but perfectly situated. She didn’t expect anything less. Leslie, Nassar’s relocation expert, had scouted the city and located this building. It had all the amenities the client requested as well as being easy to secure. The street was quiet, part residential and part business. Even now, mid-morning on a Saturday, there was little noise other than the soft drone of traffic on nearby roads. Stanley’s apartment was located on the second floor. The apartment above was vacant, as was the one below it. Combined with its small size, its low occupancy made the building even more perfect. She’d been briefed on the other occupants. All ten were trouble-free; none of them had criminal records. They ranged from two senior citizens to a professor currently on sabbatical overseas. The ground-floor apartment was assigned to Jade. The location was perfect for her to stay close for the duration of the client’s visit.

“Let’s go,” she said as she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the van door.

No response.

She looked over at Stanley. He wasn’t looking at her but rather chewing his lower lip, almost like he hadn’t heard her. Maybe he needed a moment, she thought. But her other thought was that the man was a bit odd.

She thought of Zafir. It was hard not to make the comparison between the two men. She had just recently met them both, and they were so completely different. Sinfully good-looking, cocky Zafir, she thought. She shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. But it was like she knew him. She’d studied every case he’d worked and heard stories of his exploits from his brother Faisal. In person, Zafir was more gorgeous and sure of himself than a man outside the pages of a men’s magazine should be, and yet there was something down to earth about him, too. He’d put her off balance, off her game. As a result, her first reaction was to snap at him.

Stop it, she told herself. He was her boss on this case and not a man to be lusted after. Besides, looks weren’t everything. She’d learned that the hard way. Give her a homely man with a great personality any day, or better yet, no man. At least not at the moment. She was enjoying her job too much, current assignment aside.

“This is it,” she said to Stanley, who hadn’t moved.

He had a slight smile on his face and a glow in his eyes as if excited by the idea, yet he hesitated to open his door.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I...”

He was looking uncertain, as if he had made a bad choice. Fine time to think of that now, she thought, now that he was here. Despite the thought, she was concerned. As long he was in the States he was her problem, and the last thing she needed was for him to fall apart.

His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the seat belt. “Nothing at all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I always react like this after a flight. Kind of a delayed reaction.”

An outright lie, she thought, noticing how his voice sounded thinner and he wouldn’t look at her. With any luck it was a temporary case of fear of the unknown. “Let’s get you settled,” she said. She got out and slid open the back door to get his luggage.

“The photography will be amazing,” Stanley said from just behind her. Now his voice sounded normal, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. There was nothing but anticipation in his tone. It was like he was trying too hard to hide his unease. “I can’t wait.”

“Wyoming is known for that, scenery. A photographer’s dream,” she agreed as she tried not to let her prejudice for all things Wyoming show. She supposed she’d already failed at that mission with her last sentence.

She went to step back and was stopped by Stanley. “Give me a bit of room,” she said as she leaned in and pulled his too-heavy suitcase from the backseat. Too heavy for anyone visiting for only ten days.

“Stanley,” she bit out as she backed up and her elbow bumped his soft midsection. “Move.”

A few minutes later, she slipped the key in the lock to the apartment door. She could almost feel him breathing. She swung around.

“Look, Stanley.” She hesitated, almost stumbling on the name. “If you want me to do my job properly, I need some space.” She wondered how many times she’d have to repeat that phrase.

He took a step back. He looked puzzled and anxious. It was becoming like a dance with two mismatched partners. She took a deep breath. As soon as she got his luggage inside, it was a dance that was going to end.

“In fact, wait here. Hold this.” She slipped the handle of the suitcase into his hand and turned to push the apartment door open. She was only mildly amused to hear the suitcase thump onto the floor.

“Having trouble?” she asked. She glanced over her shoulder. He was fumbling with his vintage suitcase. It had no wheels and a worn faux-leather cover. It was an oddity. Like Stanley, she thought.

Her hand dropped to her Colt. She had just purchased it. The gun had replaced her old standby Glock that had seen her through her training and first year. The Colt was an exciting purchase. She could hardly wait to see action with this in her hand. But so far, other than target practice, she had yet to use it.

She moved past the entrance, noting everything. White laminate floors, gray walls, a couch to the left, table to the right. There was nothing else. She had to be sure. Stanley and his suitcase were forgotten. This was business. There was nothing but silence and the ticking of... She pulled the Colt, reveling in the feel of it in her hand. Other women loved new clothes. She loved guns. The thought made her smile. Something clicked. She swung, pointing the Colt in the direction of the sound. It was nothing but a wall clock in the kitchen. Someone had plugged it in since the last time she’d been here.

“Is this necessary?” Stanley’s frightened voice came from the hallway.

She held up a hand to him, motioning him to be quiet. On another assignment, in a different place, ticking had meant something so much more sinister. This wasn’t such a case, she reminded herself. Still, she needed to make sure. No matter the high probability that there was no threat. If there was, she needed to eliminate it. After all, someone had paid her to do just that.

The kitchen and living area gleamed as if they’d been recently cleaned and infrequently used. She took a step in and then two—she did a visual sweep of the area. It was overkill, she knew that, but one could never be too safe. She’d learned that through her arduous FBI training. The experience had been put into practice during the last year with Nassar.

A minute, two—she went through the small one-bedroom apartment. All clear, exactly as it should be. She went to the hallway and gave Stanley what she hoped would be interpreted as a friendly smile. One more come-hither look from him and she might punch him, she thought, knowing that of course she wouldn’t. She was too professional for that, but...the thought was out there.

“Let me take that,” she said. She lifted his duffel bag and set it on the coffee table. “You might want to take the suitcase into the bedroom.”

“Fine,” he said, looking slightly bewildered.

She opened the blinds that masked the balcony, letting in a stream of feeble sunlight. The snowstorm was on its last legs. The snowfall was a thin curtain, unlike the thick flakes that had blanketed the area in a layer of white earlier in the day.

“You’ll have a good view, and I’ll be just downstairs while you’re here.”

“Living?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

“Yes. As long as you’re here, I will be, too.” Exactly ten days, she wanted to say, no more.

His face lit up at that like she’d told him she’d be his best friend. And she supposed that in a way, for a time, she would be.

“There’s a beautiful view of the mountains,” she said as she slid the glass patio door open. She could smell his aftershave as he approached. She’d first become aware of the scent at the airport terminal, where it had preceded him as he’d disembarked in a cloud that was as pleasant as the lingering smell of cooked fish. She’d felt some sympathy for his seatmates on the flight and even those who might have been sitting nearby. Stanley wasn’t one to slide into the background; everything about him was distinctive.

She turned her attention to the street. A vacant lot was directly across from them. Beside it there was a parking lot with only a few snow-shrouded cars. The lot was blanketed in snow and shadowed by the stark branches of winter-dead trees. She frowned. The trees and shrubs blocked her view. She could see nothing between the parking lot and the low-rise brick building beside it.

“This place is small,” Stanley said as he came up too close beside her.

She moved one step over and thought again how this game was getting very old. She glanced at him, but he was looking not at the view but behind her, at the apartment. She turned back to the street.

“That’s because it’s temporary.”

And because they were staying away from the luxury homes and condos that would be harder to secure. She pressed a finger to her temple. She could feel the beginnings of a headache.

He wasn’t going away. She needed to deal. She turned to face the only headache she had—Stanley.

“Often the hunters and skiers use this same lodging, but there aren’t many around this time of year. Right now there are a few permanents, or longer stays, I guess you’d call them, and you. But you won’t spend much time in the apartment.”

“I suppose.” He turned his attention back to the apartment. “What channels do I get?”

“No idea,” she said, not caring if she was abrupt. She watched as he went back inside. That was one thing no one had checked, television channels. She knew there would be something wrong with them. Stanley was a complainer. Since the airport, he’d had a list of minor complaints. They ranged from the length of time it took for the luggage pickup, to the hard seats in the rental van. The apartment was no different. It was too small, too little light, too... He was in the kitchen now, running a finger along the counter.

“What’s around here? To do, I mean,” Stanley said a few minutes later as he came up beside her. “Other than great scenery.”

“You didn’t research before you came?” She supposed he’d want to do something other than take pictures, but that wasn’t her problem.

“Yes, but... I thought you might...” He smiled a slightly slick smile, obviously another ploy for her attention.

That was it.

“Have a seat,” she said pushing him toward the couch just off the kitchen. She picked up a couple of brochures she’d seen resting in a small squat bookcase and tossed them at him. “Looks like you have some reading to do.”

The way he didn’t look at them. The way he dangled the brochures between his thumb and forefinger like they were tainted. All of it told her everything.

“You weren’t really needing that information, were you?”

“No,” he said, and blushed.

It was apparent that he’d only wanted a topic of conversation to connect with her. She didn’t have time for conversation. That wasn’t her job.

She turned and went back to the balcony, but made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She sighed, feeling sorry for him and his rather hangdog expression. “Come here. Check out the view.”

He stood a foot away from her. Unlike last time, this time he looked at the scenery. There was an expression of awe on his face and she wasn’t sure how he could have been so wrapped up in the apartment’s conveniences, or lack thereof, to miss the extraordinary view the first time he’d stood on the balcony. But Stanley appeared to be a man with a one-track mind. He was no multitasker. Now he gazed out at the snow-covered plains and mountains that swept around the city limits seemingly transfixed, like he’d just realized all of this was here. He lifted his camera and snapped a picture then two, three... She lost count. Stanley was finally in his element and she was forgotten. Ten minutes later he put the camera down with a small smile on his face.

“Thank you,” he said. “For picking me up. And putting up with me.”

“It’s what I’m paid for,” she said, trying to inject a touch of humor into the words.

“I suppose.”

“So what’s with the name? Stanley, I mean,” she asked.

He looked at her; his hazel eyes were awash in innocent confusion. At five-eight she almost looked eye to eye with him.

“I mean, it’s a nickname obviously. How’d you get it? Did your parents come up with the name?” She wasn’t overly interested. But it might serve to get to know the man she was supposed to protect just a bit better. Actually, it would help her get to know the man she would be chauffeuring around Wyoming. That was probably a more apt statement.

“No.” He shook his head. “It was a name my older brother gave me. It’s after a cartoon character. I don’t suppose you have the program here. Anyway, I got the name when I was two. The show hasn’t played in years. But at the time, he thought that I looked like the main character.” He shrugged. “Of course, when he gave me the nickname, he was little more than a kid himself.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. How could they have missed the existence of a brother? The file listed no siblings. In fact, the closest relatives listed were an uncle and two first cousins. Then there were only distant relatives listed in order of succession. It was a major oversight, and it had her immediately concerned. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t,” he said rather sadly. “Not anymore. He died a few years before my mother.” He cleared his throat. “Accident,” he said with a rasp to his voice. “His death destroyed my parents.”

For the first time, her heart went out to him. It was tragic, and he said it so nonchalantly. The hurt in his eyes told her that wasn’t how he felt about the tragedy.

It was interesting how she’d had to tweak the profile she’d established for him. He was annoying but he wasn’t arrogant; instead he had expectations. He was socially awkward, especially around the opposite sex. She wasn’t sure if that was just her. The most surprising had been his compassion. There was a lot she still didn’t know, as the file hadn’t spoken to personality. But what she did know was that he was basically a good egg.

“Don’t hit it!” he’d yelled when she’d swerved for an elk on the way from the airport.

“Oh my goodness,” he’d said after the animal had dodged into the bush. “I’m so glad you did that. That you were able to swerve like that.” He’d taken a slightly strangled breath as if he’d been holding it. “That he lived.”

In that moment, she could have forgiven most of Stanley’s annoying behaviors, at least the ones she’d recently suffered through, when he displayed that kind of compassion for a wild animal. Add in that he was the client, and they were never wrong, and he was in a pretty good place. For the first time she relaxed and smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said in reference to his brother. According to the file, his mother had died twenty-two years ago. His father had died a few years after that of a heart attack. She wondered what else the file might have missed.

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “He had a good life. Just short.”

She looked at him with a frown. It was an odd thing to say about losing a brother, as far as she knew, his only sibling. Since it was accidental, she imagined it had been tragic—definitely sudden. She had questions, but she asked none of them. None of it was relevant to the case.

Instead she mulled over the strangeness of Stanley’s response. Everyone dealt with grief differently, but she was curious. She started to say something and then stopped.

Before she could consider the matter further, there was a movement to her right. Her attention immediately focused on the cluster of stark, leafless trees on the edge of the parking lot. They were across the road, and her mind quickly calibrated the distance. Approximately one hundred feet to the right—shooting distance. She tensed, but her eyes never left that location.

“Go inside,” she said over her shoulder. She wasn’t taking any chances, code white or not. She could hear him breathing behind her. He wasn’t listening, as usual. It was strange that they had a usual in the short time she’d known him. That was the one intriguing thing about him, despite his oddness—it was easy to develop a rapport with him. She shoved the thoughts back.

She focused on the change across the street, the potential threat. She doubted it was anything. But she wasn’t taking the chance. She needed to focus on one thing, and that was keeping Stanley safe.

Something flashed across the street, like sunlight on metal. She looked up. There was a break in the cloudy sky and a glimmer of sunlight.

With her Colt in her right hand, she moved close to Stanley, pushing him back with her left.

One sparrow, then two flew out of a low-lying bush that edged the parking lot. They flew diagonally down the street, the two joined by two more, as if they’d been disturbed.

“Get inside. Keep down,” she commanded.

He looked at her, puzzled, his mouth working as if he were about to protest. She gave him another little shove when he continued to stand there.

It could be nothing. But she’d rather overreact and have Stanley safe. The other option wasn’t worth considering. For that meant failure, and she’d never failed... The thought trailed off. Now all senses were on alert.

Something was off.

She peered over the balcony. The snow was lessening, but the wind was picking up. A stray fast-food wrapper was tagged by the wind. It seemed to skip across the street. She watched as it tumbled in the direction where, if she were to pinpoint trouble, she’d point there. But there was no evidence of anything. Just the same superficial signs and now nothing. The only noise was that created by the wind. The break in the clouds disappeared, and everything seemed dimmer.

She might have imagined it. The possibility was high. She wasn’t sure if there was trouble or not. What she did know was that her instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. It was hard to pinpoint what had been the defining moment that had triggered her full attention. But now she was on and ready for action.

Seconds ticked by.

“What are you listening for?” There was a demand in his voice; it carried the edge of expectation, like someone who had always gotten his way.

A shot rang out, cutting off anything else he might have wanted to say. The glint of something, a glimpse of blue-black, a gun—or maybe that was just her imagination. The shot had been real. It seemed to come from exactly the spot she’d mentally marked as a potential problem area.

“Get down!” she shouted as Stanley let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a yip and a shriek. She hurled herself down and back so she was within range to take him down by force if necessary.

“What’s going...” he began as she had him by the arm, taking him down, too.

“Shut up! Stay there!”

She got up in a half crouch while giving him a bit of a push on his chest to remind him to stay down. She turned her back to him, moving toward the railing. Cement, she thought with disgust. The railing was a solid block of cement. Great protection and lousy visual. The only way to find the perp was to make herself vulnerable and lift her head over the edge.

Another shot.

Seconds ticked by. A minute, then two.

A rush of movement to her right and a crash directly below her.

She was blinded by the balcony. She looked to her right. The ceramic planter that had sat on the railing had been taken out. It had crashed into the parking lot. Hit by gunfire, she was sure, considering everything that had happened in the last few minutes. But the sound had been muted and the only real alert was what had followed, the noise of pottery shattering. She bet that whoever was shooting at them was now using a silencer. Why hadn’t he used it for the first shot or even the second? That was a mystery she might never have the answer to. Unnecessary question, unnecessary information, she told herself. But the shadow that flitted from one dead tree to the next and where the last shot had come from wasn’t. This might be her only chance. She took aim and fired.

She glanced back. Stanley was on his knees in a position that in yoga was called a prayer position. The only difference was that his hands were covering his head.

She turned back to the balcony. She scanned the street. She doubted she’d hit anything. There’d been no evidence of her taking out anything more than the bark of a tree.

Whoever was out there would not want the attention of the sheriff. She had to assume that they would shoot only when they spotted a target, that they would not fire needlessly and create extra noise and, potentially, undue attention. She moved slowly, trying to find a place to see and not be seen.

Her Colt was clutched in both hands as she considered the next move. Everything had changed. The white-coded, dull little assignment had just been upgraded.

To code red.