Colby Velocity (3 page)

He liked that about her. Gorgeous but not too perfect.

He seemed to like a lot of things about her.

“Did you have suggestions on where to begin?”

It wasn't until she asked the question that he realized she was openly watching him stare at her. He swallowed. Told himself to say something. “We should, of course, check out his residence. Often when someone feels cornered or afraid, he or she will hide information in a safe place in hopes of keeping a secret.” He didn't look away when he ran out of logical suggestions. No point pretending he hadn't been staring. She'd caught him red-handed. Twice now.

“We'll go there tonight when the police have finished their investigation,” she agreed. “The property will assuredly still be a crime scene, but hopefully the police will choose not to post a guard once their techs are finished.”

“They'll take his computer.” Rocky was a whiz with computers, but the chances of the cops leaving that behind were slim to none.

“They will,” Kendra echoed. She relaxed in the seat, turning her attention front and center once more. “But they don't know about Yoni's backup drive or where he keeps it hidden.”

Now that was a stroke of luck. “You obviously do.”

“I definitely do.” She shot Rocky a triumphant smile. “He recently moved it, but he gave me the location last night. Just in case.”

“He was aware on some level that the threat might go beyond a reputation assassination?” In Rocky's opinion the idea that the victim felt he was in physical danger put a slightly different slant on the case.

“He didn't say as much, but I got that impression. Yoni wasn't one to break protocol. He played by the rules.” She gave Rocky another of those pointed looks. “All the rules.”

Rocky studied her eyes, the certainty there, and the determined set of her jaw. “Once in a great while a true innocent is mowed down in a scenario like this, but only once in a great while. I'd wager your friend has at least one secret that'll surprise you.” He didn't have to spell out the glaring fact that Sayar did not want to go to the police.

Another of those long, awkward pauses lapsed with her staring directly into his eyes.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“If I'm right, you owe me lunch.” A long-awaited lunch, he didn't mention.

Her assessing gaze narrowed slightly. “You're on.”

He grinned, leaned into the headrest. Lunch was a given. Rocky had never met a man or woman, dead or alive, who didn't have at least one secret. Yoni Sayar surely had his.

“If you're wrong,” Kendra said, cutting into his victorious musing, “you have to wear a suit to the office every day for a week.”

Surprised, he looked her straight in the eye. “Something wrong with what I wear?” He was a jeans and boots kind of guy. Sure he wore the requisite button-down shirt and sports jacket, but never suits. Well, almost never. Occasionally he had no choice.

She shook her head. “Nothing a little polish and silk won't take care of.”

“Ha-ha.” He pretended to be annoyed but deep down he was kind of happy that she'd bothered to observe what he wore. She sure hadn't given the first indication that she'd looked at him long enough to notice. “Nice to know you care.”

“Appearances are everything, Rocky,” she said,
surveying the entrance to the airfield as the driver made the turn. “At the Colby Agency appearances are extremely important.”

His anticipation flattened. Her attention was related to business.

Like always.

Washington, D.C., Capitol Hill Diner, 1:55 p.m.

Kendra waited through the lengthy hold. When Castille's secretary returned to the line, Kendra didn't give her time to pass along the no she knew the senator had likely given. “I have to talk to him, Jean. It's urgent, as I'm sure you know.”

Rocky lounged on the other side of the booth they'd claimed once the lunch crowd started to dwindle, his expression resigned to the idea that she was butting her head against a brick wall. But he had to hand it to her; she didn't give up easily.

“Kendra, I wish I could help you,” Jean offered, her voice hushed. She wouldn't want to be overheard consorting with the enemy.

“I understand that an appointment is out of the question,” Kendra put in before the woman who'd worked with the senator his entire senatorial career could continue, “but if you can give me some hint
of his schedule for this afternoon I'll catch him on the run.” Kendra had some idea of Castille's daily agenda. Two years as his personal aide had provided significant insight into his usual activities. But it had been three years.

Things changed. So did people.

“What about his three o'clock at the club?” she prodded. During Kendra's tenure as his aide, Castille hadn't missed a Wednesday afternoon sit-down with
the boys
at the club. The Summit catered to high-level D.C. politicians and businessmen, providing classic luxury along with a three hundred percent markup on beverages. Membership was required for entrance, but the sidewalk outside was fair game as long as one wasn't a reporter. If any of the old staff remained, she might just get inside. But she wasn't betting on it.

“I can't confirm that he'll make that standing appointment today, considering what's happened,” Jean advised, her tone somber.

That was all Kendra needed. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.” Kendra closed her cell phone and gazed triumphantly at the man waiting across the table. “I can catch him around three.” The club was barely twenty minutes away. Arriving ahead of schedule wouldn't be a problem. In fact, it might work to her advantage.

“I'm impressed. The secretary must remember you more fondly than her boss does.”

Jean Brody had no children of her own. The sixty-year-old and Kendra had bonded very closely, but even that bond had never breached the woman's loyalty to the senator. What she had given today was a confirmation of something Kendra already knew. It was their mutual respect that kept Jean off Kendra's list of persons to interrogate. As well as the knowledge that no amount of persuasion would prompt the secretary to speak ill against Castille. She was a rare breed.

“You could say that, yes,” Kendra said in answer to her partner's assessment.

Rocky made an agreeable sound and resumed his monitoring of the street outside the wall of plate glass that ran the length of the diner's storefront. He was slightly out of his element but he hadn't let that cloud his attitude.

Kendra studied the man seated across the table from her. She didn't yet have a complete handle on his thought process regarding the case of her connection to the players. That he continued to act cooperatively went a long way in easing her concern about working with him. Not that he was a bad guy, he absolutely wasn't. But he was a former Equalizer and the merger with the Colby Agency had been a difficult pill to swallow to some extent for Jim
Colby's entire team. Most of the bumps were behind them now.

That her attention, despite the current situation, settled on the usual details about him annoyed her, but it was what it was. An unexpected attraction that could not be allowed to proliferate.

Rocky was tall, heavily muscled. Coal-black hair and unsettlingly vivid blue eyes. Everything about him somehow refuted his background. Reared and educated in Tampa by medical professional parents, he dressed like a cowboy—sans the requisite hat. From the first time she'd met him she'd fully expected the man to drawl out a “yes, ma'am” to match that swagger of a champion that attracted the eye of every female he encountered—including Kendra's. When he walked into a room he owned it, insofar as female interest was concerned.

As if she'd made the statement out loud, her partner swung his gaze back to her.

She rerouted her thoughts. “I left a voice mail for Wayne Burton.” Keep going with the details. Rocky had been in the restroom when she'd made that call. “He's a contact in D.C.'s homicide division I reached out to on occasion…before.” Before she'd recognized the writing on the wall and the hard cold fact that she was not cut out for this world. And before she'd tried a relationship with him that couldn't have fit in a million years. “I'm hoping
he'll agree to brief us on the path the investigation is taking at this point.”

Those startlingly blue eyes searched hers a moment as if looking for the motive behind her words. “A reliable enough contact you have reason to believe he would go out on a limb to give you a break in a potentially sensitive and high-profile case?”

Rocky wasn't asking about reliability. What he had actually asked was had she slept with Wayne Burton. His eyes confirmed her analysis. “Yes,” she said, unashamed. Wayne was reliable and she had slept with him. But that was history. History Leland Rockford had no need to know. She hadn't communicated with Wayne in three years…other than the occasional e-mail.

“That should make life a lot simpler.” Rocky plucked a cold French fry from his plate and popped it into his mouth. “For the case anyway.”

Kendra let the innuendo slide. She moistened her lips, shouldn't have stared at his, but it was difficult not to. He had very generous lips for a man. Everything about him was a contradiction. His appearance gave away nothing of his past life. His slow, methodical manner of conversing totally belied his state school academic record. The man was incredibly smart and far more insightful than
he apparently wanted anyone to know, including his current partner.

And yet he didn't seem to get how this was going to play out. “Nothing about this investigation will be simple,” she warned. “This is a community filled with secrets and powerful people who know how to keep the important ones—unless it benefits them somehow to share those secrets. We'll have to dig deeper and work harder for every single detail.”

Rocky propped his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Good thing neither of us is the type to surrender without a fight.”

She resisted the impulse to recline deeper into the faux leather of the booth to regain those few inches of distance he had claimed. He'd done this at the hotel when he'd insisted on opening the door to her room and seeing her inside before going to his room next door. He'd gotten closer than he'd dared before, had looked her directly in the eyes and spoke quietly as if what he had to say wasn't to be overheard. That it was somehow intimate. Maybe it was her imagination but she hadn't noticed him doing that before.

She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that he'd made her shiver. Something no other man had done with such ease.

Quite possibly she was making too much of it. She'd had zero sleep and Yoni's murder had her on
an emotional ledge. She stared at her untouched food. Her appetite was AWOL. But she needed to eat. Coffee alone wouldn't keep her on her toes.

She kept replaying every moment of last night's meeting with Yoni. What had she missed? Had he said anything at all that should have clued her in to the fact that he was in imminent danger?

How could she call herself a private investigator when she'd completely misread the urgency in a potential client she knew so well?

“You shouldn't beat yourself up.”

Kendra blinked. So now he was a mind reader? “I was just—”

“Thinking how you should have seen this coming?”

Definitely a mind reader. “Maybe.” Surely she'd missed something relevant in last night's meeting. Something he'd said…

“He failed to tell you everything.”

She wanted to challenge that assessment. To defend her friend…she had known Yoni as well as anyone who'd worked with him could have. But logic told her that Rocky had pegged the situation. Yoni had been worried enough to contact her, to draw her from her new life. Yet he hadn't once mentioned fear for his safety…only for his professional reputation.

“It's possible he had no idea the source of the
threat would go this far,” she proposed. “Frankly, his murder may prove unrelated to his reasons for coming to me. There's no way to guess.”

“But you don't believe that,” Rocky suggested with equal conviction.

“No.” Rocky was her partner in this assignment. Choosing not to be completely honest served no purpose. “I believe there is more…that he didn't tell me.” It pained her to say as much, but it was true. “If that proves the case, then he had a compelling reason for leaving me in the dark.” Yoni wouldn't knowingly put anyone in danger.

Rocky pulled out his wallet and dropped payment for their lunch on the table. “All we have to do is determine what that reason was.”

Kendra reached for the check the waitress had left, then for her purse.

“It goes on the same expense log,” Rocky reminded before sliding from the booth.

Giving herself a mental kick for again being slow on the uptake, she scooted across the bench seat and stood. “We should get into position to intercept Castille.”

“Since you know the way, why don't you drive?” He gestured for her to go ahead of him.

She inhaled a whiff of his aftershave as she turned to go. The scent caught her off guard. She'd spent the last several hours in his company, seated
right next to him and it wasn't until this moment she noticed the earthy masculinity of it. Despite the abundance of food smells surrounding her, his scent abruptly reached out and permeated her senses.

Sleep deprived. Frayed nerves. Too much caffeine.

After a good night's sleep she would be more herself.

But her friend would still be dead.

Summit Club, 2:50 p.m.

T
HE BROODING ARCHITECTURE
of the exclusive club blended into the row of brick and limestone structures that flanked the tree-lined street far enough from Pennsylvania Avenue to allow some semblance of separation.

Luck appeared to be on Kendra's side as she leaned against the bar on the side of the expansive dining room opposite the lobby entrance. The afternoon shift bartender who'd worked at the club three years ago was still on staff. He'd not only allowed Kendra and Rocky inside, he'd seated them at the bar with a wide-angle view of the entrance Castille would assuredly use.

“I'm still in shock.” Drea James shook his head as he checked his stock of liquors and whiskeys. “Yoni always made it a point to stop at the bar and say hello whenever he was here.” Drea shrugged, the
shock he spoke of evident in the listless move. “It's crazy. What's happening to this world?” He reached down for a replacement bottle of bourbon.

“Was he still dating that girl…?” Using a cliched ruse, Kendra tapped her forehead as if she was at tempting to recall the name.

“Leigh?” Drea frowned. “I don't think so. He always said he was too busy for a real social life.” After a moment's contemplation, he added, “She still asks about him though.”

“Really?” Kendra feigned surprise. Yoni not only hadn't mentioned a girl, neither had his parents. “Maybe she hoped they would get together again.”

“Wishful thinking,” Drea said somberly. He glanced around, then leaned across the bar. “Don't get me wrong, Leigh's a cool chick, but Yoni was way out of her league. That dude was going places.” He pointed to Rocky's glass. “More sparkling?”

Rocky held his hand over his glass. “No thanks.”

The bartender turned his attention back to Kendra. “I figure that's the only reason Leigh worked so hard to get a job waitressing here. She's looking for a sugar daddy. Know what I mean?”

Definitely. “I'd like to ask her a few questions. Will she be working tonight?” Whether she was
seeing Yoni now or not, anything this Leigh person had noticed or overheard could prove useful.

“Not tonight.” Drea furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “Tomorrow night for sure.”

“Maybe I could call her?” Kendra prodded. She wanted the woman's last name and address if she could get one or both.

Drea shook his head again. “I can't get over you being a PI now. That's wild.”

“It's a different world,” Kendra agreed. Telling Drea that Yoni had visited her in Chicago hadn't been on her agenda but the detail had compelled the bartender to open up. Yoni spent a lot of time in places like this meeting with colleagues and contacts. Any information she could obtain from this man might fill in numerous gaps. “The work has taught me that even the most seemingly insignificant detail can make all the difference in an investigation.”

Again Drea appeared to contemplate her words. As if he'd suddenly remembered something he picked up a pen and grabbed a cocktail napkin. “This is Leigh's cell number.” He scribbled on the napkin. “And her address.” He pushed the napkin across the bar. “You tell her I said she needs to share anything she knows with you.”

Kendra read the name. Leigh Turlington. “Thanks. This helps a lot.” She gave the bartender
a smile as she withdrew a business card from her purse and presented it to him. “And you call me if you hear anything at all related to Yoni.”

Drea examined the card. “You know I will.”

“Right on time,” Rocky said under his breath.

Kendra followed his gaze to the mirror behind the bar. The reflection of the room behind them showed Castille and two other men following the hostess to a table near one of the towering windows with a view of the street below. For added privacy, the dining room was located on the second floor.