forgotten once the crisis was over.
Somehow, explaining away his attraction to Emma as a conditioned response felt safer than admitting the woman got to him on a more basic level.
While Gabe sat waiting, dawn came sneaking into the room like a coward. Gabe hated dawn and dusk. Too many shades of gray. He liked his world black or white. That’s what bothered him about Emma. She had too many shades of gray.
When his bathroom door finally opened, Emma walked into the room wearing the pair of jogging pants he had hanging on the back of the door. They puddled on top of her feet and she held the edge of the waist as if she weren’t sure the drawstring was tight enough. She didn’t look like much of a threat to anyone.
What on earth have you done to get yourself into this mess, Emma?
“I was cold.” She tugged on the pants. “Hope you don’t mind.”
He tilted his head toward the other chair. “I mind a lot. But not about the pants. Take a load off,
Miss Quinn
. Or should that be Mrs.?”
She blanched at the sound of her last name, but sat down. “No.”
“Good.” Gabe leaned up in the chair and braced his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together and gave her a look that brooked no refusal. He was done playing games. “Tell me.”
FIVE
“Where do you want me to start?” Emily asked.
“Let’s start with how you know Patrick.”
She tried not to tense up, but he began with the question she was least prepared to answer. She forced herself to meet his gaze and not look away while she told as much of the truth as possible. “He was assigned to me for a while.”
“You’re a witness.” It was a statement, not a question. He could have been conducting a military debriefing for all the emotion he showed in his face.
“Not anymore.”
“But you were.”
“Yeah. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m in this mess because I saw a man put a gun in a trash can.”
“Explain.”
“It’s like corroborating evidence. I didn’t see him pull the trigger, but I can place him at the scene with the murder weapon in his hand. Afterward the marshalssaid it was one in a million. The hit man had one of those plastic guns you can get through X ray. The marshals told me the hit was supposed to be done in the men’s room; seems the victim
always
made a detour into the bathroom before boarding a plane.”
“But this time he didn’t make that pit stop.”
“No, he went straight to the gate and sat off in a corner. And that’s where he quietly died, with his baseball cap pulled over his eyes like he was trying to sleep.”
“I assume the hit man used a silencer?”
“They said so. I didn’t hear the shot. I looked up and saw a man put what looked like a gun in the trash can. It took a couple of seconds to register. Someone hollered that a guy had been shot and then it clicked. I yelled, ‘He did it! He had a gun!’ in the middle of the Los Angeles airport.
“Everyone hit the deck when they heard ‘gun,’ but some young Nebraska-corn-fed security giant with more guts than brains was standing right next to him when I pointed. He tackled the guy, wrestled him to the ground, and sat on him. Between the two of us, we managed to blunder our way into apprehending a bona fide wiseguy—Joseph Bookman. It was one of those freak accidents. A split second in time.”
He pondered that for a moment, made calculations in his head, and asked, “When was this?”
“Three months ago.”
“This wouldn’t have gone to trial already.”
“No.” She shifted uneasily in her chair. She knew where he was going with this.
“That means you haven’t testified yet, Emma.”
“I’m not going to testify. I’m not cooperating any longer.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You don’t just ‘decide’ not to cooperate.”
Emily bit her tongue on the truth and told a half-truth in its place. “The price for their protection is too high. They want me to have plastic surgery to change my
Somehow, explaining away his attraction to Emma as a conditioned response felt safer than admitting the woman got to him on a more basic level.
While Gabe sat waiting, dawn came sneaking into the room like a coward. Gabe hated dawn and dusk. Too many shades of gray. He liked his world black or white. That’s what bothered him about Emma. She had too many shades of gray.
When his bathroom door finally opened, Emma walked into the room wearing the pair of jogging pants he had hanging on the back of the door. They puddled on top of her feet and she held the edge of the waist as if she weren’t sure the drawstring was tight enough. She didn’t look like much of a threat to anyone.
What on earth have you done to get yourself into this mess, Emma?
“I was cold.” She tugged on the pants. “Hope you don’t mind.”
He tilted his head toward the other chair. “I mind a lot. But not about the pants. Take a load off,
Miss Quinn
. Or should that be Mrs.?”
She blanched at the sound of her last name, but sat down. “No.”
“Good.” Gabe leaned up in the chair and braced his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together and gave her a look that brooked no refusal. He was done playing games. “Tell me.”
FIVE
“Where do you want me to start?” Emily asked.
“Let’s start with how you know Patrick.”
She tried not to tense up, but he began with the question she was least prepared to answer. She forced herself to meet his gaze and not look away while she told as much of the truth as possible. “He was assigned to me for a while.”
“You’re a witness.” It was a statement, not a question. He could have been conducting a military debriefing for all the emotion he showed in his face.
“Not anymore.”
“But you were.”
“Yeah. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m in this mess because I saw a man put a gun in a trash can.”
“Explain.”
“It’s like corroborating evidence. I didn’t see him pull the trigger, but I can place him at the scene with the murder weapon in his hand. Afterward the marshalssaid it was one in a million. The hit man had one of those plastic guns you can get through X ray. The marshals told me the hit was supposed to be done in the men’s room; seems the victim
always
made a detour into the bathroom before boarding a plane.”
“But this time he didn’t make that pit stop.”
“No, he went straight to the gate and sat off in a corner. And that’s where he quietly died, with his baseball cap pulled over his eyes like he was trying to sleep.”
“I assume the hit man used a silencer?”
“They said so. I didn’t hear the shot. I looked up and saw a man put what looked like a gun in the trash can. It took a couple of seconds to register. Someone hollered that a guy had been shot and then it clicked. I yelled, ‘He did it! He had a gun!’ in the middle of the Los Angeles airport.
“Everyone hit the deck when they heard ‘gun,’ but some young Nebraska-corn-fed security giant with more guts than brains was standing right next to him when I pointed. He tackled the guy, wrestled him to the ground, and sat on him. Between the two of us, we managed to blunder our way into apprehending a bona fide wiseguy—Joseph Bookman. It was one of those freak accidents. A split second in time.”
He pondered that for a moment, made calculations in his head, and asked, “When was this?”
“Three months ago.”
“This wouldn’t have gone to trial already.”
“No.” She shifted uneasily in her chair. She knew where he was going with this.
“That means you haven’t testified yet, Emma.”
“I’m not going to testify. I’m not cooperating any longer.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You don’t just ‘decide’ not to cooperate.”
Emily bit her tongue on the truth and told a half-truth in its place. “The price for their protection is too high. They want me to have plastic surgery to change my
Similar Books
