Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emmett stood with his team near the suite’s balcony door. Arms crossed. Hands fisted. Back teeth clenched together with an unyielding sense of fury and regret. Their client had nearly died today because they had no idea she’d become a target, too.
He should probably be concerned about his future with R.I.S.C. Or, at the very least, his future as Echo’s team leader. But in that moment, what filled Emmett’s mind the most was how he’d nearly lost Janie before even having the chance to know her.
Not as a client, but as a woman. A strong, beautiful woman who’d been viciously attacked in a place where she should have been safe.
You didn’t keep her safe. This is all on you.
The memory of her screaming his name through the phone was something Emmett knew would haunt his dreams.
“She’s okay, boss.” Gwen’s soft words of comfort were kept low, presumably so those around them wouldn’t overhear.
“I know.” He swallowed hard, the rough, unintended words meant for himself, more than her.
This was on him. He should have known Janie could get caught in the crosshairs of whomever had taken Amy Weaver from her home.
You know, now.
Hell yes, he did. And he’d be damned if whoever hurt Janie got the chance to ever do it again.
“The woman almost died less than a half-hour ago, Winslow.” Blake slid his blue gaze to Gwen’s.
“No way she’s okay this soon after something like that.
Hell, I’m not okay.” When she shot him a questioning stare, he added an explanatory, “I’m pissed that the asshole who did this somehow managed to get away. ”
“We all are,” Gwen’s expression was tense. “But it’s not like we had any way of knowing something like this was going to happen. I’m just thankful Emmett had the idea of bringing her dinner. Otherwise . . .”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but the words weren’t needed. Every member of the team knew exactly what would have happened had they not gotten to her hotel when they did.
“I say we use it.”
He and the others all turned Lucas’ way.
“Use it?” Emmett frowned.
Lucas gave a broad shoulder a shrug. “Why not? The way I see it, we’ve got two choices. We can either stand here, blaming ourselves for what happened, or we can use it. Try to connect more of the dots.”
“What dots?” Draven’s tone remained as hushed as the others’.
Blake leaned in a bit closer. “The security footage, for starters. But I don’t want to risk accessing it until the cops and forensic techs have cleared the scene.”
Emmett returned his attention to Janie, who’d just stood from the chair and was walking slowly in his direction. Without a word to his team, he began moving that way. The two met in the center of the suite’s living room space.
“What did the paramedics say?”
“That I’ll probably be sore for a few days, but other than that, and a black eye, I’ll live.”
Her words pulled his gaze to the place where she’d been struck. His chest tightened at the sight of her red, bruising skin.
“You should put some ice on that.”
“You mean this?” She held up a disposable ice pack he hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying.
Without thinking, he took that same hand in his and carefully guided it to her face.
“It’s not going to do much good if you don’t keep it there.”
For a handful of seconds, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Standing. Staring. Becoming lost in their own silent thoughts.
Janie’s jaw hinged open, but she was interrupted before ever having the chance to make a sound.
“Miss Reynolds.” A man who looked to be around Emmett’s age joined them. “I’m Detective Lincoln Boone, and I’m with the Capitol Police Violent Crimes Division.”
Tall. Dark hair. A matching, well-trimmed beard. Eyes that hid a lifetime of demons.
“Nice to meet you, Detective Boone.” Janie greeted the suited man with a smile. “And please, call me Janie.”
Her smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes, which only added to the fury simmering just below the surface.
If she’d died today, her blood would have been on my hands.
“Good to meet you, too, Janie. I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through today.” Boone gave her a friendly shake before turning his attention Emmett’s way. “And you are?”
“Emmett Shaw.” The two shared a firm handshake.
“And how do you and the victim know each other?”
“I’m not a victim, Detective Boone, I’m a survivor,” Janie chimed in. “And Emmett is my . . . friend.”
“Friend,” Boone repeated the word as if he were deciding whether to believe the claim.
Friends.
They’d go with that. For now. But if this guy was worthy of the badge on his hip, he’d figure out the truth sooner rather than later.
“What happens now, Detective?” Janie asked Boone, crossing her arms at her chest.
She sounded stronger than even minutes before. Her chin high in defiance of having been called a victim.
If the situation weren’t so damn serious, Emmett would have smiled at her rebuke of the well-intended label. And though he had no right to do so he couldn’t help but to be proud.
Detective Boone reached inside his gray sportscoat, retrieving a small notebook and pen.
To Janie, he answered, “Now, I need you to tell me everything you can remember. Even the small stuff can help.” He clicked open the pen with a slight smile.
“You’d be surprised at how many times cases similar to yours have been broken wide open by the most obscure detail. ”
Emmett stood at her side and listened intently as she walked the detective through the events that had recently transpired. By the time she was finished, the anger he’d felt earlier had returned with a fiery vengeance.
“You didn’t see his face; is that correct?” Boone made a few notes in his tiny notepad.
Janie carefully gave a slow shake of her head. “He was wearing a ski mask. Black nylon. The kind that covers everything but the eyes and mouth.”
“What about his hands? Did you happen to notice any unusual markings or tattoos? Anything like that?”
“He was wearing gloves,” she told him, shooting down the man’s presumed hopes of finding any useable prints. “They were also black. Leather. Genuine,” she added in a rush. “Not the fake stuff.”
After jotting down those facts, Boone asked next, “Any guesses on his height and weight?”
“He was tall.” She turned those gorgeous eyes Emmett’s way. “How tall are you?”
“Six-five.”
“I’d say your guy is closer to six-two. Maybe six-three. And he was Caucasian. I could see the skin around his eyes and mouth. Oh, and his lips were thinner than Emmett’s, too.”
“Tall, white, thin lips,” Boone muttered as he wrote. “Got it. What about his eyes?”
A visible shiver raced down Janie’s spine, making Emmett wish he could pull her to his side for comfort.
“They were green.” Her delicate throat worked an audible swallow. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forget them.”
That last part pulled at heartstrings Emmett had no idea he possessed. He suddenly found himself wishing he could erase those awful memories for her forever.
“Did you see what he was wearing?” Boone continued.
“He had on a black, zip-up jacket, black pants, and black shoes.”
The woman’s precise recollection in the face of such a terrifying situation was impressive as hell. Most people would be too overwhelmed by shock and fear to remember even the most basic details, let alone all the information Janie had shared.
She’d also done a damn fine job of holding herself together. Even in the moments immediately following her attack, the beautiful brunette never once broke down or lost her composure.
Only a single tear had fallen. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d fallen into a sobbing, blubbering mess. But Janie Reynolds had proven herself to be a fighter. A survivor who hadn’t given up, even in the very moment she thought she was going to die.
“That’s great, Miss Reynolds. This is all very helpful. I think I just have one final question, for now.” The detective looked up from his notes. “Did the man who assaulted you say anything while he was here?”
“Yes.”
He did?
“He did?” Boone’s brows arched high.
It was the first Emmett was hearing of this, but to be fair, they’d been a bit pre-occupied since everything happened. He’d been so focused on making sure she truly was okay, that by the time the medics and cops arrived, they’d only had time to learn the basic details of the actual attack.
“What did the asshole say?” he growled.
Boone’s dark stare moved his way. But Emmett ignored the other man and focused on Janie, who’d just pulled her bottom lip in nervously between her teeth.
“Like I already explained, I knew Emmett and the others were almost here, and when I called him, it somehow ended up on speaker. He could hear me screaming for help, and we could hear Emmett yelling that they were already on the elevator.”
“So the assailant knew he needed to leave before your friends arrived.”
Janie nodded, her almond eyes sliding back over to Emmett’s. “He knew he was running out of time.”
“You mentioned the man said something to you before he left?”
The detective’s question had her breaking eye contact to look that way. “He said the next time I see him I won’t be so lucky.”
Son of a—
Emmett ran a frustrated hand over the scruff on his jaw to keep from spewing out the run of curse words filling his head. That was it. Everything they needed to prove Janie had become a target.
But whose?
“Okay, Miss Reynolds.” The other man put his tiny notebook away. “I think I have everything I need for now. I suggest you stay somewhere else tonight. Preferably, not alone.”
“She won’t be alone.”
Not until they found the man responsible for nearly taking her life.
Janie shifted her stance to face him more fully. “I won’t be?”
Emmett gave no specifics but simply slid his head from side to side.
“Good.” Boone seemingly agreed. He scanned the room and stated with confidence, “Looks like my techs are about finished processing the scene.” To Janie, he said, “If you’re feeling up to it, Officer Harlowe is waiting to take your official statement.
It’ll keep you from having to make an unnecessary trip down to the station later on. ”
“I’d definitely rather get that over with now.” She removed the ice pack from her beautiful, weary face.
With a stolen glance Emmett’s way, Janie left to sit at the small kitchen table at the other side of the room.
“Now that she’s out of earshot…” Boone kept his voice so low only Emmett could hear. “You want to tell me why you and your team are really here?”
The unexpected comment left Emmett blinking. “I’m sorry?” He faced Boone head-on, casually sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
A smirk lifted one corner of the other man’s mouth. “Cut the crap, Shaw. I know who you are. I also know who they are.” He motioned to the four Echo members waiting quietly in the wings.
“Then I guess you have us at a disadvantage, Detective.”
They locked eyes before Boone looked away with a humor-filled huff.
“Talia Foster.” At first, that was all the man said. But then, “She told me you wouldn’t be an easy nut to crack. Looks like she was right.”
Talia?
“You know Agent Foster?”
“Former agent,” the man corrected him. “And yeah. My unit assisted with one of her Homeland cases when she first got to the city. I must admit, I was more than a little surprised to hear that she’d resigned.
Almost as surprised as hearing she’d moved to Chicago and married one of your fellow R.I.S.C. operatives.”
Emmett assessed the man’s unwavering gaze, making a mental note to have Blake vet this guy the first chance he got. “Janie’s a client,” he revealed.
“Why’d she hire your team?”
His lips formed a shallow smile. “That information is confidential. I’m sure you understand.”
“Can you at least tell me whether what happened here is connected to her reason for seeking the services of your team?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
Did he believe Janie’s assault was related to her investigation into Amy Weaver’s disappearance? Damn straight, he did. But knowing and proving were two separate things.
“You don’t trust me yet.” Boone rested his hands on his hips and sighed. “I get it.”
“I don’t trust you because I don’t know you, Detective.”
“It’s okay. That’ll change.” He slapped a hand to Emmett’s shoulder with a grin. “In fact, I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends. And hey, next time you talk to her, be sure to tell Talia I said hello.”
Boone didn’t say anything more before walking over to the table where Janie still sat. Emmett watched a beat longer and then went and joined his team. They were as shocked as he was to learn the detective in charge of the case was familiar with them and their work.
“This could be a good thing for us,” Draven was quick to point out. When they all looked at him like he’d grown two heads, he said, “What? Having a friendly face within the Capitol Police Department might actually help us down the road.”
“If he can be trusted.” Gwen shrugged. “I’ll call Talia as soon as we’re away from prying eyes to get her take on Boone.”
“Good.” Emmett crossed his arms again while scanning the scene. “Once they’re gone, Blake can access the hotel’s cameras. With any luck, there will be something on there that can help ID the bastard who broke in here.”
“What about tonight?” Lucas looked to Emmett for an answer. “I’m assuming Janie’s not staying here.”
“I’ll get in touch with Ryker.” He referred to the team’s former—and temporarily current—Homeland Security Handler. The powerful man had safe houses secured all over the country. “When these guys leave, we’ll help her pack and get her tucked safely away for the night.”
Because someone out there wanted Janie dead, and he wasn’t’ about to let that happen.