“Front looks like a boutique risk-management firm,” he says.“Inside, it’s executive offices, training facilities, secured apartments for agents, operations hub in the basement that doesn’t officially exist.”A fond smile drifts over his face.“It’s really an incredible place the owner, Kynan McGrath, has created.”
“A fortress,” I murmur.“You guys don’t do subtle.”
“Subtle’s overrated.”His eyes meet mine again, steady and unreadable.“This would be the perfect place to keep you safe until this is all sorted out.”
I shake my head.“But you understand I’m staying—”
“Speaking of the team,” he interrupts, holding up his arm to glance at his watch.“We got to get going.Malik’s waiting for us.”
“Malik?Who’s Malik?”I ask, but Cole ignores me.
He grabs his laptop and opens the door to his apartment, tossing his head for me to precede him out the door.
“But I need a shower,” I protest.
“No time,” Cole says, jerking his head again.“Malik said eight a.m., so we need to be down there at eight a.m.”
No clue who the hell Malik is, but I take my first and only sip of coffee, risking a small glare from Cole that I’m not hustling.I set the mug down and look around for my briefcase.He had put all the documents as well as the flash drive in it last night and left it on his kitchen table.
“Where’s my briefcase?We’ll probably need that stuff.”
“I already got it in the right hands.”Cole makes a sweeping motion for me to get out the door.“Josie will have a handle on it by the time we get down there.”
“Who’s Josie?”I ask in irritation as I push past him into the hall.
“I’ll introduce you when we get there.”
We don’t take an elevator but rather a beautiful floating staircase of reclaimed timber that descends to the lobby, which is done in warm-toned wood planks, exposed steel ductwork and matte-black beams.
The far wall features oversized arched windows that look out onto South Main Street with Occidental Square across the way, the frames painted in a muted sage green.
To the left sits a long communal worktable in pale wood beneath a spiked orb chandelier, surrounded by mid-century leather chairs and industrial metal accents.Task lamps dot the surface.
At the center of the space is a seating area of caramel-colored leather couches arranged around a low rectangular coffee table.A white-tiled fireplace anchors the wall behind them, above which hangs a large framed black-and-white print of the Cascades at sunset.
And along the perimeter of the entire space are glass offices, each framed in the same sage green trim as the windows.Some offices are empty, but others have people inside working diligently.
“There’s no reception desk,” I point out, a detail that strikes me as odd for a lobby.
“Don’t need one.We’re a ‘by appointment only’ kind of business and the front doors stay locked.You have to be buzzed in.”
“Oh,” I murmur, a dozen other questions forming, but a beautiful blond woman appears before us.She’s dressed in a tailored camel-colored skirt that hits just below the knee and a silk white blouse.A wide brown leather belt with a bold gold double-ring buckle cinches her waist, sharpening the silhouette, and her heels look dangerous to walk in.She’s holding a digital tablet in one hand, a coffee tumbler in the other.
She smiles at Cole and turns her attention to me.“Good morning.You must be the journalist.”
“I must be,” I reply, holding out my hand.“Tessa Ward.”
“Josie McAdams.I’m the intelligence specialist who will be working with you.”
Well, that’s one mystery down.
Josie pivots and Cole follows, so I do the same.She leads us through a set of doors and down a corridor lined with conference rooms until she enters the last one.A huge table that could seat at least twenty takes up the room and a man sits at the end.He looks up and I’m taken aback by how handsome he is.His brown hair is longish to the shoulder and wavy, and like Cole, he has hazel eyes, although his seem to have more of a greenish hue.He can’t be more than thirty years old.
He stands up and rounds the table, his hand outstretched.“Tessa… I’m Malik Fournier, director of the Jameson Seattle office.It’s nice to meet you, although these are less than desirable circumstances.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I reply.
“Please… let’s all sit,” Malik says, motioning to the table.He resumes his seat at the end and Josie sits to his left, immediately setting up her tablet to type on a wireless keyboard.
