St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

“Haven’t you?”
    The tears shining on Kayla’s shadowed cheeks were her only answer.
    “The master correspondent account you set up is nothing but a conduit for dirty money, isn’t it?” Thomas asked sadly. “A conduit greased by hush money, bribes, and corrupt employees.”
    “I’m not one of them,” she said hoarsely, her voice breaking. “I’m being set up by Andre Bertone. I didn’t know where the money came from, someone tried to kidnap me, and all I did was try to follow the rules.” She put her face in her hands. “My God, who will believe me now?”
    Thomas let the silence stretch…and stretch…until the sound technician got the hint and turned up Kayla’s mike. Soft, muffled sounds came from behind her hands.
    “Cut,” Martin said. “First-class work, Brent. That’s it for tonight. Okaaay, who’s ready for a beer?”
    Faroe’s grip shifted from Rand’s wrist down to the fist he had made.
    “Don’t clock Martin,” Faroe said. “He’s on our side.”

36
    Royal Palms
Saturday
11:55 P.M. MST
    F ragrant steam swirled around Kayla’s head, making her feel even more like she’d been cut loose from reality and was spinning off into an alternate universe.
    Nice try. Doesn’t fly. There’s only one reality, and I’m stuck up to my lips in it.
    Bertone, dirty money, knives, and all the rest.
    She nudged the controls. The jets shut off. The water slowly stilled. Fragrant steam still rose around Kayla’s head.
    Okay, some of my reality isn’t bad.
    Without meaning to, her thoughts went straight to Rand. When she’d looked up from her televised pity party, he’d been watching her with feral green eyes. The muscles on Faroe’s arms had been rigid, as was Rand’s fist in the other man’s grip. After a few moments Rand had jerked himself free, gone to Kayla, and pulled her into his arms.
    Normally she would have resented a man’s protective hug, but not that time. She’d hung on to him like the safety line he was.
    A very polite safety line.
    He’d brought her to the luxurious two-suite bungalow, pointed out the Jacuzzi, and closed the door separating her suite from the shared living area. The door had made a soft, final click as it shut.
    Followed by the sound of him going out the front door of the shared area and locking it behind him.
    A gentleman.
    Both of them knew her defenses were gone. If he’d wanted to make a pass, she’d have jumped to catch it. She was scared, ashamed, wrung out, and in need of comfort.
    Well, the Jacuzzi is pretty damned comforting. And it doesn’t need to be complimented on its performance.
    So she lay there with relaxed muscles and her mind racing like a squirrel on speed.
    Screw this. Any more hot water and they’ll have to iron me before they put me on camera again.
    She fiddled the stopper out with her foot, stood, and wrapped herself in a cushy robe that fell to the top of her toes and fingertips. The living area that separated the two suites was empty.
    Kayla told herself she wasn’t disappointed.
    She went to the built-in bar and decided that whoever had researched her background was thorough—a bottle of Grand Marnier awaited her.
    “Now I’m scared. Or I ought to be.”
    Mostly she was grateful.
    She took a few cubes of ice from the bucket, dumped them in a squat whiskey glass, added a little water, and poured a splash of liqueur in on top. Sipping it, she fought the need to pace, to think.
    To scream.
    None of that will do me any good.
    Take Rand’s advice.
    Relax, damn it!
    She turned off the lights, closed the door of her suite behind her, and went to the bungalow’s private, walled-in patio, which opened off the shared area. The flagstones underfoot were heated. The air was cool shading into cold. The water dancing in the triple fountains shut out other noises. As her eyes adjusted to darkness, she enjoyed the subtle flash and shift of moonlight over the fountains placed at intervals along the walls.
    The front door opened, but the lights stayed off. Her heart hammered, then settled when she recognized Rand’s wide-shouldered silhouette walking across the shared living area. She waited for him to knock on her suite door. Instead he bent and started to slide an envelope under the door.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    He straightened and spun toward her so quickly that she flinched. She didn’t feel any better when moonlight flashed off the gun in his hand. Before she could blink, he holstered the gun at the small of