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dressed, right down to her worn sneakers. Her newly blond hair was damp. Evidently, she’d been up a while. Or maybe she’d never gone to sleep.
Tabitha’s gaze darted past Bailey, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Colt had that effect on people.
Bailey cleared her throat. “Tabby, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY
THE SIZE, SHE’D expected.
John Colt was tall and bulky, and clearly spent a lot of time in a weight room. But the swagger was missing. So was the confident, know-it-all tone that had grated on Tabitha’s nerves throughout the trial.
Of course, he’d only been here five minutes. He could turn out to be an arrogant prick.
Bailey shot another look at the door, and Tabitha could tell she was antsy to leave. Maybe she wanted to get back to her cop.
“So, unless you need me for anything . . . ?” Bailey looked at Colt.
“We don’t.”
She looked at Tabitha. “Text me before you leave. Use his phone.”
“I will.”
Bailey surprised her then by stepping over and giving her a hug. Tabitha froze. She hadn’t been hugged in ages, and it felt oddly comforting. Then Bailey’s arms loosened and she gave her a smile. Tears flooded Tabitha’s eyes as she watched Bailey slip out the door.
And then she felt ridiculous. Why was she getting weepy over a hug from a woman she barely knew?
John Colt was watching her silently from across the room. He leaned against the ugly dresser, palms resting beside him, the heel of his boot propped against the bottom drawer. The stance appeared casual but wasn’t. Tabitha had become an expert at body language over the past two years.
“You have a gun on you?”
Surprise flickered across his face. He nodded.
“Put it on the nightstand. Then sit in the chair by the window.”
He looked amused, but he did as she asked, slowly sinking into a crouch and hiking up the cuff of his jeans. He pulled a black pistol from an ankle holster and stepped over to place it on the nightstand. Then he pulled out the chair and sat.
Facing the door, she noticed. He didn’t like his back to the door any more than he liked being unarmed, even for a short period of time. Two points in his favor.
He rested his ankle on his knee and leaned back. Again, it was a posture designed to look casual. He was trying to put her at ease. It wasn’t going to work, but she appreciated the effort.
“You want coffee?” she asked. “I made some.”
“No, thanks.”
She picked up her paper coffee cup and took it to the side of the bed near the nightstand and sat down. She didn’t know how to use his gun or if it was even loaded, and he could probably get it out of her hands in a heartbeat if he wanted to, but it was the principle of the thing.
She smiled nervously. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” Or any night since she’d listened to Robin’s message. “I feel like a walking zombie.” She took a sip. The coffee was weak and lukewarm, and just the taste made her stomach twist, but she forced herself to swallow.
“How much did Bailey tell you?” she asked.
“Some. Not a lot. You can tell me more.”
“Is that really necessary?”
He nodded.
She took a deep breath and blew out a sigh. “Okay.”
“I need to know everything from your childhood on. Names, dates, schools, cities, all of it.”
“Why?”
“So we don’t make stupid mistakes.”
“Such as . . . what? I’ve been very careful.”
“Not saying you haven’t.”
She sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Her whole life had become one long defensive maneuver.
“How’s this going to work, exactly?” she asked.
“How do you mean?”
“To start with, who’s paying you?”
“Someone you don’t know.”
She drew back. She’d thought maybe Bailey was paying him since she’d arranged this meeting. The thought of someone she didn’t know paying him put her instantly on guard.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Someone who works for the tech company that outed you and Robin. He wants to make things right.”
“He’s too late,” she said bitterly.
“He wants to try.” Colt looked at her for a long moment. “If you’re worried about confidentiality, don’t be. I’m like a black box.”
Tabitha studied his expression, trying to figure him out. She didn’t know if she should trust him. Would someone she’d never met really pay to help her simply because he felt guilty over what his company had done? And would helping her now, after Robin had already lost her life, really clear his