Suspect Witness Read online

  An undercover operation is the only way to bring an innocent witness home…

  After months searching for a schoolteacher on the run from a criminal gang, CIA operative Josh Sedovich finally finds the innocent beauty in the remotest part of Malaysia. Eager to get Erin Argon home and into protective custody, Josh goes undercover to gain her trust and prove he isn’t a threat. And although Erin claims to have witnessed the murder of a very dangerous man, Josh knows there’s more to the story than she’s letting on. But getting to know Erin—in public and behind closed doors—makes Josh realize just how determined she is to keep the truth hidden. Seems he isn’t the only one keeping secrets that could get them both killed…

  He looked down and her eyes met his.

  “There’s no time to hesitate.”

  She pulled her hand free.

  “Who are you?”

  “No time. I’m here to get you out.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “Look,” he gritted out. “There’s no time to offer proof. You have two choices. Trust me or…” He nodded his head backward, where it was obvious only death waited.

  She stood there almost rocking on her heels. He could see the indecision, the unwillingness to trust any further, and he didn’t blame her.

  “I’m saying this only once more before I throw you over my shoulder. We can do it your way or we can do it mine.”

  SUSPECT

  WITNESS

  Ryshia Kennie

  Ryshia Kennie has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and also been a semifinalist in the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit ryshiakennie.com.

  Books by Ryshia Kennie

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Suspect Witness

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Josh Sedovich—A CIA field agent, his latest assignment is to locate a woman who fled the scene of a murder. But things get complicated when he not only locates her, but he finds himself falling for the woman he’s sworn to protect.

  Erin Kelley Argon—A suspected witness to murder, this primary school teacher is now being targeted by the Anarchists, a dangerous gang. To protect everything she holds dear, she changes her identity, flees her home and runs halfway across the globe.

  Mike Olesk—A retired San Diego city police officer and an old family friend. He’s determined to help Erin, but his skills are rusty and his advice may have steered her wrong.

  Antonio Enrique—The murdered Spanish billionaire may have funded some of the Anarchists’ illicit activities. But none of that is proven before he’s killed, with Erin as a witness.

  Steven Decker—He dated Erin until she discovered who he really was. As a member of the Anarchists biker gang, he thinks he knows Erin’s secret, for he was there on the day that Antonio Enrique was murdered.

  Sarah Argon—Pregnant, single and with no career aspirations, Erin’s younger sister has always depended on Erin to protect her.

  Wade Gair—A pilot with a late start in a CIA career. He’s flown Josh out of numerous trouble spots. Struggling under the financial burden of alimony, he dreams about financial freedom.

  Derrick Reese—The head of the outlaw biker gang the Anarchists. He’ll do anything to stop the witness and keep both his gang’s deadly secret and himself from facing justice.

  Tenuk Laksana—A Malaysian Special Forces agent, he’s been assigned to assist in securing the Gulung Mulu Park area. Despite his diminutive size, he’ll hold up his end as long as Josh needs him and he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.

  Vern Ferguson—The director of Josh’s branch of the CIA. It is through him that Josh is able to make what contact he can with the home office.

  For Ken—who led the journey through Malaysia’s Gunung Mulu

  caves with the feeble light of a travel flashlight.

  Our hiking boots were ankle-deep in bat guano and each step

  was treacherous. I clutched the back of his shirt

  as I couldn’t always see in the fleeting light.

  But the vast beauty of the cave was worth a ton of bat guano.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Excerpt from Colorado Wildfire by Cassie Miles

  Chapter One

  Singapore—Saturday, October 10

  She had been pretty once.

  Now her skin gleamed in the glow of the fluorescent lights. A strand of auburn hair fell across a well-shaped brow and her lips held a glimmering trace of sherbet lip gloss.

  “It’s a shame, really,” the coroner said as his sun-bronzed hand held the edge of the stark white sheet. “Life was just getting started. Twenty-five or there about.” He shook his head. “I try to remember that every time I step out of the house. Enjoy the moment. You just never know. And in this job you’re reminded of mortality every day.” A strand of salt-and-pepper hair drifted across his forehead. “I try not to think about it or it would drive me crazy.”

  “True,” Josh Sedovich said. “Any idea how she died?”

  The coroner nodded. “She was hit by a blunt object to the back of the head. Surprising, I always thought Singapore so civilized until I moved here and took this job. Unfortunately, it’s turned out no better than anywhere else.”

  “Why does it always end like this? On a temporary visa to see the world and, just like that, it’s over.” Josh ran his hand along the side of his neck. “It’s damn hot in here.”

  “No air-conditioning,” the coroner said. “Is she who you’re looking for?”

  “No. Fortunately not.” He fisted his right hand. Not so fortunately for the unknown young woman on the coroner’s slab.

  Probable murder, potential arson and an unknown assassin. He’d been on the trail of this case for the past three weeks, and now one person was dead and still, miraculously, the witness lived. Not only lived but thrived over days that had turned into weeks and weeks into months. It wouldn’t have happened had the FBI called him in sooner.

  “Interesting that Victor has given you a hall pass. Maybe the fact that she’s American, too. But more than likely not.” The coroner looked at Josh with mild interest. “Private investigator...” He frowned. “I thought you would have to be a little more than that. CIA maybe. Or maybe I just watch too much television.”

  Josh slipped his hand into his pocket and looked away before meeting the coroner’s gaze. “American? How do you know that?”

  “Assumption on my part, but look at this.” He pulled down the sheet, exp
osing the cadaver’s torso, and pointed at her belly button. A steel stud pierced her navel; the steel was offset only by the red, white and blue of the American flag.

  “Maybe,” Josh said doubtfully. “But she might be a wannabe, too.”

  “Yeah, I know. Or her boyfriend was or, or... Still comes down to an unidentified body.”

  He straightened, turning to face Josh. “’Course, tattoos, earrings...” He trailed off, looking pointedly at the metal ace of spades in Josh’s left ear. “Are rather a dime a dozen.” He shook his head. “Don’t understand it much. Must be the generation gap.” An overhead fan kicked on. “What’s this girl done? Any ideas on why someone murdered her?”

  “Nothing that I know of.” Josh flexed his fingers as he looked at the sad, lifeless figure. He reached over and took the corner of the sheet and pulled it up over her breasts. “Wrong place. Wrong time.”

  “Seems a little more than wrong place and time. Someone torched her apartment, but not before killing her.” The coroner coughed into his gloved hand. “Heard that the original lease is in a different name, sublet. Can’t get hold of the girl who signed the lease to tell us who she sublet to. Traveling Europe or some such idiocy.”

  “Just a minute.” Josh held up his forefinger before turning his back and taking a few steps away. He pulled out the cell phone he’d bought at a local convenience store and hit Redial. “Yeah, Victor. I’ll be there in a half hour, maybe less.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  “Well, I suppose we’ll know who she is soon enough.” The coroner slid the drawer containing the body back into place and out of sight.

  Twenty minutes later, Josh stepped over the charred threshold of the ruined apartment building. Outside, the cinder brick exterior was still intact but inside was a gutted mess. Water dripped from the ceiling and the acrid smell of burned plastic mixed with wood smoke and other synthetics.

  He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed.

  “Josh Sedovich.” Victor Chong held out his hand. It was a quick shake, more a formality than one with any feeling.

  “Chong.” He shook the man’s hand for the second time that day. “Still can’t convince you that a private investigator might get you more information than this team of officials you’re set on?”

  “No more than you could this morning.”

  “Definitely a case of arson,” Victor confirmed with a shake of his head. His safety helmet was tucked under his arm and there were smudges of soot across his cheek. His dark hair was matted to his head and it was obvious that he had spent a great deal of time inside the smoking and charred remains. “Have you seen the body?”

  “I did.”

  “And?” Victor arched a brow. “Was she the girl you’re looking for? Your lost person?”

  “No idea who she might be, but she isn’t who I’m looking for.” He glanced beyond Victor into the small studio apartment where she’d lived.

  “Can’t imagine hunting missing persons day in and day out. No variety.”

  “It’s a job like any other,” he said shortly.

  “Now if that wasn’t a false statement,” Victor replied. “People go missing for all sorts of reasons, and I’ll bet you’ve seen them all. So, best-case scenario that she’s not in the morgue yet. I mean the one you’re looking for. Obviously, the other... Well, we both know where she is.”

  “Best-case scenario, it wasn’t her,” Josh agreed, turning to look at the damage the fire had done. “Too bad about the identification bit. You would have made my job easier.”

  Victor shrugged. “Although identification isn’t my problem, I still wouldn’t mind having one up on Detective Tay. He’s a prideful bugger, always rubbing my nose in it.”

  Josh stepped around Victor, his gaze taking in the cheaply papered walls, the hint of a vine pattern only partially concealed by soot and smoke. The tiny apartment was pretty much ruined. The water had destroyed what the fire hadn’t.

  “Interesting that the body wasn’t burned at all. Now it’s just a matter of getting the right people to view her. And then we’ll get that damn ID.”

  Josh breathed lightly as he stepped into the room. Victor carried on his one-way conversation as he followed. The smell of smoke was more intense here as it saturated the air and bit harshly into his sinuses. His stomach rolled. He looked with envy at the mask Victor donned as he stepped over a pool of water and sodden books that were scattered around a fallen bookcase.

  The dull red spine of a hard cover copy of Wuthering Heights lay across the top of a box of paperbacks whose bright and torrid covers curled and swelled. The classic was like an old dog in the midst of a pack of pups. He skirted a small, nondescript, collapsed wooden table—more cardboard than wood, the kind purchased in discount box stores—and walked over to a small desk that stood untouched except for the damp soot that clung to it. The desk was different from the other furniture in the room. It looked older and had character. The patina was richer and darker, the legs had deep scrolls carved into them that swirled through the wood. He slipped on a glove and opened a side drawer. There was nothing but a collection of elastic bands, tape, pens and blank notepads. The heat had not gotten to this part of the room. He did a quick take of the other side drawer. This time it opened to a small line of files. His fingers flitted quickly through them, stopped and went back. From the corner of his eye he saw Victor watching. He wasn’t sure how long Victor would allow his surreptitious view of the apartment before demanding that the fire investigative team and police take over. It was a lull in the investigation. The fire had only been out a few hours, and Josh was taking full advantage as he had done in other crime scenes in other countries throughout the world. It was all about speed and timing. He left the files and moved to the middle drawer.

  He took out a blue leather folder and pushed the metal release. The folder opened; nothing was inside. He glanced over his shoulder. Victor was not looking. His attention went to the bottom side drawer, and his fingers skimmed quickly through the files.

  He flipped through papers in a cardboard file. Empty—except one small sheet and a receipt. Both bore the name Erin and one Erin Kelley.

  Tell Mike I took his last advice.

  The note was written in a careful script, the letters fine, unlike a more masculine scroll that only confirmed what the signature said. The writer was Erin Kelley, or at least the woman currently calling herself that. The woman who had so recently been Erin Kelley Argon before she’d changed her passport and her last name. A twist of fate twenty-nine years ago had her parents on a business trip in Canada where her mother went into early labor. As a result, Erin qualified for citizenship in that country and when she’d run, she’d taken advantage of it. He took both pieces of evidence, folded them one-handed and slipped them into his pocket. He closed the drawer and opened the middle drawer and retraced the fine line he’d felt earlier. He pushed and something gave. He pulled open the drawer farther to reveal a hidden compartment.

  “What do you have?” Victor was beside him. “The authorities only did a cursory look before they took the body away. And I just got here. So anything you can do to make our job easier.” He pulled the thin edge of his moustache with a troubled look. “Although, really, I shouldn’t be letting you do this.”

  Josh ignored the man as he took out an American driver’s license and a passport. He flipped open the passport and it only confirmed what the first piece of ID had already told him. “Here’s your identification. Emma Whyte. She had it well hidden against thieves.”

  “By jove. Good work, old chap.”

  Josh grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Since when did you become a Brit, Vic?”

  Victor scowled and glanced at his watch.

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “It’s been a long day. I’ll le
ave you to it,” Josh said. “She’s obviously not the woman I was looking for.”

  “Good luck!” Victor told him genially.

  Josh stepped over the threshold, seemingly empty-handed. Once outside, he dialed the number that would be in service for only a few more hours.

  “It’s not her,” he said. “But she was here. Whoever the bastard is that they have on her tail, he now knows her last location.”

  “What’s the matter? You sound off.”

  “Could be the last two years have been pretty much on the road.”

  “What, you’re telling me you don’t love it?”

  “Not that much. After this, Vern, I need a vacation. I need to go home.”

  “To the RV? Josh you’re not a family man and you live in a trailer.”

  His hand went into his pocket, his thumb smoothing the worn bead of a dime-store earring. “It’s home, Vern. And family or not, it’s time for me to take a break.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  He dropped the earring back into his pocket as a door slammed across the street. He walked away from the apartment building and around the corner to where an alley gave him a discreet view of the comings and goings around the apartment. “What gives with this case, Vern? There’s another body. A woman. Every bloody assignment... I’m so damned sick of seeing women dead. At least this time she wasn’t raped. Not that that is any better. Dead is dead.”

  “You’re taking it personally,” Vern Ferguson, the director of Josh’s branch in the CIA said.

  He turned away from the street and looked down the tight, concrete-bordered alley. Sometimes it was hard not to take it personally. He drew in a breath, held it a few seconds longer than necessary. “You said you have something new? What is it, Vern?” His gaze roamed the area—the overflowing garbage bin, the tiger-striped dog snuffling through the refuse. “I don’t think there’s much time. We could be talking hours, minutes... Who knows?”

  “Intelligence has her in Georgetown, Malaysia.”