29 KentFor the past twenty minutes, Kent had been sitting in the hotel’s atrium lobby, his face hidden behind a Seattle newspaper.
The immaculately groomed brunette at the front desk was eyeing him again. Probably convinced he was a private d**k trying to get the goods on his client’s adulterous spouse. Any minute, she’d pick up the house phone and summon hotel security to throw him out.
His gaze slid to his wristwatch. Five-fifteen. Past time for Trish to make her appearance.
She was the reason he’d grabbed this seat with a prime view of the elevator bank.
He’d flown to Sea-Tac on a hunch. He’d had only gossip behind it.
Until he drove his rental into the hotel parking lot and spotted Trish’s red Mazda Miata.
He mentally changed “gossip” to hard fact and “hunch” to skilled analysis.
