Page 56 of Whistleblower

I might as well be cuffed myself, helplessly watching her walk right into the lion’s den that I already rattled. Mostly, I’m pissed, but also a little frightened. Then again, there’s a part of me that’s excited because it’s Eden…

And I know I’m about to be impressed.

TWENTY

EDEN

I fight the anxious energy flooding through my veins as the door clicks shut behind me. This interrogation room is so bright—it’s agitating. I immediately feel uneasy in here, maybe that’s intentional. From what I’ve learned in my experience, people talk faster when they’re uncomfortable.

I was so convincing in front of Callen and Linc, I almost fooled myself into thinking I’m equipped for this. But I couldn’t just stand by. I know Linc was doing what he was ordered to, but when do we draw the line between what we’re told is right…and what’s actually right?

The man looks smaller in person than he did through the glass. His clothes are tattered and raggedy, his dark hair is greasy, and he smells like he’s due for a shower. But underneath the swelling in his cheek and the drying blood around his lip, this is just a normal young man. His dark, thick eyelashes give him more of a baby face, and where Callen and Linc see a criminal…I see a prisoner.

I’m so caught up on how I should break the silence that I’m taken aback when he speaks first.

“Please tell me you’re ‘Bad Cop,’” he sasses, “and that we’re about to get naughty.” He forces a laugh, but I recognize the false boldness—it’s called fear, and I’m all too familiar.

“I’m not a cop,” I say simply. “I’m the one who told the cops they can’t touch you anymore. I will make a very big scene if anyone in this compound lays another hand on you.”

“Is your scene supposed to save me?”

“I can be persuasive.” Especially when the big, bad wolf of PALADIN is sweet on me. “Do you want some Doritos?”

I begin to unpack my plastic bag remembering my mantra: free food builds trust. I never thought I’d apply it to an interrogation situation, but I’m trying to see this as a conversation more than anything else. Offering nourishment and a little civility seems like a good way to get him talking.

“What?” he asks, taken off guard by my question.

“Dor-ree-tos,” I sound out for him. I scrunch my face, mockingly. “Chips, man. I’ve got Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch. I also have Goldfish, but they aren’t flavor blasted so they’re a waste of cracker space if you ask me.”

He wriggles his wrists against his handcuffs. “I can’t exactly eat at the moment.”

I twist the cap off of a water bottle and soak a couple of clean white napkins before I cross the room. I glance over my shoulder to see the silent flashing red light blinking. There’s Linc, warning me not to get too close. I continue my mission, ignoring his probably justified concern.

The man flinches when I reach out with the napkin. “Your lip is so swollen. It’s just water. You saw me pour it.” He stills and lets me press the wet napkin against his broken lip. “Humor me,” I say as I lightly pat against his mouth. “It feels a bit better, right?”

He nods, albeit reluctantly.

I head back over to the only table in the room to grab the bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, remembering that Cool Ranch dust always stings a bit when I have a cut in my mouth. Opening the bag, I return and kneel in front of him. “Say, ‘ah.’” I open my mouth like I’m demonstrating for a toddler.

“You’re going to feed me?” I think he means to sound sarcastic but all that comes out is desperation.

“What’s your name?”

“Lady, you can play nightingale all you want, I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

“Give me a fake one if you must, I just need to call you something.”

“Hector,” he offers lazily.

“Okay, Hector. I’m—”

I stop myself, remembering Callen’s command. If I don’t play by his rules, he’ll probably yank me out of here and Linc will go right back to assaulting the man in front of me.

“Bambi. My name’s Bambi.”

“Bambi?” he asks before rolling his eyes.

“Well, come on, is Hector your real name?”

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