Page 132 of Deep Cover

Somehow, that was all the worse.

"I'm not playing about your addiction. I'm not adding the rules and disciplines to be funny or to keep you busy or even to entertain myself. I developed the new way of giving it to you because that will please me and not you."

In other circumstances, it would have been hard not to snort at that one.

"Your life is in danger. China white kills. Opiates kill. There are numbers available on any website you want to look at. There is an epidemic in this country and I won't insult you by lecturing on it because you know this. You knew what you were doing the first time you used no matter how upset you were that day. You knew the risks and you knew the addictive strengths. Right now, kneeling at my feet, you understand the danger you're in. If you didn't, you wouldn't be so desperate to get back to work and fighting it."

I was surprised enough that I lifted my head halfway up before stopping myself.

"It's all right," Cole said. "Look at me."

When I did, his triangular, mischievous smile was nowhere and his eyes were very dark blue, very grave. "I've seen your record. Does that surprise you?"

"Very little you do surprises me, sir," I said and he was the one who snorted, but only a short bray of sound.

"You're a good cop. You've got good instincts. You're good at going undercover and getting the job done. You'd probably be changing jobs within the year anyway. Seattle isn't infinite. Eventually you'd cross paths with too many people who realized you were there when something – "

"Law enforcement-y," I supplied and heard him laugh again.

"Right. When something like that, which is not a word, happened. I want you to be able to go back to it. I saw what you were looking up and while I don't understand everything your Mr. Charles was telling you, I got enough of it to understand your panic."

I blinked at the word.

"Panic," Cole repeated. "You're terrified the thing you put yourself out there to stop, the thing you lost your health to on your way to stopping, will get so out of control you can't make a difference and that somehow one of those deaths will be on you."

I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything for me to say. He had it.

"You know who's in charge of what's happening right now, don't you?"

I narrowed my eyes, started to ask, because I didn't know if he meant between him and me or in Seattle, but he clarified. In Seattle, he meant.

"I think I know who it is, yes. Because when I rode with Jesse, there were people who were always chomping at the reins. I'm not surprised they've found their way in and they're every bit as ruthless as I expected."

He sighed and stood, walking out of my line of sight. I pulled the robe closer around me and moved so my toes were tucked under the hem. The coldness was trying to seep back in.

"I'm afraid it will damage your recovery to have you back in that world," he said, standing across the room and watching me. "But I'm afraid it will also do damage to you if I simply cut you off from your Tad Charles and refuse you any hand in stopping those people."

I blinked and my spirits began to rise. Don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up.

Too late.

And then he crushed them utterly and at the same time, completely changed my world.

We sat across the breakfast table from each other. As he'd promised mine was made up of white fish and kale, two substances that in a nice world, don't exist. I had a small plastic cup of supplements, a cup of coffee, and a plate of bacon besides.

Geez, he was mellowing.

I almost laughed at that thought. My backside and boobs said differently.

"I know people," Cole said.

It seemed to come out of left field and I squinted at him. "I'm not sure I understand, sir."

He'd been looking off into a corner of the room but now he looked back at me, as serious as I'd ever seen him. "I think you do." Abruptly he moved forward fast, leaning across the table toward me. "Right now – how certain are you it's who you think it is?"

No hesitation. "Ninety-nine percent."

Nod. "And that one percent chance of error?" His lean, narrow face was inches from mine, his dark blue eyes intense.

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