Page 38 of Wicked Sin

Who the fuck knows.

As she says, all of this is definitely beyond my pay grade. But I don’t care. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

We pull into the underground garage and exit the car, the FBI agents flanking Taylor as she stalks ahead of me. Her purse is slung over her shoulder, but her suitcase has been abandoned in the car behind us.

That’s not ideal.

Suddenly she stops and turns. “Can someone please bring my bag?” She looks somewhere above the head of Ferdinand, not giving him any space to say no. “I need to freshen up.”

In the next moment, Ram Singh appears at the stairwell, holding the door open, and Ms. Reid keeps going as if she knows this station like the back of her hand.

One of the federal agents goes back and collects her suitcase, and I breathe a little easier.

I’m impressed with Taylor right now. She’s on the brink of being taken into what will amount to protective custody, and she’s pushing hard against it. Being raised in chaos and privilege may have some advantages in times of crisis with law enforcement—a fact I can appreciate when I am not the law enforcement in question.

Captain Woods is waiting upstairs.

“Captain,” Taylor says. “If we could speak a moment about calling my attorney…”

The captain pauses a split second, then she nods. “Right. Come with me. Gentlemen, the conference room is yours. I’ll take that suitcase, thank you. Detective Vasquez, I’ll leave it to you to give them a complete briefing.”

The directive is clear. Whatever Taylor and I are playing at, I can’t let it get in the way of the investigation.

A fine line to walk.

This would almost be more fun than going dancing if it didn’t feel painfully out of control.

14

Taylor

As soon asLuke and the FBI agents disappear, I sag. Just a little.

Captain Woods gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s going to okay.”

“Is it? Apparently, someone wants me dead.”

“We’re not going to let that happen.” She leads me into her office. “You should know that Detective Vasquez was protesting the FBI’s involvement all the way across the continent.”

“Oh.” That explains his insistence that we come here and not wherever they planned to take me.

“He didn’t give you a plan to demand a lawyer?”

“Uh, no. That was all me. Ad-libbing.”

“Doyou want to call your attorney?”

“No.” I sag even further. I’m tired. “I want to get some sleep that isn’t squeezed into an economy seat on a plane that smells like feet.”

The captain laughs gently. “Our hospitality is not up to your usual standards?”

“No offense, Captain, but I don’t think Detective Vasquez could even imagine my standards.”

She doesn’t reply to that. “Would you like a drink?”

“Do you have sparkling water?”

“I have Coke and Diet Coke.”

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