Page 17 of Desperate Justice
Major denial. Allison drew in a deep breath. How the hell could she get through to her sister. “No one is stupid enough to mix legal fentanyl pills in with that candy, Di. Listen to me, for God’s sake, don’t get near that box...”
“What box?” a deep male voice asked.
She quickly hung up. Damn.
The door to the women’s room stood wide open. Rafael stood in the door frame. He strode inside, his gaze glittering with anger. Yet his grip was gentle as he took the cell from her shaking hand. He glanced at the screen and the last number dialed.
Allison suddenly became aware of the cool air brushing over her chest and bare torso and the fact she wore only a bra.
His gaze flicked downward and something else flared in his eyes. Pure male interest. But he looked away, still gripping her phone.
Rafe shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “I’d advise wearing this.”
Too tired to protest, she slipped it on, surrounded by warmth, his warmth, and the spicy scent of his cologne. Taking her upper arm, he marched her out of the restroom.
“I can’t believe this,” Allison muttered.
She’d wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear when Rafael caught her clad only in her bra, calling Diana to warn her.
No mercy. He marched her out of the women’s bathroom into his large office with windows overlooking a bay of cubicles. Fortunately it was after hours and only a few agents were working.
And he’d had the courtesy to offer her his suit jacket.
Rafe had barked out orders to those who stared. He all but threw her into the chair in front of his desk.
“Your sister did this. She’s in on it.”
“No! She’s innocent. I swear it.”
“And why the hell should I believe you? Allison, you know how lethal this crap is and you’re protecting a woman who is distributing it! I don’t care if she’s your sister, or even your damn fairy godmother. She’s dealing drugs.”
“She didn’t know what it was! She thought it was candy for the wedding favors Hector Hernandez ordered.”
Allison slumped in the chair, huddled into his suit jacket. It smelled like him, she thought vaguely. Spicy cologne, leather and a unique scent that was Rafael. Having his jacket envelop her should feel stifling and restrictive, but for some odd reason, she found it comforting.
Or maybe it’s simply the fact you don’t want to be nearly half-naked in front of the guy.
Rafe parked a hip on the corner of his desk. She didn’t care for his accusatory look, laced with speculation about what she might be doing.
She saw that same look months ago when he’d coaxed her into spying on the Devil’s Patrol.
Allison had a bad feeling about this.
“Your sister is innocent. So you say.”
“Shish kebabs on a sidecar, Rafael. Leave her alone. You have no evidence she actually left the candy there or that she knew or didn’t know it was a drug.”
“Shish kebabs on a sidecar?” His mouth quirked upward.
“My new swear phrase. I’m trying to give up profanity. As I was saying, you need probable cause. You have nothing to go on.”
“Probable cause? Been watching a lot of crime television?”
“One of my former patients was an assistant state attorney. Speaking of lawyers, I need one if you’re going to hold me here.”
His phone rang. Rafe picked up the receiver, listened, and hung up. He looked at her.
“Lab results are in. There were only trace amounts of fentanyl. The pills are mainly candy.”
