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I pull my t-shirt back over my head, turning and bending a little to make sure the microphone stays put.
“How does it feel?” she asks me.
“Weird.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Schultz assures me.
I see a dozen other officers suiting up in bulletproof vests and tactical gear. They’re planning to make a raid on Levi’s lab.
But only if I can create probable cause for them to enter. If I fuck this up, Schultz says I’ll be high and dry. All on my own in Levi’s basement.
And that’s not the worst part—the worst part would be Nero and Sebastian, stuck at the bank with no getaway driver.
That can’t happen. I can’t let them down.
As I’m about to leave the room, Schultz grabs my arm, pulling me back inside. It’s just me and him—the other officers are getting ready.
“Where’s your boyfriend tonight?” he asks me.
“He’s out of town,” I say, blandly.
“Does he know you’re ratting out Levi Cargill tonight?”
“He doesn’t give a fuck about Levi,” I say.
Schultz has his fingers wrapped around my wrist, holding me close so I can’t take a step back from him. He’s finally wearing his uniform again, like the first night I met him. The deep navy blue makes him look stern and formal. But his eyes are burning brighter than ever beneath the brim of his cap.
“I’ve seen you two together,” he hisses. “I followed you out to the bluffs. Saw you in the backseat of his car . . .”
My skin crawls, knowing what night he’s talking about. Nero fucked me in the backseat of the Mustang until the windows were running with steam, and both of us were drenched in sweat.
Schultz was watching us the whole time?
That fucking creep.
“That’s an interesting use of police time,” I mutter.
“I wasn’t on duty that night,” Schultz says.
I try to pull my wrist out of his grip, but he holds on tight, not letting me move an inch.
“I thought you were smarter than that,” Schultz says. “A girl like you . . . with a body like that . . . you could have picked a better class of man. You still could.”
“Are you talking about yourself?” I ask him.
“Why not?”
I look up into his face, furious and disdainful.
“Because say what you want about Nero . . . he never forced me to do a damn thing I didn’t want to do.”
I twist my wrist, wrenching it out of Schultz’s grip.
“For a bad guy, he’s a pretty good guy,” I tell him.
Then I push past Schultz, leaving him alone in the interrogation room.
It’s almost ten o’clock. I’ve got to get over to the lab.
