The words are ringing inside my head. This woman, the woman standing so casually in front of me, is the agent who shot Alexis? Again, she gives me a knowing look, as though I’m sneaking off every five minutes to change my sister’s dressings. She fucking shot Alexis, and she’s looking at me like I’m a felon for attending to my own sister’s life-threatening injuries.
If she knew anything at all, she would know that’s not the case. In my head, I’m reaching for this woman’s gun and smashing it over her head with as much force as I can manage; she can’t tell me something like that and then expect me not to have a major problem with it.
“Why the hell would you need to attack my sister? Lexi was kidnapped and taken against her will. As far as I’m aware, that’s not a criminal offense that requires shooting on sight.”
A warped smile twists across Agent Lowell’s face. “Kidnapping doesn’t, no. But your sister is no saint. She’s up to her neck in hot water, and the temperature is only gonna rise from here on in. Maybe you should tell her that when you speak with her next.”
I’m growing tired of telling her I’m not seeing or speaking to my sister, and I’m growing tired of playing games. I get to my feet, straightening up the chair I was sitting in. “Are you going to ask me about Nannette Richards, Agent Lowell, or are you going to harass me for information that I do not have?”
“We don’t need to ask you anything about Nannette Richards,” Agent Lowell says, giving me a cold smile. “We already know everything we need to know about her. She is a victim; an innocent who was killed to make a point. Zeth’s ex-employer is a violent man, with an interesting way of making a point. You fuck with him, and you can bet your ass he’s gonna fuck with you right back. You should get used to having other people’s blood on your hands. Charlie Holsan will keep piling the bodies up on St. Peter’s doorstep so long as you’re connected with Zeth Mayfair. And from this conversation, Dr. Romera, I can see you’re not going to give up that connection easily.”
I fold my arms across my chest, giving her a dark look. She’s telling me I’m responsible for Nannette’s death, and I will basically be responsible for many more if I don’t tell her everything I know. I know that to some degree she’s right; I do have Nannette’s blood on my hands, figuratively as well as literally, but I will not succumb to bullying tactics just so this viper can get what she wants. I want Charlie Holsan put away for life, but something tells me Charlie isn’t this woman’s primary focus right now. Cooperating with her won’t get me anywhere. “I have patients to attend to, Agent,” I say. “Are we done here?”
Agent Lowell’s grin has a rather wolfish quality to it when she flashes her teeth at me. “Oh, no, I’m afraid not. I’ve re-evaluated the situation. Seems to me, we should take you down to the station after all. You may not wish to assist us in our investigation, Dr. Romera, but I’m thinking perhaps a forty-eight-hour stint in a public jail might persuade you otherwise. So please”—she smiles sweetly, gesturing to the chair—“why don’t you take a seat?”
The rain’s grown pretty heavy while we’ve been waiting for Michael and Cade. The fuckers take forever to show, and when they do make an appearance they’re soaked to the skin and dressed head to toe in black. They basically turn up looking like fucking criminals.
I give Michael a firm thump on the arm as soon as he’s within reach. “What the hell is wrong with you? Didn’t I say we don’t wanna draw any unwanted attention?”
“You told me to make sure Cade didn’t wear his cut,” Michael says, rubbing at his arm with an aloof but wounded look of pride. “And is he wearing his cut? No. He is not.”
Cade points to his back to demonstrate that Michael’s right. “This is all we had, man. Now come on, I thought you wanted to break into this place?”
“I did. But now that my sidekicks are a motherfucking huge ex-con covered in prison tats and a black guy in a fucking hoody, I’m not so sure. Doesn’t exactly scream respectable.”
Michael thumps me in the arm now. “Fuck you, Zee. And anyway, a black guy wearing an Armani suit hands down will always draw more attention.”
“And what about me? Am I not a sidekick?” Lacey’s hands are on her hips, her hair plastered to her scalp and hanging into her face in wet ringlets. She looks like a half-drowned cat.
“Fuck! Yes, you’re a fucking sidekick. For the love of god!” I’m beginning to think it would be better to do this alone, but there’s no way to shake Lace now. And Michael’s hardly one to heed my commands if he thinks he’s going to be needed. “Alright, fine, let’s do this,” I growl. It’s not ideal, but then whatever is?
Cade holds out his knuckles for me to fist-bump. “Strange turn of events, huh, bro? Both sent down for something that had nothing to do with us, and now, when we’re on the outside, is when we’re doing the illegal shit. Are we gonna kill this English fucker or what?”