Cole shrugged. “It was Shajuanna and the dogs. She’s not pretending to like dogs. There’s real affection there.”
Scott was nodding when she finished telling him her impressions. “I saw it, too.”
“Then why didn’t you say something? Back me up?”
He tried to take her elbow but she lifted her arm out of his palm. Undeterred, he angled his body so that his shoulder touched the wall, forming a shield between them and the rest of the hallway. He lowered his voice, as if they were sharing a personal private moment, but his expression was dead serious.
“I know you’re angry as hell at me. But we’ve agreed to give this a go. That means we have to trust each other to have the other one’s back on the job. I’m trying to do that, if you’ll let me.”
“You didn’t back me just now.”
“That’s right. You have to be seen as holding your own weight and taking the heat when it comes, too. This is the big leagues. You can’t be viewed as needing a protector or you lose your credibility.”
“Okay. I see that.” Cole held his gaze. “Does everyone on the task force know our history?”
“Hell no.” Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Only Lattimore. And it will stay that way.”
Relief tumbled through her. “I wondered, the way that FBI guy Hadley is acting.”
“Hadley’s a douche. Smart, good at his job, but a douche.”
“What did he mean about you being the ‘bracelet’?”
To her amazement, Scott’s face reddened. “It’s a term for the undercover agent who is acting strictly as cover for the main undercover operator. Like a girlfriend.”
Obviously, not a term of respect. “So in this operation you’re my stud muffin arm candy?”
Scott scowled.
Suddenly, Cole felt better than she had all day. “Better go see the boss.”
Scott leaned in closer, making her aware of his superior height. “Here’s the thing. Lattimore’s position requires that he do some political grandstanding. Task forces are funded by public money. There’s never enough of that to go around. So, there’s no room for any weakness in our plan. If you convince him we have the wrong target, he’ll pull this operation.”
“You’re telling me to lie.”
“I’m telling you to ask yourself if you’re a hundred percent certain you’re right. Or if you’d like a chance to test your theory against the weight of developing evidence.”
Cole nodded. “That’s smart. Someone’s using puppies to move drugs. One way or the other, this is our best lead. At best, we get the right people. At worst, we could develop other leads while discounting our hypothesis.”
Scott’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘hypothesis’ with Lattimore. He’s not always dealing with heavy artillery when it comes to seeking congressional allocations of money. He needs small-word explanations to pass on.”
“There is something else.” Cole flipped open her tablet and pointed to the graph she punched up on her screen. “Eye-C’s lost money on his recordings, but I did a little surfing at lunchtime. He’s making good money on residuals and his protégée, PaTreeZ. She’s gone platinum this week. He may be a criminal but he knows how to make money without dealing.”
Scott grinned at her. “You may make detective one day. But don’t lay all your cards on the table, not even with Lattimore. Hunches are just that until you have hard evidence. Now go get ’em.”
He turned and walked away.
Cole had to stop herself from calling him back. To say thank you. To express gratitude to the man who still made her body hum just by entering a room.
She shook her head. She had some serious mental issues she needed to deal with. Serious. Because she was grateful for his little pep talk. And she was excited about the next few weeks.
She squared her shoulders and went to find Lattimore.
*
“The Pagans made you?” Dave Wilson stared at Scott across the tiny table space in a D.C. corner deli/grocer. “You didn’t think that was something you should have reported before now?”
Scott shrugged. “A cop gets made on the street on any given day. No big deal.”
His former undercover handler shook his head. “An ex-undercover agent gets made two years after a nasty bust, that’s news. You got a name?”
“Calls himself Dos Equis. X for short. We rode together for several months.”
Dave made a note in his cell phone. “I remember him. Biker from out West. Always thought it suspect he should choose Pagan affiliation. Anything else?”
“Nothing I can’t manage, now I know to keep an eye open.”