Austin’s face betrayed nothing. “I only drink bottled water.”
Connor could almost hear Bowen’s massive eye roll. “Look, you can’t blame us for being cautious. I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ve gotten this far by not giving blind trust.” He ignored Bowen’s sniff of agreement beside him. “If we don’t know one another’s weaknesses, there isn’t a hope in hell of trusting one another’s strengths.”
“Seconded.” Bowen shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “How would you feel if it was your wife out there?”
“Don’t ever say that out loud again,” Derek ground out.
Austin gained his feet. “This is going rather well, wouldn’t you say?” He stopped at the door. “Have fun deciding whose dick is biggest. Hint, the winner is about to leave the room.”
When the door snapped shut behind Austin, Bowen pushed off the wall. “Man, I hate that guy.”
Derek held up his hands, appearing to collect his thoughts. “Bowen, Sera is a trained officer. Treat her like one.” He turned to Connor. “As far as weaknesses go, you already know Erin’s. Otherwise you wouldn’t have ripped the plywood off that window yesterday.”
“She mentioned a stepfather. I need his name.”
The captain actually looked impressed. “She told you that already? Took me months to figure out which card to play to get her here.”
“I don’t understand.” He took a step toward the desk. “And I need to. Now.”
“In front of Bowen?”
Connor considered the former underground Brooklyn criminal whose relationship with him had started off as ambiguous, but had developed into a mutual respect. Bowen bunched his shoulders and glanced away uncomfortably, but Connor could see his answer would matter. A lot. “Yeah, in front of Bowen. If there’s anyone here I trust, it’s him.”
Derek looked between them and nodded. “Most of you are here to avoid prison time. Erin is here to avoid being locked up as well. But not behind bars.” He lowered his voice. “In a mental institution.”
Bowen blew out a slow breath. “You two sure know how to pick ’em.”
Connor gave him the middle finger. “Who’s trying to put her there? Her stepfather?”
“She’ll have to tell you the rest.” Derek sat down at his desk, effectively dismissing them. “I’m done gossiping for the day. Get out there and do your jobs.”
Connor checked his watch again and saw that only a minute had passed since the last time. He scanned South California Avenue looking for blond hair and combat boots. Listened for the sound of tinkling bells. Anything that might signal Erin had decided to show up for their prison visit. On his drive over, he’d still been reeling from the information Derek had provided. No, “reeling” wasn’t the right word. He was livid. A lot of that stemmed from helpless fear. Even now, she could be in trouble and he was standing here unable to help her. Unacceptable.
Even if she showed, what could he say? It had gone unspoken between him and Derek that Erin’s situation was told in confidence. If he came right out demanding to know why someone, most likely her stepfather, wanted to lock her away, she might split. She wanted her freedom; it was important to her and he imagined that extended to the right to privacy. To tell him things about herself when she was good and ready. Too bad he didn’t share that sentiment. Whatever he had to do to keep her safe would be done, come hell or high water.
Dammit, where the hell was she?
“Hey.”
Connor turned just in time to see Erin step out from behind a parked car. He tried not to let his relief show, but on the inside, he felt like a parched desert experiencing its first rainstorm. Jesus, she looked sexy in those skintight jeans and black crop top. She’d traded her combat boots for some red high-top Converse that matched her dark lipstick. He wanted to drag her back behind that parked car and wipe it off with one hand and finger her with the other. Watching her battle outrage and arousal from a front-row seat might make up for the morning he’d spent going out of his mind.
She sauntered toward him, hands clasped behind her back. “Looking for someone?”
“Maybe,” he answered. The closer she got, the less he cared about holding back, giving her space. The closer she got, the harder his pulse pounded. “Where did those clothes come from? More importantly, where did you change into them?”
“The mall.” She rubbed a palm down her denim-encased thigh. “I keep a locker there, too. In case I can’t go home to get what I need before I—”
“Run?”
“Yeah.” She raised a hand as if to lay it on his chest, but hesitated. “Does it make you feel better that this is the first time I don’t really want to?”
“No.”