I don’t understand the joke and swallow over the lump in my throat. Nothing is funny at the moment. “What do you want?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about The Pink,” he repeats.
“I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never even been there.” I’m spitting lies out left and right. It’s so unlike me, but desperation makes people do crazy things. I’m not sure when I became a liar, but I think it was sometime between eating ramen noodles on the regular and my life spinning out of control.
His full lips pull into a lazy smirk. “Given the fact you were there last night, I have to disagree with that.”
Shoot.
Not only am I a horrible liar, but I’m lying to the DEA. That’s got to be breaking some type of law.
Afederallaw, which has to be worse than speeding or parking in front of a fire hydrant, which is horrible since it puts people’s lives in danger.
I bite my lip, but don’t confirm where I was last night. If I keep my mouth shut, he can’t catch me in another lie.
“We’d like you to come down to the office to discuss what you know about Dex Carter and The Pink.”
My empty stomach churns, and not because I haven’t bothered to put anything in it today. “Do I have to?”
The agent tips his head. “No, you don’t have to.”
I exhale. “Good. Then I don’t want to.”
“But,” he amends and flips off his shades. His expression is serious. So serious, his dark eyes might as well be flesh-burning laser beams zinging me through the cracked door. “We could arrest you, bring you in, and then question you. But there’s no reason for anyone to go through all that if you’re willing to cooperate.”
“Arrest me?” I croak.
He shrugs. “We don’t want it to come to that. That would mean getting a warrant, processing you in the system … it’s a lot for all of us. I doubt you want that, either, when we could have a simple conversation and move on.”
“Move on,” I echo, and glance back at the mess I’m trying to fit in my small car. “Yes, I’d like to move on.”
“Great.”
“Um, when? I’m sort of busy. I’m moving,” I explain.
His brows shoot up in unison. “Where are you moving to?”
Finally questions I can answer truthfully. “Virginia. It’s home.”
“Interesting.” He glances back to the ghost of a partner I can’t see before turning back. “Then we need to get this done. The sooner the better.”
“I … um…”
“We’ll be efficient with your time. You’ll be back to packing before you know it.”
“Okay. Let me get my purse.” I slam the door and hurry back to my bedroom.
This is the last straw. I have no one to protect but myself. I’ll tell them what they want to know and get the heck out of there. The sooner Miami is in my rearview mirror, the better.
I slip on a pair of flip flops and grab my purse. After I pause to pull in a calming breath, I open the door all the way.
Agent Cruz is still standing there, and this time I see the owner of the second voice. He’s taller, wider, and tattoos decorate boththick arms, disappearing into his short-sleeve T-shirt. His hair is dark blond and shaggy. He looks like he could take down mountains if he so desired.
I decide if they want my time, it’ll be on my terms. “This needs to be fast. I’m leaving today and need to make it to Georgia before I stop for the night.”
“I’m afraid you might need to be flexible, ma’am,” Agent Emmett says. “We have a lot to talk about. Let’s go.”
Why does my life suck so bad?