Page 55 of Whistleblower

“How much ammunition do you guys think they have?”

Callen hangs his head. “Enough to level a city.”

Callen and his team aren’t sure if it’s a bombing or a mass shooting, but all we know is there is an organization planning a massacre in a few hours and the fucker behind the glass knows who, what, when, and where. The only problem is he won’t talk. The FBI tried pleasant tactics over the past few weeks, offering him a pardon for his crimes, giving him the royal—aka humane—treatment. I think they even offered him mental health counseling. A lot of good that did them. After a couple of weeks of getting nowhere, they dumped him back in PALADIN’s lap and told us to do whatever was needed, behind closed doors, to get answers.

Stretching out my hand that’s still on the mend, I notice his blood on my knuckles. Should I even bother wiping it off? I’m supposed to get right back in there.

“If I beat him to death, he can’t talk. What do you want me to do?”

“What the hell is going on?” A small voice behind me sends a shiver up my spine.

We didn’t hear her come in—the door is supposed to be locked. Callen and I both whip around to see Eden at the entrance of the viewing room, her eyes locked on the man through the glass. Her long, dark hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, but she’s still wearing her clothes from earlier this evening. The pants I pulled off of her, not four hours ago, are a little wrinkled now.

“What are you doing here?” Callen asks, still pressing against his temples. I think he drank at least three of those stupid fruity martinis. In his defense, we didn’t expect an emergency tonight. Then again, it’s our job to always expect emergencies.

“I couldn’t find Cricket…” Eden trails off as she takes a few steps forward, making sense of the scene in front of her. As if on cue, the man grumbles in distress as he coughs, a dribble of blood coming out of his mouth. Eden snaps her head to the side and looks at me accusingly. “You did this to him?”

“Eden, this is a private interrogation,” Callen grumbles. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t see this.”

“You shouldn’t see this. You shouldn’t be doing this,” she hisses, glaring at me. I’m frozen at the moment. For some reason, I feel like I got caught cheating… I’ve never been so worried about a woman’s opinion of me in my life.

Eden turns on her heel without another word and storms out of the room. It takes me just a few minutes to decide whether or not to follow her, but by the time I make up my mind, she’s back, carrying a plastic bag of snacks from the break room and a few bottles of water.

“What do you need from him?” she asks.

Now I understand where this is going. “Eden, absolutely not—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she shoots haughtily at me. “I don’t work for you.” Turning to Callen, she asks again, “What do you need from him?”

I’m shocked when Callen takes another sip from the Styrofoam cup of coffee and then actually answers Eden’s question. “An address of where he and his buddies are hiding a bunker of explosives and assault weapons. I sent Lance out to chase down more leads, but this asshole is our best chance at stopping this.”

Eden clutches the plastic bag close to her chest. “Okay.” She draws in a deep breath. “Push the unlock button thingy—I’m ready.”

I burst out in laughter which is met with her seething scowl. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? You think I’m going to allow you in there?” I ask incredulously.

“Allow me?” she asks, eerily calm, but her normally sparkling eyes are darker and more dangerous than I’ve ever seen them before.

Fuck. I soften my voice, trying to reason with her. “Eden, I already told you, you’re”—I glance awkwardly at Callen, then just bite the bullet—“too precious to me,” I finish in a hushed tone. “He’s dangerous.”

Callen screws up his face at my admission, but Eden relaxes hers. She runs her fingers over my bloodied knuckles as Callen mumbles something I can’t hear under his breath.

“You have your superpower…and I have mine,” she says. “Trust me.”

“We can’t do any worse,” Callen finally says. “She pretty much has a doctorate in human behavior. In a way, she’s qualified as an interrogator.”

I don’t like this. But I’m going to lose this battle. “Fine,” I grunt.

“May I have the key to his cuffs?” Eden asks.

I lose my temper again. In the most intimidating tone I can muster, I inform her, “No. Non-negotiable.” I turn to Callen. “Fight me on this and you lose your best operative right now.”

Callen looks between the two of us. He pushes a button and the interrogation room door unlocks. “No key. Don’t give him your name, and no personal details about you, PALADIN, or the FBI. Remember that he’s violent and—”

“A human being?” Eden interrupts. “Or did we forget that somewhere along the line?”

The nervous energy builds in my veins as she walks through the door. I have to stop myself from ripping her backward and taking her out of the compound.

I don’t fucking like this… What is this? Worry? I used to never worry…

---