Page 159 of Can You Take It?

“I get it, Wilson,” I snap, cutting him off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I hand over my badge and my backup gun. It feels like I’m losing a part of myself. We make our way to the precinct, the silence in the car oppressive.

At the office, they usher me into a conference room. Reporters are already gathered, the buzz of their chatter reaching us even through the closed doors.

“Ready?” Wilson asks, looking at me with those damn pitying eyes again.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, straightening my shoulders.

We step out, and the cameras start flashing. I take a deep breath and face the crowd.

A reporter shoves a microphone in my face. “Agent Reynolds, can you explain what happened during the interrogation with Victor Montclair?”

I clear my throat. “Victor was supposed to answer a few more questions. We set up a private interrogation. As we were talking, the fire alarms started blaring. Victor saw an opportunity to escape and made a move for it. I shot him to contain the situation, but he overpowered me. I had to shoot him again in self-defense.”

The questions come rapid-fire.

“Were there any witnesses?”

“No, it was a private session,” I reply, maintaining my composure.

“Why wasn’t proper protocol followed?”

“I made a judgment call. Victor was a possible perp in a much bigger investigation, and I believed a private setting would be safer for everyone involved.”

“Do you think you acted appropriately, given the circumstances?”

“I did what I had to do to protect myself and others,” I say firmly.

The cameras keep flashing, capturing every word, every flicker of emotion. I can’t afford to slip up.

I fake unconsciousness, even though my head feels like it’s full of lead from whatever Izel slipped into my drink. I knew something was off the moment I took a sip. Sure, Izel clouds my judgment, but I’m still a profiler at heart. I could tell she’d mixed something into that glass. The bitter aftertaste gave it away, even if she thought she was being subtle.

As soon as I hear my car leave the driveway, I force myself up from the couch, every muscle protesting as the drug courses through my system. My legs wobble, and the room spins around me, but I grit my teeth and stumble into the kitchen. Water. I need water. I grab a glass, downing it like it’s the antidote to whatever she drugged me with. It doesn’t fix the drowsiness, but it helps me focus—just enough to keep my eyes open. Just enough to follow her.

I pull out my phone, ignoring how heavy my fingers feel as I call a cab. There's no way I’m driving like this, but I can’t afford to let her out of my sight. My head spins as I track her location on my phone, watching the little dot representing her move toward the detention center.

Victor. I should’ve known. She’s been planning this for a while, hasn’t she? I try not to think about how long. All I can focus on is getting there before she does something she can’t take back. I’ll be damned if I let her ruin her life over this.

When the cab drops me off, I trail her into the building, keeping my distance. Izel gets through security, and I stay back, watching her make her way to Victor’s cell. I’m barely able to stay on my feet, but I force my way through it, keepingout of sight. Just as I’m about to follow her into the hallway leading to the cells, I spot someone standing at the door—Martin.

He doesn’t see me at first. He’s too busy nervously glancing at his watch. I tap his shoulder, and he spins around so fast, his face draining of color when he sees it’s me.

“Impersonating a law enforcement officer is a crime,” I say firmly, even though I feel like I’m seconds from passing out. I eye him up and down, taking in the ridiculous attire he’s wearing. How the hell did Izel even think he'd pass for me?

“And impersonating this badly is a fucking felony.”

Martin straightens up, trying to act tough, but the fear in his eyes is clear. He squares his shoulders like he’s ready to fight, but we both know how that would end.

“Izel’s inside, and I’m not letting you fuck this up for her.”

I roll my eyes. “It won’t be necessary. Izel can never know I was here. You understand?”

For a second, I think he’s about to argue, but he just nods. He steps aside reluctantly, but his eyes are still full of that stubborn fire, like he’s waiting for me to screw this up.

I start walking away, but Martin calls after me, “What are you doing?”

I glance over my shoulder. “Backing my girl up.”

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