Page 28 of Wicked Sin

“It’s where her husband works.”

“Who’s her husband?”

“His name is Cole Parker. He’s a crisis management expert.”

“Jesus Christ, Taylor.” He lets go of me and paces backward. His face is still twisted in anger. “That’s what this is about? You tricked me to follow you just so you could start to cover everything up?”

“What? No!”

“I’ve read your father’s file. Cole Parker is all over his earlier investigations. That guy is a pro at making things disappear. But you are wrong if you think that will keep you safe. Someone wants you to do this. They want you running scared. You get that? We played right into their hands. Maybe he planted that device. Did you ever think of that?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” I jut my chin at him. “I’m not stupid. That occurred to me the second you sat me down in that interrogation room. Who would want me to be scared? Cole, a thousand percent. That’s. Why. I’m. Here.”

11

Luke

She seriously plannedto walk into the lion’s den herself. “And then what was your plan? Confront someone who wanted to kill you? Assume that a former Navy SEAL would just go, oops, my bad, so sorry?”

“If it was Cole, he didn’t want to kill me.” She looks me straight in the eye. None of the affected personality before.

I believe her, or at least, I believe that she believes herself. “That’s a dangerous gamble.”

“Wouldn’t be the first, won’t be the last. I know what I’m doing, Detective Vasquez.” She trips over my name.

Hey, Luke.

The breathy, lippy response is still rocketing around in my brain. Like, oh, you caught me, ha-ha.

I’m playing with fire here. I can feel it, even if I can’t see it. “The problem is, I don’t know what you’re doing. That needs to stop.”

Slowly, she nods. “Okay. You can come with me.”

Like there was any other option. “And what’s the plan? The real plan this time. Not some cover story that allows you to abandon me, the person who is going to fucking keep you alive.”

“We’re going to The Horus Group. They’re a crisis management firm that has worked for my family before. They’re ruthless. Ex-cops, ex-special forces. You’ll get along great with them.”

“You don’t like them.”

She smiles, and it’s sad. “I don’t like anyone in this town. It’s not personal.”

I think it is completely personal, and when we’re done with this ridiculous exploratory mission, I’m going to poke her hard in that wound and see what slides out. “And we’re going to straight up ask them what they want with you?”

“Pretty much.”

It’s not the worst plan. “I’d like to give the D.C. police a heads up that I’m doing this. Questioning people out of jurisdiction and all that.”

She screws up her face and nods.

I keep her pinned against the wall while I place a call to the contact Captain Woods gave me yesterday—just in case.

“Detective Kendra Browning,” the woman answers.

“Detective, my name is Luke Vasquez, LAPD.” I give her my badge number. “I’m in D.C. for the day, strictly on background, and something has come up where I’m going to be introducing myself as a cop and asking some questions. I wanted to let you know first.”

There’s a pause as she looks me up. “Okay, Detective. Shoot.”

I give her the brief rundown of the car bomb yesterday, and the complicating factor of the Dashford Reid family connections. “So I’m going to a crisis management firm on K Street, and if you want to come with me, I’ll understand. No intent to ruffle any feathers here.”

---