Page 14 of To Catch a Sub

“You want to be taken into protective custody?” he asked slowly. If his boss hadn’t been across the table, he might have grabbed her and tried to shake information out of her.

Or hugged her and asked her what was wrong, what was scaring her.

He grimaced at that thought. He was a fucking fool.

“No,” she said slowly. “I don’t want to be incarcerated. I want to be in the Protected Persons Service.”

His brows rose. “UKPPS is run by the NCA.” The Protected Persons Service was a national service that was mostly used when a local police force didn’t have the resources to protect a witness.

“This is an NCA building.” She gestured around them.

“This is the UK Interpol NCB which is part of the NCA, but we don’t have anything to do with other NCA operations, including UKPPS.” He was throwing around acronyms and technical terms on purpose, expecting her to be confused or overwhelmed. The technical structure of the UK’s Interpol offices, and how it intersected with both Interpol International and the National Crime Agency was a bureaucratic mess.

One Colette apparently understood. She nodded as if she knew exactly what he was saying.

“Why do you need protection?” he asked.

“I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“What did you see?”

“Information on travel routes and itineraries used by traffickers.”

Landon raised a brow. “Itineraries?”

“Yes. Including the addresses of places where they stay along the way, shipping companies willing to take their cargo, and locations of the border crossings they use.”

Landon straightened and looked at Director Kumar.

“Who are we talking about?” Anu asked.

“They’re based in Russia.” Colette hesitated on the first word, as if she were going to say something other than “they.”

“And what kind of trafficking are we talking? Art and antiquities?”

“No. Human trafficking.”

The words fell heavy in the silvery light.

“Mostly labor trafficking I think,” Colette went on, voice subdued. “They’re bringing people into Russia, then shipping them out to industrial centers all over Europe, to work in factories or construction. People from China, other parts of Asia. The Kyrgyz Republic.”

Colette was no longer looking at him, but down at her legs, which were no longer crossed. Her hands slid down the sides of her thighs, then pressed against the outsides of her knees where he’d been touching her earlier.

As if she missed his touch.

Or wanted that pressure.

“Where and how did you see this information?” he asked.

“I was…unexpectedly in an office belonging to someone high up within the…” She spread her fingers, as if seeking the term. “Organization?”

Landon crossed his arms, and her lips twitched. “So you were stealing that diamond, and saw evidence of the organized crime groups’ human trafficking.”

“I wasn’t stealing anything,” she said immediately.

“You could have submitted this information anonymously,” Landon said. “Interpol had tip lines.”

For the first time, Colette looked truly uncomfortable, shifting restlessly in her chair.