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I frown, but she nods.
“Go ahead. Check. I’ll bet you whatever you want that they’ve all got the same tattoo on their necks.”
Bishop has his hand on his radio. The girl swallows nervously.
“Please? Just check first?”
He looks at me, then her, and nods. “One sec.” He steps out of the bathroom onto the porch and jogs down the stairs.
I turn to her. “What’s your name?”
She shakes her head, still looking at me with fear.
“I’m Tanner,” I say again, trying to keep my voice soothing. “And I’m not going to hurt you.”
She looks into my eyes. Goddamn she’s gorgeous. Stunning blues eyes, full red lips, and that blonde hair tumbling halfway down her back. She’s young, too, maybe college-aged, and even though she looks scared, she’s got this glow to her that I’m just fucking hooked on instantly.
“Cora,” she says quietly. “I’m Cora.”
“Nice to meet you, Cora.”
Bishop runs up the stairs and steps back into the room behind us. I glance at him, but the look on his face says it all.
“No way,” I growl.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Soldados de los Muertos,” he grunts. “Soldiers of the Dead. They’re on our radar down at the precinct, but they mostly operate much further south out of LA and San Diego. Coke mostly, but they’ve been getting into heroin and the Fentanyl trade.”
He frowns. “Darlin, I’m sorry, but I need to call this in.”
“The police—”
“The police aren’t trying to kill you, sweetheart,” he says gently. “I promise—”
“Your chief,” she gasps, her eyes darting between us. “I don’t know his name, but he’s the chief.”
I glance at Bishop, and he arches a brow at me.
“He knows I saw it all,” she whispers.
“Saw what?” I whisper.
She shakes her head.
“Bishop’s a good guy,” I say gently. “You can tell him. You can tell us.”
She looks between us again. Her eyes are wide and scared. But she swallows and then nods quietly. “Your police chief is with them,” she whispers, nodding out the door. “The cartel.”
Okay, what?
“Please,” she whispers when she sees the disbelief on our faces. “I have proof, and they know it. Please,” she begs. “Please help me.”
It’s so soft and innocent—so in need of help. Bishop and I look at each other. I know we’re both partly looking for a way out in each other’s faces. But when our eyes meet, I think we both know we’re already hooked into this.
“My place,” I grunt. “Let’s take her there, and we’ll figure this out. And then you can call this in, because I know you have to.”
Bishop rakes his fingers over his scruff. “Fuck,” he finally says. “Okay, fuck, fine.” He nods. “Let’s go, miss—” he frowns. “What’s your name, darlin?”
“Cora,” she says quietly.
