“I want a lawyer.”

“You aren’t charged with a crime.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Be reasonable, Ms. Benoit. There’s a good chance Cordeau is already on his way to find you. We can’t protect you from him unless you agree to protective custody.”

“You can’t protect me, and I wouldn’t help you now if my life depended on it. You’re no better than him.”

“I’m a cop, Ms. Benoit,” Tuttle reminded. “It’s my job to catch criminals, especially ones as bad as Rafe Cordeau.”

“You had no problem throwing me under the bus so you could give your undercover man a leg up the ladder with Rafe. You knew if Rafe found me he might kill me, but that was of little consequence to you, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not true. We can protect you.”

Catarina stabbed a finger toward him. “You were so smug, you were certain I’d come running to you for help. Was that because I have no education and you figured I was stupid and easily manipulated?”

She could tell by the way his face stilled that she’d hit very close to the truth.

Tuttle shook his head. “Please sit down, Catarina. The bottom line right now is that your life very well could be in jeopardy. Whether or not we made a wrong decision is a moot point. We have to keep you alive. That’s what matters now.” His voice had gone soothing.

She took a deep breath. “I have nothing more to say to you. I would like to leave. You have nothing to hold me on. Nothing at all.”

“You do understand if you leave this room I can’t guarantee your safety?”

“I understand that if I stay here, I’m going to die. I want to leave.”

The argument went on for two more hours. Back and forth until finally Catarina lapsed into silence and Tuttle threw his hands up into the air, realizing he wasn’t going to get her cooperation. He swore under his breath and stood up.

“Wait here.” His voice was terse. Angry.

It wasn’t like she could go anywhere once he closed the door to the interrogation room. Catarina began to pace back and forth. They’d tried to trap her. She had no idea how the police had found her, but they weren’t out to help her, or protect her. They were looking for a way to force her cooperation.

Rafe had once told her, in his casual way, that the police were every bit as corrupt as everyone else. They used people. Informants and snitches. Junkies and prostitutes. They cared nothing about those they tied to them, those risking their lives. At least, he’d said, he played fair.

Some part of her had always thought he’d lied, even though he’d never lied to her, even though his voice rang with truth. Now she knew it was true. The DEA had tried to force her into testifying against Rafe by putting her life on the line. They hadn’t cared that they would be putting the lives of her friends there right along with hers.

She would have no choice now, not if she wanted to save them all. Every cop who had searched the warehouse had left their scent behind – a scent once Rafe found he’d never forget. She had to get out fast and try to get Rafe to follow her immediately if she wanted to make certain Ridley was never touched by Rafe. His scent was all over the warehouse. Rafe might ignore Malcom’s presence because he owned the warehouse, but Ridley was a different matter.

She froze. Ridley had been in her bed. His scent would be on the sheets and pillowcases. Rafe wouldn’t wait to find out whether or not Ridley had touched her. He would search for him first and kill him, even before he went after her.

She had to get to Rafe first. He might want her dead, but she’d left before and he hadn’t killed her. That meant he might still want her in his life. She could bargain with him. It was a risk, but to save Ridley she would try it. She could offer herself to him. She’d stay with him until he didn’t want her anymore, and she’d never again try to escape him, as long as Ridley was alive and well. She couldn’t just specify Ridley. She had to include the other two men so it didn’t seem like Ridley was any more important to her than the others.

She took a deep breath and let it out. She would be exchanging her life for theirs. Whatever Rafe wanted from her, he was getting impatient waiting for. She had a feeling he was waiting for whatever it was inside of her, the entity that she felt every now and then, the one with teeth and claws, waiting to emerge. As long as she was away from Rafe, she’d been able to keep it under control, but she knew if she went back to him, it was only a matter of time – and then she’d be like he was.

Tuttle returned and she swung around to face him. He handed her a cell phone and a card. “I want you to use this if you change your mind.”

“I won’t be using it,” she said and kept her hands at her sides.

“Take it anyway. I think you’ll need it. Word on the street is, Cordeau is on the move and he’s heading this way.”

“That’s no surprise, Detective. I need a taxi.”

“I can get one of my men to give you a ride home,” Tuttle said.

“I prefer a taxi. Please just call one for me.”

“This is suicide,” Tuttle suddenly hissed. “You’re committing suicide.”

Catarina took the cell phone and card from him just to shut him up. She didn’t have a back pocket so she kept them in her fist. “That’s one way to look at it. Another would be that you and your fellow cops murdered me.”

She swept past him into the hall. Tuttle indicated for her to go to her left and she did. Instantly she was surrounded by noise. Conversation. The ringing of phones. Desks and computers and people poring over reports. Normal was going on when her world was shattered. She walked with her head up, refusing to acknowledge she was in her sweatpants and a tank top and nothing more. She knew by the sudden hush that every officer in the room knew who she was and why she was there.