Liam nods. “It’s a start.”
But I can sense what he doesn’t say out loud. “But it isn’t enough.”
“It could take weeks to analyze—which is good for supplementary information, but we suspect that Lee Wei-Shen will make a move soon. Either to liquidate his assets entirely or cast suspicion somewhere else to cover his tracks.”
Which would explain why Gino was so shaken.
“He’s just one player among many,” Liam explains. “This ring stretches nationwide, but we’ve never been able to crack any of the cells.”
“And yet you keep shooting down any suggestions,” Rafe points out, his suspicion obvious. “So what do you propose, Mr. FBI? Though hell, you could be up Shen’s ass like the rest of them.”
“I could,” Liam admits. “And while I can’t authorize you to wear a wire and garner a confession on audio—or better yet, catch Shen in the process of covering his tracks—that would be the best piece of evidence I could use to quickly advance the investigation far enough to make an arrest. But it’s dangerous.” He faces me directly, and for the first time, a hint of concern displaces his otherwise serious expression.
“You said the force here is corrupt,” Rafe says, but I don’t miss how he moves to my side. His hand lands over my shoulder, anchoring me to him. “My place was searched the other fucking day. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
“Branden’s was too,” I add, frowning.
“If anything were found, there would be an arrest by now,” Liam says. “We’re at the end of the rope. A few more days without a solid lead, and this ring just moves to another city.”
“So, what do we do?”
Rafe inclines his head. “If you won’t ‘sanction’ anything, then what good are you?” he demands.
“I can analyze the cell phone, for one,” Liam says, reaching for the device. “And, while I can’t participate in any official capacity, I can be on standby. And if I happen to misplace some equipment in the meantime, then so be it.”
“Good,” Rafe says, his teeth flashing in the shadow. “I have an idea.”
Chapter Nineteen
Despite the time I’ve spent away, Mr. Zhang’s shop feels the same. Here, amongst the dusty bookshelves, I can ignore the rest of reality. I even volunteer to finish out the business day, allowing Mr. Zhang to leave early.
But I can’t ignore the tension lacing the air with every passing second. I’m jumping at every noise to break the quiet, and when the bell above the door chimes, I stiffen in anticipation even before I turn to face the figure standing near the entrance.
Shock hits me like a punch, but not in the way I’ve been expecting. “Mara?”
I stagger around the counter to meet her, stopping a few feet away. She’s wearing her black uniform from the restaurant and must have just gotten off. Her arms are crossed, her gaze wary.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but I can’t stop myself from scanning the view of the street behind her. Apart from a few pedestrians, no one else is there.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting your boyfriend?” Mara asks, turning on her heel. “Let me just leave, then—”
“Wait! I’m sorry,” I blurt in a rush. Awkwardly, I fiddle with a stand of pens beside the register, unsure of what else to do with my hands. From over my shoulder, I say, “I am just surprised you’re here.”
“My dad needed me to pick up a cookbook for him,” she snaps, crossing over to a section of glossy new recipe books. She grabs one seemingly at random and flips through it, her back to me. After a second, she pointedly clears her throat. “Isn’t this the part where you grovel for forgiveness?”
“Um…” I blink in shock and promptly knock over a row of silver ballpoints. I scramble to rearrange them, but when I finally face her, she’s watching me, her head cocked expectantly. “Yes. I’m so sorry—”
“Good.” She sets the book aside and places her hands on her hips. “Holding grudges can give you wrinkles, and I just don’t have the energy to expend on dumb boy drama. Besides, it looks like you have more than enough of that for the both of us,” she adds, raising an eyebrow.
My cheeks catch fire. Only God knows what the chaos outside of the café looked like to her. “It wasn’t like that.”
“So what was it like, then? Just you gloating over the fact that you were screwing Rafe despite encouraging me to go after him? That’s fucked up.”
I don’t deny it. Finally, she sighs.
“The least you can do is spill the drama. I might be able to forgive you for keeping Rafe your naughty secret, but two sexy men? Who was that boy scout?”
I choke out a sound that might be a laugh. “Someone who I can assure you is all yours.”
“I’m off this weekend,” she says, heading toward the door without the cookbook. “You owe me dinner. My parents’ place, and you might want to borrow lover boy’s wallet. I plan on eating big.”
“Deal.”
I watch her go, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. The relief lightens some of the heavy mood from before. When I finally finish my shift and head out the dread returns. I’ve barely put the key in the lock when I sense a presence approach me from behind. “You think this is funny?” a man snarls against my ear. Alarm shoots down my spine, but before I can even think to run, he snatches my forearm in a vice grip. “You go and jump out of a fucking window? What the hell has gotten into you?”
I turn to face him, steeling myself for what I might find—but nothing could prepare me for this. Branden, but in a state I’ve never seen him in before. His eyes are wild, hair mussed, and unkempt. Instead of his uniform, he wears crumpled sweats and a T-shirt, and his breath sears my nostrils, unmistakably tainted with alcohol.
“Why
