“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.

Catarina swept past them like a queen. She’d been raised in Rafe Cordeau’s home. All those years growing up his soldiers had treated her differently than they had other women. She’d learned to be composed at all times and that composure saved her now.

She swept by the desks without looking at any of them. Glancing at the exit sign above a stairwell, she headed for that, ignoring the elevators. She had an aversion to elevators, and she needed to move anyway. Her gaze swept the offices and she stopped dead. Froze. Everything in her stilled.

She found herself staring into golden eyes. He was watching her through the glass. Ridley Cromer. Her Ridley. Dressed as he’d been the night before when he’d laid in her bed. When he’d kissed her. A kiss she’d asked him for. When she laid her soul bare before him. When she’d trusted him.

She couldn’t move for a moment. She couldn’t think. Her stomach heaved and she found herself vomiting all over the floor. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Along with his faded blue jeans and tight tee, he wore a badge. A big, fat shiny badge.

The sense of betrayal, the hurt, was worse than when her mother had sold her to Rafe. Something inside her shattered, broke apart. She felt it go. She felt the knife twisting in her heart. She’d let him in. She’d trusted him. She’d given everything she could to him. She would have traded her life for his.