She took a deep breath, like she was having a break in the middle of a marathon. “Good. All right then. Now, it says here you live over on Tremont. How long have you been there?”

“Just over two weeks.”

He could tell by the way her brows went together that that wasn’t going to help him much. “You’re unemployed?”

The technical term was AWOL, he thought. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have any family? Here or elsewhere in the state?”

“No.” His father and brothers all thought he was dead, and that was just fine with him. And them as well in all likelihood.

“At least you don’t have any priors.” She closed the file. “I’ll go up in front of the judge in about a half hour. The bail’s going to be steep . . . but I know some bondsmen we could approach to put up the money.”

“How high do you think it will be?”

“Twenty thousand—if we’re lucky.”

“I can cover it.”

Another frown and she reopened his file, taking a second gander at his paperwork. “You stated here that you have no income and no savings.”

As he stayed quiet, she didn’t give him flak and didn’t seem surprised. No doubt she was used to people like him lying, but unfortunately, he was willing to bet his life that what he was keeping from her was far, far deadlier than what her Good Samaritan antics usually brought her in contact with.

Shit. Actually, he was betting her life on it, wasn’t he. Matthias cast a wide net when it came to assignments, and anyone standing next to Isaac ran the risk of being in the crosshairs.

Except once he was gone, she was never going to see him again.

“How’s your face?” she asked after a moment.

“It’s fine.”

“It looks as if it hurts. Do you want any aspirin? I’ve got some.”

Isaac stared down at his busted hands. “No, ma’am. But thank you.”

He heard the clip-clip of her high heels as she got to her feet. “I’ll be back after I—”

The door opened and the muscle who’d taken him up from holding came barreling in.

“I’m off to talk to the judge,” she said to the guard. “And he was a perfect gentleman.”

Isaac allowed himself to be dragged upright, but he wasn’t paying attention to the officer. He was staring at his public defender. She even walked like a lady—

His arm got yanked hard. “You don’t look at her,” the guard said. “Guy like you doesn’t even look at someone like her.”

Mr. Manners’ death grip was a little annoying, but there was no faulting the SOB’s opinion.