I take my sunglasses off, still keeping the CZ covering both of them under the table, although I suspect Agent Scott has forgotten all about it. Scott needs reassurance before he falls apart. I give him a smile, hard-edged and deliberate and confident.

“Not the cops I know,” I say.

IT TAKES A few more minutes, but over the protests of Rondeau, who keeps telling Scott to stop talking and get a lawyer, Scott tells me how to get in touch with the Sureños. Now he’s sitting in the Ford Fusion, in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead through the windshield. I’m pretty sure he’s not seeing anything. Rondeau and I are standing by the rear bumper of the car. The girl looks shaken. She is clearly not used to being … surprised isn’t the right word. It’s more like betrayed. Her partner has betrayed both the FBI and her, and Alisha isn’t sure how to react to that.

“Who’s Timmy?” I ask, to give her something she can respond to.

“Agent Scott’s son,” she says. She takes a breath, lets it out, visibly getting hold of herself. “Timmy has CP. He’s in a wheelchair, severely disabled. Wife left them both. Agent Scott’s been raising him alone, has a nanny to help when he’s at work.”

No wonder Scott was susceptible to bribes. I can only imagine what the health care costs are for his son. And now I feel a vague sense of guilt for thinking of Scott as just an asshole. But I don’t have time for that right now. “Where does Agent Scott live?”

Rondeau stares at me. “Why?”

“Because after I call the cops, I need to get his son out of his home and somewhere safe.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of it.”

“Not a chance. Either tell me now or I’ll find out anyway, but it’ll waste time. And the sooner these guys get locked up, the better. Plus you’ve got to figure out what to do with him.” I nod toward Agent Scott, sitting in the car.

Rondeau’s eyes flare and she stares at me, her entire body language saying Fuck off. Most people would find this intimidating. I find it a little intimidating. But it’s also hot as shit, and she has no idea.

I let her know with a look back, not breaking eye contact. It takes a little bit to register with her, but then I see confusion in her eyes, then understanding, then shock and embarrassment and … is that excitement? No—she’s hesitant, awkward, a whole slew of emotions exploding in her like popcorn.

I grin. “Nice talking to you too,” I say. “Now are you going to tell me where Agent Scott lives?”