Page 17

No judgment, just the easy banter I'm used to here.

I choke out a greeting, rushing by so she won't see the tears stinging my eyes, and I grab an apron from behind the door.

As long as I still have this, I can handle everything else.

I've just started peeling the potatoes when a familiar voice speaks behind me.

"Alessa?"

I nearly drop the knife as I whirl to see Natalie Miller standing there with a tub full of potatoes for washing at the next prep station. For a moment we just stare at each other.

She's dressed down in jeans and a hoodie, a stained apron covering her clothes. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail again and she has no trace of makeup on. She looks...

Real.

She gives a weak smile. "Please don't kill me."

I harden my tone, covering my surprise. "Too many witnesses. What the hell are you doing here?"

She pauses, sets down the heavy bowl of potatoes in her hands, and wipes down her hands fingers before facing me again. "Wednesdays, right? I knew you'd come for your regular shift. It was the only way I could speak with you again."

Her gaze darts around, checking for eavesdroppers. The staff are occupied, used to ignoring the conversations between those they serve. She turns back to me, expression earnest.

I cross my arms, eyebrow raised. "So the FBI is stalking me now? And here I thought we’d moved past that stage."

She flushes slightly. "I’m not—I just want to talk."

"Save your breath, Agent Miller. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested."

"I looked into what you told me. About the evidence, the drugs and the money. And I…I think you were right." She swallows. "There's a corrupt officer working in my team in the Bureau."

I stare at her, thrown. I wasn't sure she actually believed me about the FBI misconduct and sabotage. But here she is, seeking me out to tell me I was right all along. That she believes me.

It's way too convenient. "You honestly expect me to believe you had some eleventh hour change of heart? Please. I wasn’t born yesterday."

Natalie rushes on. "I don't know how far up it goes. But I'm going to find out." Her eyes harden with determination.

Interesting.

She takes a deep breath. "But I can't do it alone. I'll need help finding proof." Her gaze locks with mine. "I thought, if you could be honest with me about everything—it would help. If you're willing."

I stare at her, thoughts spinning. Is this an elaborate trap to try squeezing more information from me? But no, her body language reads as sincere, her face open and hopeful.

Well, well, well.

"So you wantmyhelp cleaning upyourmess?" I give a derisive laugh. "I can tell you right now what my lawyer would tell me to tell you."

She drops her voice even lower. "No lawyers. And no agents. I'm still on leave—a private citizen. And of course I don't expect you to tell me anything incriminating. I just want to compare notes."

"And how do I know this isn't just another plot to undermine me?"

Her expression tightens at the accusation. "You don't. You have no reason to trust me." She looks down, and when she meets my eyes again, I'm startled by the vulnerability there. "But I'm asking you to anyway. Please. For the—" She mouths the final words, but I understand them well enough.

For the women you're helping.

I'm momentarily at a loss. She seems so different. This Natalie is stripped bare, her emotions plain on her face.

The thing is, I have no idea what she thinks I know. The plain fact is, I've told her everything that I'm aware of, and whoever planted that evidence in the Ruby, I didn't see them do it. Besides, I've destroyed all the records pertaining to the casino. I couldn't even tell her who was on shift that night, let alone which members of the FBI raided the place.