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“I understand.” I interrupt. “But I have my own protection.”

“You mean the club owner, Valentine?” Jamison said with a note of disapproval in his voice. “We’ve looked into him. His club. His associates.”

A spark of defensiveness ripped through my core. “Okay and?”

“He appears to be a legit businessman for the last few years. Before that, nothing.”

I held back an eye roll. “Is there anything else?”

“Everyone who was subpoenaed to testify against Alonzo Lopez is in danger until his sister is found.” Jamison said bluntly.

I met his stare with one of my own. “Then find her.”

Crowley shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “There’s something else you should know?—”

Jamison’s hand came down on his partner’s forearm. “That’s all we needed to discuss today, Detective.”

There was tension between them. Something passed between them in that look, a warning, a battle of wills. I felt it from across the table.

“What?” I pressed. “What else should I know?”

Crowley hesitated. “Just be careful out there. Chicago can be dangerous for young women. Women like you.”

Women like me?His generic warning felt hollow. It was a poor substitute for whatever he was about to say to me. Jamison’s expression was the same, but the tightness around his thin lips suggested they were holding something back.

“Is that all?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

“For now.” Jamison said, closing the manila folder. “We’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

Crowley escorted me back to the lobby. My mind raced, trying to piece together what they weren’t telling me.

As I walked through the automatic glass doors, I felt more unsettled than when I arrived. I knew that Marisol Lopez was in Chicago. But it was what the detectives wouldn’t say that had my panties in a bunch. Something else was coming. I could feel it. But damn, I had enough drama and mess for five lifetimes.

I stood on the concrete steps of the police station waiting not more than a few seconds. I spotted Josh turning the corner. He pulled to the curb with surgical precision, and I hurry down the steps, suddenly desperate to be inside the armored sanctuary. The door opened before I could reach it. Morgan’s face appeared.

“What happened?” She asked as I slid into the seat beside her. “What did they say?”

Josh met my eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression neutral. “Where to, Ms. Taylor?”

“Home, the loft.”

He nodded once and pulled away from the curb, merging seamlessly into the flow of traffic.

“Coco, what did Beavis and Butthead want?”

I took a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. “Marisol Lopez is still in Chicago. I hoped she would go back to Bloomington when she didn’t find her brother. They showed me a photo of her at the Lakeview Hotel downtown. She used her mother’s credit card last week to get a room.”

“That’s it. Did they say what she was doing here?”

“They think she’s looking for her brother. But we already knew that. Crowley offered to put me in protective custody again, but I refused.”

“Good.” Morgan said firmly. “We can protect you better than those incompetent ass cops.”

“Calm down Angela Davis.” I joked.

As I looked over at Morgan, I noticed something in her expression. “What is it?”

“I need to tell you something.” Morgan’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. She glanced at the back of Josh’s head, then leaned closer to me. “I’ve seen her—Marisol.”