She must be the lead detective here. I remember Adam complaining about some hardass woman who wouldn’t take him seriously.
I look back to the front entrance, and my eyes widen when I see my cello being wheeled out in its case.
I press up more against the window, wanting to bang on it and beg them to be careful with it.
It’s all I have.
I’ve lost Ilya, and I don’t know that I evenwantAdam, but I don’t have anything else.
Adam walks up to the guy carrying the cello, then points at the patrol car I’m in. After a bit of back and forth, Adam takes the cello and walks toward me.
He opens the back door.
“You’ve been having fun without me, huh,” Adam says cheerfully as he forces the cello inside.
There isn’t enough space, not with me in here too. I have to slide all the way to the other end and make myself as small as possible.
“Fun?” I ask, bewildered.
“They found little packets inside the cello case,” Adam continues. “Enough to make anyone wonder if you’re the one dealing here and getting those restaurant workers high.”
I stare blankly at him. “I don’t…”
Taka.
They have to be talking about Taka.
My heart sinks.
“I didn’t. You know I didn’t,” I tell him more emphatically. “I don’t do that anymore.”
Adam’s grin widens. “Do I know that? You were getting so into that Russian trash. Did he tempt you with drugs? Riches? You think your life would be better going back to your old ways?”
“Adam…” I still don’t know what to say. “He’s not—” I cut myself off. This is already going to be bad enough. I don’t need to defend Ilya. Defending Ilya will only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” I say instead. “But the drugs aren’t mine. You have to know that.”
Somebody must have planted them there.
“I don’thaveto know anything,” Adam says. He glances over his shoulder once, then turns back to me. “I might be willing to overlook this. Depending.”
I feel sick.
“Depending on what?” I whisper.
I’m not sure I even want to know.
“You come back home with me,” Adam answers. “No nonsense ideas about breaking up. What would you even do without me? Get fucking arrested for dealing, because you can’t do anything right.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I nod.
Where else am I going to go? What else am I going to do?
I don’t want to be erased.
That’s what’s going to happen if I go home with him, but if I don’t? I’ll be arrested and probably end up in jail.
I wouldn’t survive two days, let alone however long they’d keep me there if I was convicted of dealing drugs.
“Okay,” I say, sinking back into the seat and looking out the window again because I can’t handle looking him in the face.
