“Ready?” Hunter asks as he slips the drive into his laptop.
I nod tightly, and Ella presses herself into my side.
“Ready,” she whispers.
Hunter opens it, and we’re presented with a single file. A spreadsheet. It loads quickly.
It’s a list of names, addresses, and dollar figures.
“What is this?” Hunter mumbles, scrolling. There are hundreds of names, the list seemingly never ending. “I don’t recognize anyone. Do you?”
I lean my hand on the back of his chair to get a closer look. No name rings a bell; they all seem totally random. The only thing they have in common is that every address is in California.
“Wait …” Ella frowns. “Can I sit?” Hunter nods and stands, and Ella takes his place. She scrolls for a few seconds, brows pinched together. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I ask.
“They’re all cops.” She points to a name. “I know this guy, this woman … her, and him and … I’ve met some of them.” She Control and Fs, then types in a name: Deacon Watts. RoboCop. He comes up, so does an address, and a figure of close to thirty-five grand. Ella looks up at me. “Could these be bribes?”
“Who the hell could have this many cops working for them?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but if this list got out, whoever has been paying them will lose a hell of a lot of power,” Hunter says. “We can’t function without having eyes on the inside. They’d be well and truly fucked.”
“I guess that explains why they wanted you,” I add, looking at Ella. “If the police chief’s daughter got her hands on this?”
She lets out a shaky breath. “They know I’d go straight to my dad.” She taps the desk thoughtfully. “Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”
As she stands and rounds the desk, I take her wrist. “Ella, you need to think about this. This is serious.”
“I’m well aware, Gable. I was front row and center for tonight’s fun.”
My jaw tenses. “You do this, you’re signing your death warrant.”
“And what’s the other option?”
Something I’ve been thinking about the entire ride here. Something that keeps us safe.
“I get you out of the country. You start a new life.”
Her eyes widen. “You want to run? After everything?”
“Yes, I do.”
The rage that crosses her face is one I’m familiar with, so I don’t let it burn me. She snatches the hard drive out of the laptop.
“These people are criminals. They’re liars. They deserve to go to prison.”
She whirls to leave, but when I speak again, she freezes.
“So am I,” I say, and she keeps her back to me. “I’m worse than them.”
When she faces me, she’s still angry, and I can’t blame her. But this is something we have to face, don’t we?
She’s good, I’m not.
She’s innocent, I’m not.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Hunter says, and leaves.
