Page 33 of Tight Spaces

The man jumped up to follow her, but Max got between them. "If you’d found drugs in her apartment, she’d already be under arrest. You’ve fucked up this investigation and any chance of a promotion you might have gotten out of it."

With that, he left, catching up with Danusia before she was out of the building.

"That man is an idiot."

"He lacks imagination."

"Oh, I’d say he’s got plenty of that."

"No, for him, it’s same old, same old. He can’t wrap his mind around a crime that isn’t centered on drugs or domestic violence."

"He thought I was making drugs." She sounded so furious and so hurt.

Max put his arm around her shoulder, even as he maintained easy access to his concealed weapon. "It wasn’t personal, sweetheart."

"It felt personal."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Sure. I’ve been pulled over for nothing more than DWB."

"What’s that?"

"Driving while black."

She didn’t laugh like he expected. "That’s terrible."

"Hey, it happens to teenagers too. No matter how much they deny it, law enforcement profiles."

She stopped three cars down from where they’d parked and looked up at him, eyes swimming with hurt. "Do I look like a drug dealer? Maker? Whatever?"

"Now, you’re profiling."

"Yeah, I guess. I don’t like it, and I don’t know what to do." Her lower lip jutted and he felt like a heel because all he wanted to do was nibble on it. "I’ll have to call my family," she said in the next breath, her tone about as happy as new recruits told they had an extra hour of PT before mealtime.

"No, you don’t."

"I don’t?"

"I’ll call in some friends."

"Like Roman did for Elle’s wedding."

"Something like that." But this situation was going to take official government involvement.

"Why would you do that?"

"You’re too smart for stupid questions, sweetheart."

"I was right."

"About what?"

"Professor does sound just like sweetheart the way you say it."

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