He grasps my wrist as I start to slide my hand under the waistband of his black boxer briefs. His eyes burn bright in the dim light. “I need to be very clear here, Sam. You’re asking me to have sex with you. Right now.”

I press myself against him. “Yes,” I whisper in his ear.

He grasps my arms, easing me gently away from him, and something sad flickers through his blue eyes as he holds me fixed in his gaze.

I hold my breath, half afraid he’ll change his mind and half afraid he won’t. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m going to explode if I don’t have him.

He lifts a hand, cupping my chin, and brushes his thumb softly over my swollen lips. I part them, and as I take his thumb tip between my teeth and touch my tongue to it, his breath catches and his eyes slip closed in a slow blink. He lowers his hand and looks at me again, his eyes searching my face for something, before slowly shifting me onto the sofa. He gains his feet, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

Protection.

I’m so far gone I never even thought of it. A thrill skitters through me, pebbling my skin into goose bumps, and I can hardly breathe. This is it. We’re really doing this.

But he zips his jeans with his other hand as the wallet unfolds, and a glint of brass flashes in the dim room just as something else flashes in his eyes.

Regret? Pain?

He drags a hand down his face and closes his eyes, and for several beats of my racing heart he just stands there, breathing hard and saying nothing.

I sit here staring, not sure what’s happening, until he finally opens both his eyes and his mouth.

“Samantha West, you are under arrest for solicitation.”

“YOU HAVE THE  right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .” Harrison trails off, hauling a labored breath. “Sam? Are you hearing me? This is important.”

And that’s when I realize I’m just sitting here, open-jawed, staring at him. “What . . . ?” is all I can manage. I feel totally disoriented, like I fell asleep in front of an episode of Law and Order and it’s seeped into my dream.

His brow furrows as he fights to keep his gaze from dropping to my open vest. “Get dressed, Sam.”

We both fasten our buttons as he continues with my rights. By the time he’s done, I’m dressed, but I didn’t hear anything he said over the buzzing in my ears. As the weight of what’s happening slams home, the lights start to flash and my ears ring louder.

I stagger up off the sofa and, a second later, I’m on the floor without knowing quite how I got here.

“Shit!” Harrison barks as he drops to my side. “Sam?” He shakes me a little. “Sam, say something.”

His voice echoes in the distance as he says something else, but I don’t hear what it is. Gradually, I get my bearings, and when I open my eyes, I find him leaning over me, holding me in his arms. I lift my hand to his face and his gaze softens. But then I slap him. Hard.

He lets me go as his head snaps to the left.

“Bastard!” I leap to my feet and feel instantly dizzy again. I drop into the sofa as my head spins. “You’re a cop?”

He rubs his face and stands. “DEA.”

My mind reels as I try to make sense of this. I feel blindsided and betrayed, and even though I realize how ridiculous that is, considering I barely know Harrison, I can’t stop the torrent inside me as it all comes to a head.

“You fucking bastard,” I growl. “That’s all this was about? Just so you could arrest me?”

He takes a step toward me. “Sam, this isn’t about you.”

“Really? Because I’d swear you said I was under arrest.”

His jaw grinds tight. “This will all go away for you if you cooperate.”

And that’s when I remember what Nora said that first night. The cops are always snooping around, looking for a reason to shut Ben down. “Damn you!”

“Do you understand your rights?” He stoops down in front of me and reaches for my hand. “Sam?”

I yank it back and cover my face with it, suddenly disgusted by the same touch that set me on fire not five minutes ago. “You son of a bitch,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

Harrison pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a go,” he says, then tucks it back. “Sam, I need you to tell me if you understand your rights.”

“Yes,” I mumble into my hands.

“I’m sorry Sam.” His voice is low and soft, and I can tell he’s standing right in front of me.

I still don’t look at him. I want to rant. I want to scream. So, when “You know I’m not a hooker” comes out of my mouth sounding totally pathetic and defeated instead of furious, I hate myself.

In the silence that follows my statement, the sounds from outside the door change. The constant buzz of chatter from the club is punctuated by a scream, then shouting, and the steady pound of music abruptly stops. There’s more shouting, right outside my door, then the door flies open. I lift my head and see a black guy with a shaved head, maybe in his late forties, step through the doorway, gun drawn.

He reaches behind him and pulls a pair of cuffs off his belt, tossing them to Harrison. “Everything under control in here?”

“Arroyo and his wife should be in the office across the hall,” Harrison answers with a jerk of his head at the door.

“We’ve already got them,” the guy says, stepping back and peering down the hall.

“Who’s on collection?” Harrison asks.

“Jenkins.”

Harrison blows out a sigh and looks at me. “Stand up, Sam.”

I cross my arms over my chest and look away, fighting to keep the panic off my face. The only clear thought in my head is that this has to be a mistake. This can’t be happening.

OhGodohGodohGod.

“Sam, I need to—”

“No!” I snap, because right now all I want to do is choke the life out of him. I feel so dirty when I think of his hands on me. How did I fall for him so fast? First Trent, and now Harrison. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m so horrible at reading men?

He looks at me a moment longer, something deep in those glacial eyes hardening, becoming unbearably intense. But just when I think I’m going to have to drop my gaze, he spins for the door, slapping the cuffs into the other guy’s hand on his way out. “Can you get this, Cooper? I’m going to make sure Jenkins isn’t screwing up evidence.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Cooper comes over and stares down at me, jiggling the cuffs in his hand. “If you just do as you’re told, this will go so much smoother.”

“Fuck you,” I tell him without budging.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so original. Did Casanova give you your Miranda warning, by any chance?”

“Yes.”

My breathing is coming in short pants as panic starts to get the better of me. In the hall past Cooper, I see cops moving back and forth. A big guy I recognize from the pit, with a buzz cut and one of the hugest heads I’ve ever seen, stops in the door. He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, but now there’s a gun on his belt.

Cooper frowns in his general direction. “What the hell’s going on, Jenkins. I thought you were on evidence.”

“Montgomery’s got it. She our star witness?” he asks, jerking his enormous chin at me.

“The one and only,” Cooper answers, stepping back.

Jenkins claps his giant hands together, making me jump. “Let’s get her loaded up.”

I glare at Cooper. “So am I a hooker or a witness? I’m a little confused here.”

“Both,” he answers, grasping my arm. “Come with me, Jezebel.”

My head spins as Cooper drags me to my feet and clicks cuffs onto my wrists, tightening them until they pinch. I can’t help glancing in Ben’s office door as he pulls me past. Harrison’s broad back is to me as he stands at Ben’s desk. He turns his head and his gaze catches on mine for a spit second as he picks up a file and drops it into a box. The ice in those blue eyes now is so different than the warm pools I lost myself in when he kissed me just minutes ago. And that’s when I know for sure.