Tyrone reacted to that smile just the way she hoped. His eyes took on a wary look. He studied A.J. the way one warrior studies another.
“I’ve told you everything I know. Do we have to go over this again?”
Sienna placed a file on the table and took her time in sitting down and getting comfortable. “Oh, Tyrone, I just wanted you to know that I traced the handguns in your car.”
She waited a beat for that information to settle in.
He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze away from her knowing eyes.
“Seems they were stolen, too.”
“I bought those—”
“Don’t bother denying it. Oh, by the way. This is David Buckner’s brother. He’s a Navy SEAL and I heard they know how to bruise a man without leaving a mark.”
“Why are you telling me that?”
“You’re a smart guy, Tyrone. Although your choice of employer does leave something to be desired.”
Sienna picked up the result of her search and slid the paper over to him.
“What’s this?” Tyrone asked, picking up the paper as if it were a live snake.
“I cross-referenced your name with all known gunrunners in our handy dandy database, and guess who bailed you out of jail?”
“Esteban Rojas,” Tyrone said, closing his eyes. “You’re looking for David Buckner?”
“Him and the stolen military weapons. A little cooperation would go a long way.”
“No, lady, you’ve got that part wrong. It’d be a short trip six feet under.”
A.J. shifted and Tyrone fidgeted in his chair.
Sienna inclined her head. “I could offer you police protection, as much as that sticks in my craw.”
“Right.” Tyrone snorted. “Cops with me twenty-four seven. Are you crazy? No, thank you. I’ve had enough of your kind of hospitality.”
“That’s too bad. My heart is breaking for you.” She used her disinterest as another tool, slowing down the pace of the interview until Tyrone was squirming in his chair. “It’s really simple, Ty. If you don’t tell me what you know, you’re on your own.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“That’s fine. You may make bail on the gun charges—probably deal them down so you may not do any time. But word has a way of spreading. It’s a crying shame the way criminals are such gossips.” She let that thought simmer in his brain. “Don’t you think that Rojas knows you’ve been scooped up? He’s no dummy. If I have information that only you could tell me, well, you do the math.”
“I didn’t tell you anything.”
“Not a math genius, I see. One way or another, I’m going to get Rojas, and when I do, I’ll let you go. What do you think old Esteban is going to think?” Casually she opened a file and produced a list. “He might wonder if I got this list as a result of you telling me about that stolen Colorado shipment.”
“I didn’t give you anything.” Sweat popped out on Tyrone’s forehead as he stared at the list.
“That’s the funny thing about police officers. We can stretch the truth. It’s like rubber. You know, Ty,” she added, leaning toward him, “some people add two and two and get five. Happens all the time.”
“That ain’t legal.” He moistened his lips. “It’s blackmail.”
“We could get along just fine, Ty.” She nudged the list toward him. “If you could find it in your heart to stop lying as easily as you take a breath, maybe I’d care if you ended up feet first at the morgue.” She smiled. “If we were best buddies, I’d make sure my friends were taken care of, maybe with a new identity, a new life.”
Something flickered in his eye. She knew it was doubt. “You talking witness protection program?”
“Now you’re doing the math. Only problem is that a big favor like that needs something strong to grease the wheels.” When he hesitated, she sighed. “You better choose sides, pal. Gunrunners do not have a sense of humor.”