“You’ve got ten seconds to change your mind, Madison,” Captain Holt said from behind the armory counter.

“Why would I change it?”

“Bradley Collins is a senior partner at an expensive firm,” Holt said.

“He knows every county deputy in that building.”

“He doesn’t know federal banking law,” I said.

I picked my tactical helmet up off the steel counter and buckled the chin strap snug under my jaw.

The weight of the Kevlar and the helmet pressed down on my neck, familiar and solid.

I turned away from the armory desk and walked out into the motor pool lot.