Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Jamie flashed his visitor's badge for the guard standing outside the interrogation room, the door partially open. "Jamie Walker, SAC Talley's husband. He asked me to wait with Angel."

The guard pushed the door the rest of the way open. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, thanks." Jamie closed the door behind him, then leaned back against the wall, assessing the frowning young man on the other side of the table. In a dark suit, white shirt, and green and red striped tie, his curls tamed into submission, Angel looked ready to accompany his mom to Sunday Christmas service. A closer study, however, revealed bags under his eyes, torn-up cuticles, restless limbs, and a gnawed-on lower lip in serious need of balm. But the bitter huff that escaped his lips was all surly teen.

Jamie pushed off the wall and slid into the chair across from him. "Something funny?"

"How does he always get the hot ones?"

Jamie didn't have to ask who Angel was referring to. " Have you seen him? He's pretty hot too." The hottest man Jamie had ever seen. Sure, he was biased where his husband was concerned, but he'd put Aidan up against anyone in a hotness contest.

Angel rolled his eyes. "The red hair is new."

"My doing." Jamie stretched a hand across the table. "Jamie Walker, Aidan's husband."

"I heard," Angel said as he shook his hand. Firmer than necessary, but Jamie let him have that. The kid was no doubt grasping for any straws of control within reach. "Angel Crane."

"I heard you have some questions about how I pulled that maneuver in the hipster wagon Saturday."

Angel's snicker was the reaction Jamie wanted. "I can't believe you pulled that off in that car."

"What else was I supposed to do with that giant ass-end?"

Snickering became laughter, then questions, which Jamie gamely answered. At some point, they would probably regret Jamie teaching him how to drift in any vehicle, but today, in this moment, it was the opening they needed, especially when Angel asked, "How'd you learn to drive like that?"

He rested his forearms on the table, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "My dad used to work on cars. I'd watch him like a hawk. He died when I was five, before I could get under the hood myself." Jamie didn't call attention to Angel's jolt or his widening eyes; just kept talking, kept offering connections. "My mom worked at a local diner. I'd hang out there after school, and there was a go-cart place next door. As soon as I was tall enough, I was behind the wheel, and if I tweaked a couple things on the engine that was right there in front of me..." He shrugged and rested back in his chair, legs crossed.

Angel tracked the movement, from Jamie's toe all the way to his head. "Guessin' you hit that ‘this high' signpost early?"

"You could say that."

They shared another laugh, Angel's trailing off first. "I'm sorry about your dad," he said.

"I'm sorry about yours too." The silence that settled between them felt more comfortable than awkward. Jamie was getting somewhere with him, slowly but surely, and so, despite how much Jamie wanted to lean forward before delivering his next thought, he hung back, giving Angel space to react. "You know... what he did, he did to protect you and your family."

Angel quickly averted his gaze. "He left us."

"I didn't know him," Jamie said. "But from what Aidan's told me, I'm fairly certain that was never Tom's intention. Just like you'd never voluntarily leave Bev either."

Angel's gaze whipped back to his, and all those earlier signs of anxiety and exhaustion manifested in his wide blue eyes, along with a heaping side of fear.

Jamie did lean forward then. "We can help you, Angel. We can help Bev, whatever the situation."

He shook his head. "If I talk, they won't let her come back."

"To school?"

Angel didn't nod, just locked his desperate gaze with Jamie's. Then, after a seemingly endless few seconds, he blinked. Was he.. .

Jamie tested his theory. "Did White give you the briefcase?"

Another blink.

It was a razor-thin interpretation of "not talking" but a technicality Angel was smart enough to see and use. A way to communicate the help he needed because he and Aidan were right: Angel was protecting someone.

Beverly Kildare.

"Is White's sister, Deidra, working with him?"

A slower blink, and Angel dug his teeth into his lip so hard he winced.

"She doesn't want to be?" Jamie tried.

Two blinks—not quite right—and when Angel stared back at him, his bright blue eyes were watery, pity and anger swirling together in the glassy sheen.

"Or Deidra just doesn't care," Jamie guessed, his stomach sinking at the reality of a too common story. "As long as the state and White pay her."

Angel caved, unable to hold the emotions in any longer. "Get Bev out, please. I tried, I did what White wanted, both times, at the port and then taking that briefcase for him. He was supposed to get paid and leave. And once he paid Deidra, she'd go on a bender like she always does, and I could get Bev out of there. But I screwed up and got caught, and now I don't know what's happened to Bev."

"Hey, hey, hey." Jamie covered his hands that were splayed on the table. "You did good, Angel. Real good. We'll take it from here."