Page 10 of Angel's Share

“JFK,” Danny replied. “Izzy worked the red-eye from LAX the night before.”

Leaving Angel to his own devices. Jamie idly wondered how often. Could he hack into those same channels of Mel’s to find out? Or directly into the airline’s manifests? Jamie was still putting together mental to-do lists when Rick opened the hallway door and poked his head into the room.

“Danny, you got a sec to go through more port footage?”

Knowing it would be longer than a second, Jamie closed the door behind his brother-in-law and refocused on the interrogation.

“Did you know what you were stealing?” Matt asked.

“Or who it belonged to?” Berat added.

“I didn’t steal nothing,” Angel huffed, despite his public defender, Tricia Harris’s, caution to remain quiet. “I was just taking that briefcase across town for a friend. I didn’t know it was stolen.”

“Then why’d you run from us once you spotted the tail?” Matt said. He was a cagey interrogator, nonreactive, almost flat, a stark contrast to his out of work personality.

“Because someone was tailing me.”

“With flashing lights and sirens.”

“Instinct,” Angel sneered as he cut a glare at Aidan. With his tan skin, shaggy brown curls, and long dark lashes, his light blue eyes, burning bright with anger, were a startling focal point. “Doesn’t usually end well for me.”

“If you were just moving a briefcase,” Berat said, “then what were you doing at the port yesterday?”

“Field trip.”

“Except that wasn’t your school class.” The detective leaned forward. “Were you creating a diversion, or were you there to confirm the goods were on-site?”

“Don’t answer that,” Tricia said, and this time the kid listened. Either way, Angel’s actions were coordinated, and he had no good explanation for them.

“If you tell us who you were supposed to meet at LAX,” Matt said, eliciting a revealing flick of Angel’s gaze, “we can make this easier on you.”

“Or who you were working with at the port,” Berat said. “Was it Darien White who told you the plan? Who handed the briefcase off to you? Did he get into another car afterward?” The San Diego field team had found the abandoned cargo truck five miles shy of the border checkpoint. Empty, with no White in sight.

“Felonies off the table?” Tricia asked.

“Not in my power to deal,” Matt said, resting back in his chair. “But I can ask and recommend.”

“Then you better go do that.” Tricia wasn’t backing down, which Jamie appreciated. Any LEO worth their salt would for the sake of justice. And in this case, he personally appreciated it, for Angel’s and Aidan’s sakes.

Hell, Jamie was surprised Aidan hadn’t already put one of their several defense attorney friends on a private plane down here. Jamie knew firsthand the lengths Aidan would go to for family, even if they were estranged.

Even as Aidan was being eaten alive by guilt.

Jaw clenched, brows knitted over worried-sick eyes, Aidan hadn’t taken his gaze off Angel despite the teen’s stinging barbs. He waited for Matt and Berat to leave the room before asking Angel, “How did you get wrapped up in this?”

“What else was I supposed to do when you took everything from us?”

Angel’s words were barely a whisper, but they landed like a grenade, Jamie’s own balance momentarily shaken as he imagined the hole they’d ripped open in Aidan’s chest. The next second, Jamie’s legs were back under him, and his hand was on the doorknob, ready to throw it open and barge in to protect Aidan from another blow.

Aidan’s gaze darted his direction, as if he could see him through the glass, as if he could sense him simmering just on the other side. He shook his head, once, and Jamie stopped short, coming back to his senses. His presence wouldn’t help. Nor was it necessary, Angel’s PD stepping in again and cautioning him against saying more. Angel pressed his lips together, and Aidan had apparently had enough too, pushing off the wall and walking through the door Jamie opened for him.

He closed it behind Aidan, clicked off the interrogation room speaker, then drew Aidan into his arms. He was stiff as a board, muscles coiled tight with adrenaline, breaths coming short and fast, on the verge of hyperventilating. Cradling his head in one hand, Jamie glided his other up and down Aidan’s back, repeating the motion until Aidan’s breaths slowed. Until eventually his muscles loosened, and he wrapped his arms around Jamie’s waist.

“Thank you,” he said after another couple minutes in each other’s arms.

“I’m glad I was here.”

Aidan gave him a squeeze before stepping out of his hold. He turned and leaned against the wall beside the glass, looking back through it at Angel. “I’m not certain I wouldn’t have punched a wall just now if you weren’t. I’m glad for that. Less glad you’re having to see this. That I let things get to this,” he said with a futile gesture toward the glass.

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