Page 17 of Angel's Share

Matt rose, but Aidan remained seated, gaze still locked with Angel’s. “Whatever it is, whoever it is, we can help.”

“Like I believe you,” he said with a sneer, yesterday’s default still in effect, but beneath the anger, distrust, and hurt, Aidan also detected exhaustion, worry, and a quiet hum of desperation.

Playing into that, he slid out of his chair and around to Angel’s side of the table, kneeling beside his godson. He almost reached for his knee but caught himself, afraid to overplay his hand. “I told you last night, I’m here for you now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“We—” As fast as he’d snapped his gaze to Aidan’s before, Angel jerked his chin the opposite direction now. “I’m fine,” he corrected.

He was done talking. For now. But Aidan carried that telling slip—we—into the hallway with him. Angel wasn’t done talking for good, and Aidan used that against Tricia’s very valid “This is a conflict of interest.”

“You heard him just now, right?” he said. “I am?—”

“The best chance of getting him to talk. Yes, I heard that too.” She ruffled her brown bangs with a heavy sigh. “I maybe even agree with you,” she conceded. “But if this backfires, Rooster will have all our asses.” She gestured between the three of them, then turned back toward the interrogation room, pausing at the door. “I’ll work on Angel. Spell things out, legally, so he understands the consequences next time you talk.”

“Which leaves us,” Aidan said, “to find out who the other part of we is.”

ELEVEN

Jamie had just filled the kitchen sink with soapy water when Danny and Mel strode in from the balcony of the Manhattan Beach condo they were borrowing, Aidan on their heels. “As much as I’d like to stay here and watch the waves all night,” Mel said, “we’ve got a plane to catch.” She had brought the jet back from wherever bounty duties had taken her, but only for a few hours to catch up with them on the case and pick up her husband.

“Are you going all the way home tonight?” Aidan asked her while Danny disappeared into the master suite to retrieve the briefcase of diamonds out of the safe where Aidan had secured it.

“Overnight in Vegas, then to SFO in the morning. I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk to Isabella.”

“I think less is more right now,” Aidan said. “She said two words to me—‘Get out’—when she arrived. I’ll try again in the morning before we meet with the AUSA.”

“She hasn’t told the PD to boot you from the case yet,” Jamie said as he rounded the dining bar. “That’s a good sign.”

Danny reemerged, briefcase in hand. “Well, once I get these back to Parsons tonight, civil charges will be off the table.”

“Every little bit helps,” Aidan said.

At the door, Danny hugged his brother, then hugged Jamie too, patting his back with a “Sorry about the game, bro.”

The condolences were appreciated but unnecessary. “As I told Aidan, we played the future national champions. I’m just pleased our guys played as hard as they did and kept it close.”

Aidan coasted a hand over his back. “I’m sorry I missed it. I heard it was a good game.”

“I’ve got the tape,” Jamie said with a wink.

“You need a lift back?” Mel asked him. “I can send the plane tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “Those were our last games before exams, so I’ve got some time off before we start to prep for post-holiday games.” He gestured at their surroundings. “And, thanks to Press”—one of his former players who now played in LA—“a place to crash while he’s on the road.”

“Try to enjoy it a little,” Mel said, a hand on his forearm, then repeating the gesture with Aidan but lingering longer. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“I keep telling him that,” Jamie said.

“Make sure he believes it.”

“Count on it,” Jamie said, kissing her cheek, then locking up behind her and Danny. By the time he returned to the kitchen, Aidan was already elbow-deep in soapy water. “Let me take care of that so you can go to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Aidan said with a weary chuckle that matched the deep lines around his eyes and the raked-through strands of his hair. “And besides, you’ve had just as little sleep as I have the past few days.” They worked in easy silence, Aidan washing, Jamie drying, until Aidan drained the sink and stole the dishtowel from Jamie to dry his own hands. “Thank you,” he said. “For calling in the favor with Press, for staying, and for agreeing to talk to Angel tomorrow.”

Jamie settled a hand in the small of his back. “Thank you for letting me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Then lowered that hand to lightly spank Aidan’s ass. “Go light up the fire pit, and I’ll bring you coffee. Or whiskey? I grabbed a bottle on the way over.”

“Whiskey in my coffee.”

“Yes, Irish,” Jamie said with a chuckle of his own.

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