Page 20 of Angel's Share

Standing, Jamie grabbed a pad of paper off the credenza and handed it to Izzy. She scribbled a short list, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Aidan.

“Hang tight,” he said, rising next to Jamie. “Let us see what we can do.”

He turned to leave, but Izzy’s hand around his wrist stopped him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to help?—”

“Yeah, I did, Isabella. I made a promise the day he was born and the day he was christened. I should’ve never turned my back on that.”

She gazed up at him with dark eyes, full of the same regret Aidan had been drowning in the past two days. “I didn’t give you much choice.”

“Gabe and Tom didn’t give either of us any choice. But we have one now.” He squeezed her hand. “We do what’s best for Angel.”

She squeezed back with a nod. “Thank you.”

Aidan followed Jamie out the door, pulling it shut behind them, and found Rick waiting in the hallway. “I may have something,” he said. “Or maybe someone. Beverly Kildare. She’s a foster kid in the home of Darien White’s sister and a student at Angel’s school. Couple years behind him.”

Aidan checked the list Izzy had given him. Not on there. But worth an ask. He opened the conference room door again. “Izzy?”

She looked up from her phone. “Yeah?”

“Does Angel know a Beverly Kildare?”

“Sure, that’s Bev, his Spanish tutor.”

Aidan couldn’t stop his brow from lifting, and Izzy’s answering laugh felt good. Like the laugh that Christmas Day when Aidan had hauled the rusted-out chassis of a ’66 Chevy truck into their yard. “Boy can speak it, the Spanish you and I know, but ask him to write it for class, and it’s a disaster.”

“I’ll make sure to ask him to write his statement in Spanish,” he said with a wink before closing the door and turning back to Rick and Jamie. “Bev’s his Spanish tutor.”

“I’ll see what else I can find on her,” Rick said, already heading for the bullpen.

“This is good, Irish.” Jamie smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Now I’ve got more to work with. Let’s go see what I can find out from Angel.”

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?”

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