Page 2 of The King's Boy

Malloy snorted loudly. "This guy is fucking with us."

I was getting the same feeling.

I was also getting tired of this. I walked over and opened the door between the observation room and the interrogation room and walked in.

"Whoa, mama." Spencer let out a slow whistle as he looked me up and down. "Is it my birthday and everyone forgot to tell me?" He leaned forward and batted his long eyelashes at me. "Hi, sexy, come here often?"

I slowly panned to look at the guard. Had he heard the same thing I had?

The dropped jaw said yes.

I was being flirted with—I think—by the guy we were interrogating. Weirder things had happened to me in my life, but not many.

"How did you get the bag, Mr. Murray?"

Spencer set his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and then rested his chin on them before fluttering his eyelashes at me. "Call me Spencer."

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at Spencer with my most intimidating glare I could muster. "How did you get the bag, Mr. Murray?" I asked again.

Spencer's eyes rolled as he leaned back in his chair and huffed. "Boring."

"Answer the question, Mr. Murray."

"Darren let me crash on his couch for a few days. He said he had to go to a meeting today, but he needed this bag dropped off with a friend. He asked me if I could do it for him and I said yes. I had no reason to say no, you know. He had let me crash on his couch after all."

Strangely enough, I believed him.

"And you never looked in the bag?"

Spencer's head snapped back. "No," he said in an offended tone. "Why would I?"

I face-palmed for a moment.

"You never agree to accept or deliver a bag without knowing exactly what is in it," I said after raising my head to look at him. "That's how you get into trouble."

Spencer snorted. "That's not how I get into trouble."

I didn't want to know.

Well, I sort of did, but I wasn't going to ask.

"I need to know exactly where Darren lives."

"Why?" Spencer asked. "You have the bag already. Why do you need to know where he lives?"

Was this guy an idiot?

"Because I need to know where he got it, who he was sending it to, and what they planned to do with it."

Spencer's eyes narrowed and he looked serious for the first time since he stepped into the room. "What was inside the bag?"

"Drugs, Mr. Murray. Enough pure, uncut Fentanyl powder to make thousands of pills."

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment before he started relaying information at a fast clip—Darren's home address, his work, his phone number, and even places that he liked to hang out. Spencer spilled it all, not stopping for nearly ten minutes.

"You seem awfully cooperative all of a sudden, Mr. Murray. Why is that?"

"I don't like drugs," Spencer replied. "I can get my high in other ways." He smirked as he looked me up and down again. I felt almost naked. "Wanna learn how, handsome?"

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