“Who wants to know?” Javier asked.
The two detectives gave each other confused looks, as if wondering whether Javier was stupid or mentally challenged in some way. They were clearly detectives. A man and a woman with three uniformed officers standing behind them, thumbs hooked into their belts as they glowered at him.
The male detective was in jeans and a black t-shirt, his gun and badge hooked to his belt, his bulletproof vest on full display. He ran a hand over his sweaty bald head before wiping it on his jeans. “I’m Detective Mason. That’s Detective Manning. Are you Javier de la Fuente?”
“Yeah?” Javier asked, offering nothing more.
The man took a step forward. “Can we come in?”
Javier shook his head, giving a slight laugh. “No.”
Mason seemed taken aback by his frank answer. He looked at his partner, a large, muscular black woman in business casual with a shaved head and her own bulletproof vest. She tilted her head like she was already tired of Javier’s shit. “Mr. de la Fuente, we’d like to ask you some questions about the murder of Giancarlo Giordano.”
Javier blinked at her. “Who?”
“Maybe you should ask your boyfriend?” she said, chucking her chin towards his bedroom with a smirk like she was scoring some kind of points.
Javier glanced over his shoulder to see Bowie standing in the doorway in a white tank top and Javier’s black sleep pants. Damn, he looked good. Like they’d just had a lot of sex. Which they had. No denying that.
Javier crooked his finger, beckoning him forward. When Bowie was at his side, he put his arm around his shoulders. “Angel, do you know a Giordano?”
“Yeah, he’s the guy who raped me,” Bowie said, eyes dull, affect flat, jaw thrust forward as he stared down the cops who’d let him down. He was such a badass. God, he loved him.
The thought hit him like a sledgehammer, but he mentally shook it away. He’d unpack that shit later.
“Oh, that guy.” Javier matched Bowie’s look as he peered at the detectives. “The piece of shit rapist. That’s the guy you’re enquiring about, huh?”
Manning shifted her weight, squaring her shoulders. “Mr. de la Fuente—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Sorry. My bad. If you had said scumbag rapist, that might have rung a bell. Or if you’d said the guy who beat my boyfriend until he was unrecognizable. Oh, I know. If you’d said the guy you had dead to rights for rape, assault, battery, and kidnapping but let walk free, then that might have triggered my memory.”
“That wasn’t even our decision,” Mason snapped. “We’re homicide.”
Manning cut her eyes to her partner. “Sir, I understand you’re angry.”
Javier raised a brow before looking at Bowie, giving him a smile. “Do I seem angry to you, angel?”
Bowie examined him for a solid thirty seconds before turning and shaking his head, looking at both detectives. “Nope.”
“If you won’t answer our questions here, we’d like you to come to the station,” Manning said, attempting to hand him her card.
“No, thanks.”
“We can compel you to come in,” she countered. “We don’t have to be nice about it either.”
Javier held his hands in front of him, pressing his wrists together. “Then I guess you should go ahead and do that.” She was reaching for her handcuffs when Javier said, “Before you go to the trouble, you should know that I’m not saying a word here or at the station. If you had shit on me, you’d be arresting me. But you don’t because you’re fishing. The minute you slap those cuffs on me, I’m going to demand my lawyer, Enrique Esposito—I’m sure you know him—and then I’m going to remain silent for the next forty-eight hours while you scramble for something to charge me with. Which you won’t find, because I didn’t do anything. Unless, you guys manufacture evidence as well as let rapists walk free?”
“Don’t you want to make things easier on your boyfriend?” Mason asked, sweat stains appearing under the arms of his t-shirt. Was it this dude’s first day? Why was he so fucking nervous?
Javier looked at Bowie. “You good, angel?”
“Aces,” Bowie said, giving the detectives a tight smile.
Manning was furious, her hands fisted at her sides. “Mr—”
“Are you taking me into custody or not?” Javier asked, cutting the woman off.
The two officers exchanged glances and Javier knew he had them. They didn’t have shit. They weren’t going to risk their case by dragging him in before they had any real evidence, which they’d never find.
