His gaze ran over my face, those amber eyes warm. “Yeah. I see that.”
Heat moved into my cheeks, so I turned back to the glass.
As if he knew, Aiden looked up, his gaze meeting mine directly. My breath caught. There was no way he could see me, but I swear, he looked right at me. Heat, the super lava hot kind, exploded in my abdomen.
The door opened, and Detective Pierce strode inside the interrogation room with a lumbering, square-shaped guy the size of a small tree wearing a DEA jacket. I straightened.
“This is interesting,” Nick murmured.
Pierce slapped a case file down on the table and drew out a chair while his buddy did the same. “This is DEA Agent Frank Zimmerman, and he’s pretty interested in talking to you, Devlin.”
Aiden smirked and looked from Pierce to Zimmerman and back. “So the state and feds are working together for once. I feel like I’m bringing people together here.”
“Yeah. You’re a real unifier,” Zimmerman muttered, sounding like he smoked three packs a day.
“I am trying to get into heaven one day,” Aiden agreed, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table.
Pierce quickly read through Aiden’s rights. “Understand?”
“Yep,” Aiden said, not requesting a lawyer.
Why the heck wasn’t he asking for a lawyer? I chewed on my bottom lip.
“How did you know Scot Peterson?” Pierce asked.
Aiden kept drumming. “Scot Peterson was the prosecuting attorney of the county, and he filed charges against me for drug possession and intent to distribute.” Aiden’s chin lowered. “Drugs and guns were found in an apartment complex owned by the Lordes but not in my personal space there. However, truth and facts didn’t seem to matter to your prosecuting attorney. Rumor has it that he is now deceased.”
I shivered.
Pierce’s head lifted. “You knew Scot outside of your criminal case.”
Aiden’s eyebrows lifted. “I did?”
“Yes.” Pierce flipped open the cover of the file and slid several pictures across the wooden table. “You and Scot at the marina. Here at the park. And here…at what looks like a Lorde’s party.”
If Aiden was surprised by the pictures, he didn’t show it. Not a bit. His brows drew down. “Yeah. I think he was following me. Stalking me, maybe.” One by one, Aiden slid the photos back with his index finger. “It’s too bad you don’t have recordings. Then you’d know what he wanted from me.” He shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Nick shifted his weight next to me. “He’s not fazed in the slightest.”
No. The hot-headed kid I’d known had grown into an ice-cold adult. Aiden glanced at Zimmerman. “That all you got?”
Pierce leaned forward, drawing his attention. “Not even close. We have a very pretty grey-eyed deputy prosecutor who found this picture.” He pushed one across again. “Of you with Melvin Whitaker, behind two kids who are now dead. The sweet lawyer also talked to Whitaker’s neighbors and discovered you’d visited a few times.”
“Damn it,” Nick snapped.
I blinked. “What?”
“He just put your neck out there.” Fury vibrated low in Nick’s tone. “I’m going to kick his ass.”
Pierce went for the kill. “I believe you know my deputy prosecutor.”
Aiden’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Not even close. His fingers stopped tapping, and he leaned forward this time. “She’s nowhere near yours, Pierce. She never will be.”
I blinked. What was happening?
“Ah, crap,” Nick muttered.
I turned toward him. “I don’t understand.”
