Interrogating The Stranger
Sam's POV
For probably the first time in my life, my heart raced as I stepped into the interrogation room. My boots echoed against the polished concrete floor, firing into my head like warning shots. Damn hell! I gritted my teeth very hard. A sharp pain ran fast up my jaw, and it ached. How did I get myself into this mess? Why did I let the girls talk me into this doom? What if the bastard had already talked, giving up my name as his alibi? Then I was cooked. Cooked.
“Are you okay, Detective?” Captain James’s voice boomed behind me as he walked in after me. His voice slipped through my thoughts and exploded in my head like a grenade going off in an enclosed space.
I jolted in myself, a shiver running fast up my spine. “I am fine, Captain.” I muttered. Or the damn hell I am not. How could I be fine when my first attempt at being naughty was about to put my career on the line? Why did things have to get this messy on my bloody first time? It was beginner's luck, they called it. Why do I have to experience beginner's misfortune?
I dropped the cold doorknob and moved further into the room.
Rowan Drake A.K.A. the handsome stranger sat on one side of the table, handcuffed and calm. The proud and confident air with which he had walked into the bar yesterday still hung around him like an invisible cloak, even with the slight split at the corner of his lips. Evidence that the cops had been rough.
Though he looked the perfect playboy character, with his chestnut brown hair tousled just like I remembered from last night and his long, extremely handsome face, he also looked like a guy capable of defending himself.
He didn’t flinch when I walked in. Except for the brief knowing sweep his eyes gave me and the flicker of surprise that crossed his amber-hazel orbs, he might as well not have seen me before. He truly was a con artist. The surprise had flashed off his eyes with a speed that could only rival that of the speed of light. If I wasn't staring at him so hard, I would have missed it.
First sign of progress. Perhaps I might escape this in one piece. Thank God he wasn't the kiss-and-tell kind of guy. I decided to treat him as he treated me—with indifference. I sighed, and I shut off my mind from the memories of what those pink lips of his were doing against mine yesterday and the warmth of those lean yet strong arms around me, holding me tight as he thrust… fuck, hell. Focus, Sam. Focus.
I sighed again, heavily now, and I shook off the heat rushing up my stomach. I made a fast visual sweep of the room, mindful of the stale air—too clean, too cold.
The fluorescents above flickered faintly, casting sharp, clinical shadows on the dull gray walls. No windows. No comfort. Just a table and two chairs—one of which sat Rowan Drake. There was a camera in the top corner blinking red like a watchful eye.
I turned to Captain James. “I need five minutes with him. Alone.”
Captain James narrowed his eyes on me. I was no longer in the sheath dress. I was in my usual turtleneck, jacket, and chinos pants. He no longer had anything else to stare at but my face.
“This isn’t how we do things. Detective Sam,” he said, a bit stern.
“I know that. But he hasn't talked to you or anyone yet, though he has been here since morning. If you want me to get him talking, I need to do it my way.”
He looked at me for a long second—a quiet, intimidating kind of silence only older cops knew how to weaponize. I felt my nerves grate against each other as his stare persisted, stretching taut like rubber.
He eventually muttered, “Five minutes. I’ll be right outside.”
I nodded once. “Thank you, sir.” I said, holding my breath.
He left, not slamming the door but definitely shutting it louder than necessary. I waited three beats, then I sighed, hard. I grabbed the chair, my fingers digging hard into its cushioned backrest, my head bowed low, and I panted.
I waited again until I got a grip on my breath and nerves, and I moved to the far wall under the camera. I reached into my coat pocket and casually palmed a small coin from my wallet—a copper washer I kept just for this. I flicked it expertly toward the camera’s blind spot and knocked the feed loose. The red light flickered once, then dimmed. That should get it off for a minute or two, until the tech guys are able to get it on again.
I turned to him then. The handsome stranger that fucked me to oblivion last night, and was about to do the same to my career.
The bastard just smirked. He folded his hands behind his head and reclined on his seat. “Hello, Gorgeous. Seeing how pale you are, I take it you remember me from last night.” He grinned.
I grunted and folded and unfolded my fingers, wishing I could run my fists over his pretty face. But I needed his cooperation. I dropped to sit on the table beside him, turning my head from the camera. Being extra careful. Who knows? The tech guys might have gotten creative. “Don't say a word about me being your alibi,” I said through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low and controlled.
Rowan tilted his head, amused. “That’s the first thing I was going to say. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“If you drag me into this, I will lose everything. I will lose my badge. My career. Help me so I can help you. I know you aren't the killer…”
“I am pretty sure you do, detective.” He smirked, a naughty twinkle lighting up his amber-hazel orbs. “We were moaning around each other at the time the lady’s neck was being slit. What a twist of fate, pleasure blooming just a room away from death. You have to give it to the universe. She is one crazy comedian,” he said smoothly.
My fingers folded tight to fists on my lap. The urge to punch him heated up the whole of me. What happened to chivalry? He’d fucking got me into this mess. He should get me out. I exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “Do not play games with me, Drake. Not here. We can help ourselves without disclosing the fact that we were together.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his cuffs clinking lightly. “You all have got nothing on me but timing and proximity. I walked her to the hotel lobby. She asked for a drink. I said no. I left. That’s the truth.”
“Don't give me that lie, mister. You…”
“Rowan,” he cut me short, filling up with his name even when I didn't ask him to. He reclined on his seat again, resting his head on his arms, grinning with that miserable naughty twinkle in his eyes. “Or you can call me darling. I wouldn't mind. After last night, you earned that privilege, dear.”
His gaze dropped to my fists shivering on my lap, hungry for his blood. And the naughty gleam in his eyes grew. I gnashed my teeth hard against each other, glaring at him. The bastard was toying with me, and I was giving him the upper hand.
I sighed again, shutting my eyes, calming the chaos in my mind. I opened my eyes again, and I forced a smile at him.
“She didn't ask you for a drink, Rowan. She is the governor's daughter. Of course she wants nothing to do with a bum like you.” I said, putting steel in my voice now.
“And that bum is good for you,” he grinned.
I swallowed a huge lump in my throat at that counter. “Last night was a mistake.”
“It sure didn't look like that last night, Detective. If that was you making a mistake, I would love to see you being serious.”
I exhaled hard and loud to quell the heat in my veins. I blinked hard, and I looked to him again. “She didn't ask you for a drink. She was your new target. You were trying to con her. Then you got exposed, and you bounced, only to find another target some streets away: me.”
“My dear, if you were meant to be a target. You wouldn't have had even a dress to wear when you woke up. And you can't prove that I tried to prove that I tried to con Cecilia Rosewood, Governor Rosewood's daughter, just like you can't prove that I was the killer.”
“Don’t you get it?” I snapped, and I jammed my fist on the table, ignoring the echoing noise around the room. “I am not trying to prove that you are the killer…”
His gaze furrowed on me, his eyes freezing me cold. "Then why are you interrogating me?” he demanded.
“To help both of us. Just tell me what you know, Rowan. And I can help both of us.”
He reclined onto his seat, still grinning. His head thrown again over his folded arms behind him. “I don't trust the police, and my lawyer has bailed on me because Governor Rosewood is involved. Your captain also wants to pin this on me. I can see it in his eyes. So I need a lawyer. And you will have to help me get one. Once I get out of here, I will tell you all I know. Until then…” he paused, his eyes lingering on me, as if for dramatic effect. “My lips stay shut, dear.”
The door squealed open right then, and Captain James threw his large weight in. “I hope you have gotten him to talk.” He demanded.