“All we have on him is a video of his truck driving by Todd’s house. We have no evidence that Shane did anything wrong.”
“He doesn’t know that. But I wouldn’t focus on what he did anyway. Concentrate your questions on Dylan. As you said, we have no real evidence against Shane. But we know he was near the scene, so it’s reasonable to question him about what he might have seen.”
“OK.” Matt stood and cracked his neck. She watched him assume an arrogant persona like a Halloween costume as he went out the door.
Bree slid into the chair facing the monitor and turned up the volume. Matt swaggered into the interview room. He stood, looming over the table—and Shane—for a split second. Once his dominance was established, Matt introduced himself to Shane and extended a hand. “Thank you for cooperating.”
Shane nodded, enthusiasm warring with his anxiety. “The deputy said you needed help solving a crime.”
“Yes.” Instead of taking the chair across from Shane, Matt rounded the table and perched on the corner of the table. Not only did he maintain physical command, but he encroached on Shane’s personal space. Matt pushed right through a socially acceptable boundary as if he were entitled to do so. He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t apologize. He took up space as if that were his right and established himself as alpha.
Shane didn’t protest. He accepted Matt’s superiority like an eager puppy.
“What’s up?” Shane’s voice begged for approval. “How can I help?”
“Well, here’s the thing.” Matt shook his head. “I hate to even ask. It feels wrong, but I need some info on a pal of yours. He’s in deep trouble.”
Shane sat up straighter. “Who?”
Matt’s mouth tightened, as if what he was about to do were distasteful. “Brian Dylan.”
Shane’s shoulders shifted backward an inch as caution crept into his interest.
Matt held up a hand, and his voice oozed with understanding. “I know. He’s your buddy. I have buddies too, and I wouldn’t want to give them up for anything.”
Shane nodded hard.
“But here’s the thing. Dylan has been going off lately. Some of the shit he’s done . . .” Matt paused, again conveying his discomfort with the topic. “I’m sure you’ve seen it too.”
Shane bobbed his head. “He’s been weird. That’s for sure.”
“I want to talk to him before he goes completely off the rails.” Matt hesitated for emphasis. “Before he does something that he can’t come back from.”
Shane frowned. His head inclined just a touch, agreeing with Matt without speaking.
“Any idea what’s up with him?” Matt asked. “I’m worried. Me and Dylan worked together for years.”
“You were tight?” Shane’s chin lifted.
“Oh, yeah,” Matt lied without hesitation.
“He never mentioned you.”
Matt shrugged. “Haven’t seen him lately. I was out of action for a while. Got shot.” He lifted his hand and pointed to the puckered scar in his palm, then raised the hem of his shirt and turned his upper body to show where the bullet had hit him in the back. With his heavily muscled and scarred torso, no one looked more badass than a bare-chested Matt.
Shane’s eyes bugged. “Shit.” His voice vibrated with awe.
“It happens.” Matt shrugged off the injuries. “Part of the job.”
Bree shifted in her chair. As impatient as she was for Matt to get to the meat of the interview, she respected his ability to gauge the suspect and not rush the process. They wouldn’t get another opportunity. Once Shane realized he was in trouble, he’d stop talking.
“Back to Dylan.” Matt dropped the hem of his shirt as if his wounds weren’t important. “What’s up with him?”
Shane shook his head. “He’s been weird ever since he hooked up with that bitch.”
Matt nodded knowingly.
“She fucking ruined everything.” Shane sulked, scraping the toe of his sneaker on the floor. “Hardly seen Dylan since she’s been in the picture.”
“I hear ya. Bros before hoes, am I right, my man?” Matt extended a closed fist.
With a vigorous nod, Shane bumped it. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t hate all women. Just those stuck-up bitches.”
“Right,” Matt agreed. “What’s this bitch’s name?”
“I don’t know. We weren’t introduced.” Resentment edged into Shane’s tone.
“What’d she look like?”
“I didn’t see her face. She was wearing a hat, and I only saw her from a distance.”
“Can you tell me anything about her?”
Shane’s brow dropped as he concentrated. “Older lady, but in good shape for her age. She’s got a nice set of tits on her.”
Matt grinned. “That explains Dylan’s lapses in judgment.”
Shane chuckled. “I guess it does.”
“But seriously, I’m worried about him.” Matt flattened his lips and exhaled through his nose. “I heard a rumor that he got himself into some trouble last night.”
Shane stiffened.
Matt leveled a stern gaze at Shane. “Do you know anything about that?”
Uncomfortable, Shane scooted his butt in his chair.
“Dude . . .” Matt lifted both hands in a really? gesture. “I thought you were going to help me help Dylan.” He started to turn away. “I guess I was wrong.”
Bree recognized the movement for what it was: dismissal—disapproval—of Shane.
Shane, still seeking validation, leaned forward, as if trying to maintain the connection to Matt. “No. Wait.” He licked his lips. “I was with him last night.”
Matt settled back down, reestablishing the connection, but his shoulders were tilted back, maintaining a slight distance, as if Shane would have to work to regain his approval.
A few beads of sweat broke out on Shane’s forehead. “Dylan called me last night. He asked me to help him teach a guy a lesson.”
“So you said yes,” Matt said in a like anyone would tone.
“Yeah.” Dylan glanced away for a second. In the center of his chest, his shirt darkened with sweat. “Me and a few other guys.”
Matt waited.
“We met at Dylan’s place, then drove over to this other dude’s,” Shane said vaguely.
“Do you remember the address?” Matt asked.
Shane tugged at the collar of his shirt. Sweat rings had formed under his arms and across his chest. He looked like he’d run a 5K through the tropics. He gave the name of Todd’s road.
“Did you know the guy you were supposed to school?”
Shane shook his head. “Dylan called him Harvey.”
“Who else was there?” Matt asked.
Shane dried his palms on his thighs and rattled off a few names.
Bree wrote them down. Fury simmered hot in her veins. Five. It had taken five men to take down Todd. How was Matt keeping his cool?
“What happened?” he asked in a casual voice.
“We roughed him up a little.” Shane evaded Matt’s gaze and shifted his body position again.
“That’s it? You just smacked him around a few times and left?” Matt’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe that for a second.
Shane slid his ass across the seat. “Well, that was the plan, but the dude fought back fierce. Did some damage to Johnny’s knee, and Fox’s eye was a fucking mess.”
Matt let the silence drag out until Shane had to fill it.
“We were gonna just leave the dude there, but Dylan changed his mind. He was pissed the guy fought so hard. So he made us carry him to the truck and toss him in the back.”
“Your truck?”
Shane stared at his feet.
“We have your truck on video,” Matt said.
“Yeah. My truck,” Shane admitted.
“Then where did you go?” Matt pressed.
“Back to Dylan’s house.”
“Was Dylan’s new bitch there?” Matt asked.
Shane nodded. “Dylan went into the house, and we could all hear her yelling at him. She kept calling him stupid.” His face twisted in raw hatred, and the ugliness of it took Bree by surprise.
To give Matt credit, he didn’t respond at all.
Shane continued. “I don’t care how hot she is, no piece of pussy is worth putting up with that behavior. Bitches need to know their place.” His eyes narrowed into hostile slits. “Dylan put a stop to it, though. I heard the slap from the driveway.” Pleasure glimmered in his face.
Bree’s stomach turned.
Matt didn’t seem to notice. “Did any other guys stay?”