She thought of Dante. Of his nervous fingers and his eyes that could focus on images only he could see. The guy was quiet, shy, and he blushed when he talked about his work. “Dante wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She’d actually seen him capture a fly and release it from his studio.

Layla’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not talking about flies. I’m talking about people.”

Chapter Sixteen

Layla shut the interrogation room door with a soft click.

Mark tensed as he sat at the interrogation room table. “That sure took long enough!” His hands slapped against the top of the table. “Look, I’m here because of Piper. I want to know that she’s all right.”

Layla nodded. “Oh, she’s definitely all right.” She waved her hand toward the one-way mirror on the right wall. “In fact, she’s very close. She’s in there now, watching you.”

And, on the other side of the one-way mirror, Piper winced.

Immediately, Mark’s gaze swung toward her. Or, rather, to the mirror. “Piper?” He jumped to his feet and stumbled toward the mirror.

Piper swore he seemed to be staring straight at her.

“She can hear me? See me?”

“Definitely.” Layla was brisk. “Now, can we get down to business?”

But Mark kept staring at the mirror. “Why is she in there?”

“Because she wanted to hear what you had to say. I want to hear, too. Shall we get things moving?” Impatience bit in her words.

Mark scraped a hand over his jaw. “Heard about what happened to that other guy—Grady. Saw it on the news.”

“Did you know Grady Fox?”

“No, never met him. I knew his name, though. Piper mentioned him a few times.” He kept staring at the mirror.

“We believe that it’s possible someone could be targeting men who were involved with Piper Lane.”

He didn’t blink. “Is that why I’m at the station? You’re warning me I could be in danger?”

“One of the reasons.”

His nostrils flared. A small movement that told of his tension.

“Benjamin Wilde was attacked last night at his home.”

“Ben?” Mark whipped around to face Layla.

Piper eased out the breath that she’d been holding. Mark and Ben had met a few times, even gone out for drinks. They’d gotten along, laughed. Mark had almost convinced Ben to get a tat…

“Is he okay?” Mark demanded.

“I guess that attack didn’t make the news, hmmm?”

His hands fisted. “Is he okay?”

“He’s recovering in the hospital. He has a broken nose, a concussion, and stab wounds. I don’t think okay is the right word, but he’s going to make it.”

“Thank Christ.”

“He was able to fight off his attacker. Able to even stab him with a kitchen knife.” Her gaze slid over Mark. “We believe that Ben’s attacker has a knife wound to his chest area.”