Aidan turned his head sharply, the leather seat creaking with the motion. His brown eyes bore into the girl in the backseat. For the last few minutes, she had stayed stiff and silent, as though hoping he would not press further. He wasn't in the mood to be ignored. His patience wore thin. "Miss," he said, his voice snapping with command, "I asked you a question!"
The sound made Micah's mind snap back to the present. His throat went dry but he forced his tongue across his lips, moistening them before speaking. "Mister, I still don't understand what you are talking about." His voice trembled slightly, acting like a timid, frightened girl.
His lashes lowered just slightly beneath his glasses, hiding his true goal. He was stalling the time long enough for either Clyde finding his whereabouts, or making Aidan doubt himself, thinking he had mistaken him for someone else.
Aidan, oblivious to Micah's plan, insisted on selling himself as a respectable, upright man.
