Page 152 of White Raven
It wasn’t the wind.
Wasn’t the clanging of branches against the building…or the window.
It wasn’t the sound of footsteps coming in to catch them red-handed, though he suddenly wished it were.
It wastelltale…
It was chilling…
It was the sound…the beating…of his hideous heart.
CHAPTER 30
AFTERMATH
Boston was a whirlwind of salivating press, wild theories, news reports that couldn’t be farther from the truth, and a precinct full of downtrodden, and exhausted cops that were constantly fighting off the vultures plaguing the front of the building, demanding answers. Foster had assured them all that she and her team had it under control, and that Foley’s body was being carefully prepared, and meticulously cared for. She’d practically begged the band of misfits to take a few days and shut themselves up from the world…take the time they needed to try and rest. To try and come to terms with the hardest reality…Malcolm Foley was dead.
Brent pulled a mystery casserole from his top-notch oven—an oven he rarely used, even though he knew how. He’d diced up chicken breast, added a can of this, a pack of that, a block of cream cheese, and a bag of frozen vegetables. Voila. Dinner for four. He opened his doors to Rhaena and Brandon and snatched Wren’s obese cat from her apartment. That building had been nothing but a bloody reminder of what had happened, and it didn’t sit well that they’d be haunted by it all anyway…but to try andlivein it would be thousands more dollars in therapy. It was unnecessary. He’d had the space. He fixed up the guest room downstairs that had never even been slept in before, stopped and picked up cat food, and beer, and tried his best to make sure they all felt at home.
Leigh took it upon herself to include her name in the lucky draw, and was laying on her side on his couch, staring at the TV, but not actually watching it. It hadn’t taken muchconvincing from him to get any of them up here. Rhaena had barely left the guest room in two days. Brandon joined him for sports updates, clinking beers with him, and Wren…
Wren had been a pillar of strength, surprising all of them. It was like a switch was flipped, and she refused to cower back into the black hole of despair that she’d been in after the incident with his father. She wasn’t going to let any of them fall into it either.
“That smells good as fuck,” she clipped, rounding the bottom of the stairs, and peering over his shoulder as he closed the oven and set the dish on the stove. “Yeah, I’m not eating that without a slutty layer of cheese, Stratford.”
Brent snorted over his shoulder, nipping the tip of her nose. “Slutty?”
“You heard me. Thick, greasy…like a high dollar stripper.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “Where the fuck does that come from, Vintorri?”
She popped his ass as she made her way over to the living room to sit on Leigh’s outstretched legs. “Green’s an ugly color, Brent! Nobody likes peas, by the way.” Leigh oofed as Wren plopped down, unforgivingly onto her, and he chuckled through his nose.
“Peas aren’t bad,” Rhaena croaked sadly, rustling her damp hair as she trudged out of the spare bedroom. “Just…don’t buy canned peas.”
“I consider that sacrilege,” Brent smiled, offering her a bottle of water as he pulled a bag of shredded cheese from the fridge. Rhaena took it and snapped it open. Brent started sprinkling cheese over the dish. The redhead cleared her throat from the living room, and he looked over to see her making a shaking gesture with her hand. He rolled his eyes and dumpedthe entire bag onto it, earning a thumbs up and a nod from his very happy ginger. “Where’s Jenkins?”
Rhaena swallowed down her water and pointed the bottle towards the bedroom. “Using the last of the hot water. Sorry.”
“It doesn’t run out in this building,” he grinned, glancing at Wren.
“Fancy, rich-boy privilege, Rhae!”
“Still pretending you don’t love it, I see.” He barely dodged the remote as it flew straight for his face. It got a smile out of Rhaena…one nobody thought they were gonna see for a while. “We’re gonna make it, Northwood. Bet your ass,” Brent said, shoving the dish back into the oven to melt cheese that wouldabsolutelywreck their stomachs. Rhaena glanced around, her eyes stopping on the floor-to-ceiling windows across the living room.
“Cap was gonna buy this place?”
Brent followed her line of sight, and then leaned against the counter to face her. “I think so. He reminded me about it pretty often. Often enough that I decided not to list it. I was ready to make a private sale.”
“Still gonna sell it?” she asked, taking another long pull of her water.
Brent shrugged, “Maybe.” Wren tossed him a look. “Still uh…mulling that over.” He tried to tread carefully, but it had already been forty-eight hours since the chaos at her apartment. “No word from Sykes?” A fluff of pink hair ruffled over the arm of the couch, and Rhaena raised her eyes. He shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have, if for no other reason than what he’d seen her turn into twice.
“None. And I know that everybody wants to know, but…I’d appreciate it if you don’t ask.” She directed her statement ateveryone. Pointedly at Leigh, who laid her head back down in shame.
The door buzzed, and every head turned. Brent excused himself to go answer it. He wasn’t prepared—none of them were—for who was on the other side of the door.
“Well…this is a strange turn of events,” Sarah smirked, crossing her arms as she stood next to Kane. “Playing house with everyone now, are we?” Kane cocked his head to the side and smiled.
