Page 83 of Captive Audience
“You’ll drive yourself crazy overthinking this. Niall had his reasons. Try not to take it personally.”
Finn met us in a black Escalade and loaded it full of Catalina and Niall’s things: stroller, travel crib, diapers, bottles, boxes of toys, suitcases full of clothes. Not knowing how long they’d be away from home, Catalina wanted to be prepared, but man, kids needed a lot of stuff.
They followed us back to the LynchContinental, where we settled them into Torin’s penthouse apartment. It was similar to Rook’s but on steroids. Covering the top two floors of the building, it had a grand staircase, a double-height ceiling in the living area, a swimming pool on the enormous terrace, and a helipad up top. There were also eight staff members who ran the residence—butler, private chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, and four security guards—two for each floor.
For now, everyone was safe.
And with the information we’d gleaned from Catalina, Rook and I were invigorated with fresh hope.
Time to catch a killer.
34
ASHA
Over the following days, Rook and I fell into an easy routine.
He stayed out late most nights, hunting for Los Cuervos members to interrogate about the Soul Collector. Sometimes, he came home with red knuckles and blood under his fingernails, smelling of other people’s sweat and filth. The weariness in his eyes never failed to make my chest ache.
I asked if it was dangerous talking to Los Cuervos. Wouldn’t they tell the Soul Collector he was on to them?
Rook said we didn’t need to worry. Dead men told no tales.
I kept busy poring over the details of Niall’s murder. I went through his room again. I spoke with Catalina. I trawled through more security footage, old financial records, phone logs, and any scrap of data that might help me uncover the identity of the Soul Collector.
I found nothing.
I notched out some time to work on Sierra’s case, but with little to fatten out a full episode ofCaptive Audience, I revisited a similar case I’d investigated a few years ago. The runaway had been taken in by a cult, brainwashed, and abused. She’d been pregnant by fourteen and dead at twenty. I needed my listeners to understand why I hadn’t given up hope of finding Sierra. She could still be alive and in desperate need of help.
When Rook and I went to bed each night, he stayed on his sideof the mattress. He never touched me and was always gone when I woke the next day.
And, as my nemesis had annoyingly predicted, my period arrived, then finished four days later.
On the sixth night, Rook got home early enough to have dinner together. After we’d put away the dishes, he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Wanna watch a movie?”
I blinked. “Like, together?”
“No, love. Me on the helipad, you on the sofa. Of course, together.”
I eyed him skeptically. “What movie?”
“Your pick. You have until I get out of the shower to decide.” He left the room without waiting for my response.
Since it wouldn’t be a movie without snacks, I tossed a packet of popcorn into the microwave and poured M&M’s into a bowl.
My phone chimed with a text from Daisy. I was supposed to catch up with her and Beth, and I still hadn’t found the courage to tell them I couldn’t make it. I’d already blown them off once, telling them I was busy with work. There were only so many times I could use that excuse before they’d show up at my empty apartment and demand answers.
I flicked through the streaming options and landed onPitch Perfect. Safe, funny, zero sex scenes. I didn’t need that awkwardness with Rook seated beside me.
If he hated my choice, too bad for him.
Rook emerged ten minutes later, barefoot, shirtless, and more tempting than a margarita after a hellish week. Seriously, where did he get muscles like that? He must go to a gym during the day, because the heaviest thing he’d lifted around here was me.
Water clung to his hair. A stray droplet slid past his navel, disappearing into the waistband of those low-slung gray sweats.
My gaze shot up to meet Rook’s. He caught me with a knowing smirk.
“Did you forget how clothes work?” I asked.
