Chapter 22 Rook
ROOK
My driver collected us from the front of the station in the town car. When he closed the rear door behind me, Asha slid to the far side and folded her arms.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I hate you.”
Her declaration was neither surprising nor unwarranted. But if her ire motivated her to find the Soul Collector faster so she could be rid of me, maybe it was a good thing. “Wow. It’s like we’ve been married for years.”
“Oh, shut up,” she spat.
“I assume your stint behind bars gave you sufficient time to accept your situation.”
Asha fiddled with the gold band around her finger. “It gave me sufficient time to plot your death.”
“For someone who spends so much time solving violent crimes, you seem hell-bent on committing your own.” The town car merged into the afternoon traffic toward my apartment. “We don’t have to like each other to work together.”
“No, but it’d be easier if I didn’t want to vomit every time I look at you.”
Ouch.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Our apartment.”
“Ours?”
“Aye, Wife. What’s mine is yours. That’s how marriage works.”
“How a real marriage works. You know, like when both parties enter it willingly.” She exhaled a sharp breath. “I’m not going to live with you. You told me I wasn’t a hostage.”
“Hostages don’t beg their captor to free them from jail.”
Asha’s expression turned vicious.
“You’ll agree to live with me, but if you’d like more time to think about it, I’ll take you back to Officer Petty.”
She snorted. “Totally not a hostage.”
“And if you’re struggling with the idea of us being married, think of our relationship as more of a boss-employee dynamic.”
“Yeah? Well, someone needs to tell HR that your motivational methods are bullshit.”
“Here. Maybe this will improve your mood.” I picked up the brown paper bag from the footwell.
Asha’s eyes darted to it. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast sandwich from Bob’s.” Her favorite treat after pulling an all-nighter on the podcast.
She whimpered and licked her lips but didn’t take the bag. “This feels like a bribe.”
“It’s more of a peace offering.” I held the food out. “Please, Asha. I can hear your stomach trying to eat itself from here.”
She hesitated, then snatched the bag from my hand as if I might change my mind. She pulled out the wrapped sandwich, ripped it open, and took a bite so fast I almost felt bad for leaving her in jail so long.
“You’re staying with me for a reason. This investigation is dangerous. I can’t protect you if you’re at your apartment.”
She answered with a muffled snort around her second bite. “And who will protect me from you?”
“Come on, pet. You know I’m not going to hurt you. The fact that you’re furious with me instead of scared proves that.”
“That’s what I don’t get. The marriage thing confuses me. Why didn’t you go with the typical bad-guy method and threaten to hurt my friends and family to get what you wanted?”
“Would you prefer for me to threaten your friends and family?”
She gasped, the sandwich frozen halfway to her mouth. “Of course not.”
“Then we’ll stick with my way, aye? I think the prospect of being stuck with someone you despise is incentive to get the job done quickly. And it’s not like I’m asking you to commit a crime, Asha. I just need you to solve one.”
She held my stare but refrained from saying the words I wanted to hear, that she’d approach her task willingly. Despite manipulating her into this situation, I’d hoped I could convince her my cause was worthy so I didn’t have to fight her every step of the way.
Although I had to admit that sparring with Asha was starting to feel like foreplay.
I rested my hands on my thighs. “My apartment has enhanced security. You won’t find anywhere safer. And if you need to leave for any reason, one of my men will escort you.”
She rolled her eyes. “A Mob babysitter. Great.”
“Not a babysitter. A bodyguard. And when I say my men would take a bullet for you, I’m not exaggerating.”
Asha paused mid-chew, then swallowed her mouthful. A flicker of fear passed across her features—true fear—because this wasn’t an episode of her podcast. It was her life.
“It’s no secret Altin Zeqiri murdered your brother. You got your payback. Someone from the Beasts of Belfast killed him.” She licked the corner of her mouth.
“Not someone. Me.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. You shouldn’t tell me that.”
“Why? Who are you going to snitch to? The PPD? Should we go back so they can take your statement?”
She let out a defeated sigh.
“Zeqiri pulled the trigger, but this…Soul Collector gave the order. That’s who I need you to find.”
Asha took another bite and chewed slowly, like the weight of my words made the food taste different.
“What do you know about this guy?”
“Not much more than you. I know he’s not Albanian. Most likely rich, powerful, clever. I’ve been urged not to make my own inquiries in case I get too reckless with my questioning.”
“By reckless, you mean murdery?”
I took it as a rhetorical question and didn’t bother answering. “You’ve already started digging,” I said quietly. “I’m glad.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “The digging was for me. Not you. And for the record, I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You will.”
Because whether she liked it or not, this case had already become hers.