Chapter 22
C assie
“Crazy motherfucker,” I sang along to the music, dancing in my car, my hand in my bag while I rummaged for a hidden packet.
Around me, rain fell in a steady patter, running down my windshield and helpfully concealing me from any passersby on the side road where I’d parked. This afternoon, I’d cruised the city streets for a while before striking gold and now had only a few minutes to do what I needed then book it back to the warehouse.
The song’s chorus repeated, and I adjusted the lyrics for my amusement. “Crazy brother fucker.”
My fingers touched hard-edged plastic, and I extracted my treasure with a flourish. “Got ye. Now to put your arse to work.”
I tore the packet open and examined the small silver disc. Setting it up took a minute, but then I was ready, my red coat’s fluffy hood up and a tube of superglue in my pocket. Taking a breath, I calmed my speeding pulse and went through my plan one more time.
An empty street—check, the rain had done that job for me. No one emerging from the building site ahead yet—check. The workmen tended to finish around four, and I had ten minutes until then. I had the tools to do what I needed to, so there was no more reason to delay.
My phone chimed.
With a huff of annoyance, I checked the screen.
Genevieve: Fifteen minutes, my apartment.
Yeah, yeah. I sent back a thumbs-up, swallowed a fizz of rising excitement, then popped my door. I climbed out into the damp afternoon and advanced on the vehicle parked a few spaces ahead of my car.
Riordan’s matte-black motorbike.
Sitting there, all innocuous and tempting.
As I neared, I uncapped the superglue and squeezed a dollop onto the back of the tracking device then tossed the tube. I had seconds to do this.
My heart beat loud in my ears.
Stooping as if to check my shoe, I reached out and pressed the disc to the underside of the saddle, praying I didn’t knock the bike over. It already had a dent in the bodywork, and it was so pretty, it would be a shame to add another.
“Just a bit longer,” I coached myself.
The counter in my head reached twenty. I released the pressure, tapping the tracker to make sure it stayed. Then my finger grazed over something next to it. Another disc?
What the fuck?
I ducked to peer under the saddle. Right next to mine was another identical disc. Outrage filled me, and I snatched my keys from my pocket, wedging one under to pry it free.
How fucking dare someone track him? I mean, someone other than me. At least I was harmless. Mostly.
The second tracker cracked loose then dropped to the road and rolled into a puddle. For a beat, I stared at it.
“Hey!” a male voice challenged me.
Familiar tones that had featured in my toxic little dreams.
I shot up, stumbling, even though I’d worn trainers in case I needed to run. But I wasn’t fast enough. Riordan grabbed my arm, turning me back to face him.
“What the fuck are you doing to my bike?” He tugged back my hood.
Then stared.
Oh, fucking hell.
I stared right back, a prisoner to the minor inconvenience of an addictive personality and obsession at first sight. At well over six feet tall, and in a very distressed leather jacket, Riordan towered over me, his chocolate-brown hair darkened by the damp, and the green of his eyes intensified by the raindrops on his skin. Totally lickable. I crammed my hand to my mouth so I didn’t say any of that out loud.
Rainwater trickled down my face, and I came back to my senses and snapped my hood back up to cover my curls. “I can’t get my hair wet. It takes forever to get back under control.”
His puzzled expression didn’t change. “Cassie? What are you doing?”
“I…have no explanation.”
“You were touching my bike.”
Shrugging, I pulled my hand from his grip. “Still got nothing. Anyways, I have somewhere to be. See ye.”
I turned to leave, but he grasped my waist.
“Oh no you don’t.”
In a neat move I’d never let escape my imagination, Riordan picked me up and seated me on his motorbike. One slick action like I weighed nothing, with my legs falling into place either side of his saddle. My knees went weak at his flare of dominance. Every word I could have said fled my brain.
“Okay, little red riding hood. This is the second time I’ve seen you here, so either you’re an undercover cop enacting some honeypot plan,” his gaze travelled down my open neckline, “which I’m not objecting to, though for the sake of any wire you’re wearing, I’m not a fucking criminal, or there’s something else going on.”
It was hard to talk around him. My brain fritzed out.
“Something else,” I managed.
He took in my face, roaming over my features, a smirk playing with his lips. “Pity. I was picturing your seduction routine and enjoying it.”
My heart thumped.
He’d flirted with me. Had he? I wasn’t sure, and I lost the power to do anything but gaze back at him like a creep.
“Riordan?” another voice came from the shadowed doorway to a building opposite.
A woman emerged, her lip curled in clear dislike at what she could see. In heels and a minidress that skated dangerously close to popping out either a labia or a boob, she crossed the road.
His girlfriend. I knew her plastic face from a picture I’d found online. Oh shite.
“What the fuck?” she gritted out.
“Why are you here, Moniqua?” he asked.
At his distraction, my brain restarted, and I took the opportunity. Bounced off the bike, then scrambled down the road.
“Stop,” he called after me.
No way. Humiliation crawled through every vein.
Throwing myself into my car, I locked the doors. Riordan reached my handle and yanked at it then swore and thumped the frame.
I gunned the engine and didn’t look back.
What a disaster. My plan had failed spectacularly. Not only was he leaving work early, though now I thought of it, maybe the rain was an issue for working outdoors, but then his honey bunny turned up.
My happy bubble popped.
He was hers again. No way would she accept what she’d just seen without an argument. I knew I wouldn’t.
Not a minute on, and the rev of a motorbike chased me.
A peek in my rearview showed me Riordan, a black helmet I hadn’t noticed covering his face, yet somehow he still gave off menace. I’d pissed him off, undoubtedly.
I put my foot down and sped through town, following the river to the huge red-brick warehouse that sat on the banks on the west side of the city. Beyond, the buildings became industrial, making this the perfect place for Arran to build his empire—the edge of society, with routes into the building that were away from the public eye.
Riordan didn’t quit riding my back bumper.
He didn’t accelerate around me or try to force me to stop, just stuck with me. All the way into the car park, damn him.
I parked badly and flung myself from the car, sprinting to the basement entrance. There was no bouncer here. Only a passcode to get in, which I had neatly memorised. I stabbed in the code, and the door clicked, all too aware that the bike’s engine had cut out and footsteps were thumping the brick path behind me.
I yanked the door open. Slipped into the gap and tugged it closed. My breath left me in a hard rush, as on the other side of the glass panel, Riordan crashed to a halt, his hands landing either side of my head and his gaze connecting with mine, the visor of his helmet up to reveal savage eyes.
Like an idiot, I pressed a kiss to my fingertips and blew it to him, then turned and darted away.
How to Catch a Man by Cassiopeia Archer. Subtitle: A masterclass in getting him to chase you.
Laughing to myself, I took the lift up to the top floor where Genevieve had told me we were meeting, stripped my wet coat because now I was boiling, and knocked on her and Arran’s door. At the same moment, the entrance to Shade’s apartment opened and he and Everly emerged.
I waved a greeting. “You’re back.”
Shade grunted. “Ev lives here now.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Um, congrats? Blink twice if ye need help.”
She laughed, but it was short-lived. “It isn’t Connor I need rescuing from. More on that in a minute.”
Shade, as I couldn’t revise my naming for him to use his real one, scowled. I pulled a face back. How was it that with him, I could act myself, but with the man I actually liked, I turned into a complete freak?
We entered the opposite apartment, and I curled up on the sofa, Genevieve’s fluffy brown cat leaping onto my lap. From my bag, I found my notepad and pen, ready for tonight’s detective work.
Arran gave me a nod in greeting then did the same to Shade and Everly. “Thanks for coming up. We all know another woman was found dead. I’m going to play you the voice message Detective Dickhead left me when I asked for intel.”
Detective Dickhead’s real name was Kenney. None of us used it.
A message played, the voice muffled as if in an attempt to disguise it.
“Yeah, so the basics. Amelia Martin, twenty-three, Canadian, brown hair, small tits, housesitting for the previous two weeks. She’d been picking up work while travelling the UK and Europe and had been here around two months. No known boyfriend or any man she was concerned about, according to her relatives. No history of being a sex worker. From initial analysis, we think she was killed after a break-in on Saturday night but not discovered until the homeowner returned yesterday evening. Her throat was slit, likely where she died based on the blood pattern. Pathologist’s report will come when I get it. Don’t hassle me. Information’s going to be tight on this one. Lot of press interest now there’s three.”
The cop muttered something then came back. “Update me on the list I sent over. The last one is a pain in my ass and I could use the good news.”
The call ended, and Arran set down his phone. His dark eyes roamed over us. “That makes three. Cherry, Natasha, and now Amelia. All within a few weeks, nothing immediately obvious in common between the victims other than being young women.”
Pale, Everly nodded. “Amelia died on Saturday. The night Riordan and Connor came to my house. Riordan told me about the kidnap threat, then Connor brought me here.”
Genevieve watched her. “Oh, right. So that’s the night my brother was there.” She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, our brother.”
Everly gave her a soft smile. “He’s yours, even if he’s my relative, too. I don’t know him, and I don’t want to take anything away from you.”
I did. I wanted to handcuff him and stow his huge frame in the back of my car then steal him away to a secret hideout. Mentally, I tapped my hand. Bad Cassie.
Shade cleared his throat. “As much as I’m no fan of his, I don’t think we need to add him to the suspects’ list.”
Genevieve glowered at him, but he continued.
“But the Four Milers who showed up after, they’re a possibility we hadn’t considered.”
I piped up. “We considered Don, but he’s dead, so that’s a no-go. We also had Red on the list, the gang leader, but what if it’s a tactic of some kind that the whole gang is taking part in? Killing women for some purpose.”
Genevieve angled her head. “Like as a distraction or to destabilise the city? They were trying to catch Everly, so that tracks.” She twisted to face her boyfriend. “How can we find that out?”
Arran rubbed his jaw. “Got to say, it doesn’t fit for me. Red already denied Natasha’s murder. I’m going to call him.”
Genevieve blinked. “You can do that?”
He shrugged. “We might be blood rivals, but occasionally we share information.” He swept his gaze across us all. “Nobody says a word.”
He set his phone on loudspeaker. As it rang, Shade took up Arran’s tablet and searched on it, then he turned the screen to face us right as the call connected.
“Daniels, to what do I owe the pleasure?” a slow voice followed.
The picture Shade had found was the gangster himself, I presumed. It was black and white, which gave the image a more menacing air, and had been taken by an overhead camera, perhaps CCTV. Red was mid-forties, but built, with a gym shirt under a bomber jacket. His dark facial hair ended at a point beneath his chin which, along with his cold smile, was hella demonic. As appearances went, he was selling the gang lord vibe.
Everly’s lips parted, and she leaned in, staring at the phone. I would, too, if this arsehole had ordered my kidnapping.
“Another woman was killed,” Arran said.
“So I heard. One of yours?”
“No.”
Red sucked his teeth. “Not mine either. Speaking of, I hear you’re having trouble keeping hold of people.”
Arran’s and Shade’s gazes met, some smugness in their looks that I’d bet was about Convict.
Arran spoke. “My crew is none of your fucking business.”
“Then get to the point about why you’re disturbing my peaceful afternoon. What do you want?”
Everly raised a hand. Instantly, Shade shook his head, and her shoulders deflated. Well, that was annoying. I imagined she wanted to know why Red was after her. Why shouldn’t she ask?
“Is it one of yours who’s killing women?” Arran asked.
The gang leader chuckled like that was somehow a joke. “No, and frankly I’m insulted that you asked, considering I had the good grace to tell you we didn’t dump that bitch on your doorstep. It’s such a waste of pussy. But if any of yours want better pay, feel free to send them my way.”
The call disconnected.
Arran swore and stomped to the window, staring out for a moment. “I’m issuing an order for all female staff to have escorts to and from work. No risks are to be taken. All women present in this room don’t go out alone. Including you, Cassie. We’ll see what the press comes up with, but is there anything else obvious we can conclude?”
“My father was a hundred miles away that night,” Everly said. “You thought he might be a suspect, right? This exonerates him.”
She was right. I made a note in my notebook, rested on top of the cat.
Shade laced his fingers into hers. “Sorry to say, but it depends on the pathologist’s report. She could’ve died earlier than Kenney estimated.”
I noted that, too. The cat’s rolling purr vibrated on my lap.
Everly gave an embarrassed smile. “True. I’m not sure it would even surprise me now to find that he was on a killing spree.”
“Can I ask why?” Genevieve said gently.
Everly peered at Shade then sighed. “Last night, he sent me on a date with a man who tried to assault me. My own father set me up saying I needed to take one for the team, meaning he knew what this man was and expected me to…service him. I knew my father had little respect for women, but that line is now so far beneath ground, it’s lost.”
My lips parted in horror. “He did that?”
She bobbed her head, sadness in the way she slumped. “I escaped with only scratches, but for a minute, I thought I wasn’t going to be able to get away.”
“I’ll help ye end him,” I said.
She chuffed a laugh. I didn’t.
“Seriously. Why should he walk around freely after doing that?”
“Men do it all the time,” she observed.
“All the more reason to take the worst of them off the streets. Or at least teach them a lesson.”
I sensed someone’s focus on me and found Shade with a watchful stare. Something ticked over in his vision, then he addressed me. “I once went out with Arran and Jamieson.”
Jamieson was the youngest of my four older brothers. He had a thing for burning shite down, occasionally people, too.
I gave Shade a winning smile. “And ye survived the night, go ye.”
He snorted. “You’re more like him than I guessed.”
“Ye mean ye underestimated me because I’m small and a girl?”
“Honestly? Aye, in part, I did. I was wrong.”
I stroked the cat on my lap like a cartoon villain. “Don’t know how ye thought I could escape the crazy in my family. We all came from the same wrinkly old ball sack. One of my earliest memories is of watching my brothers dispose of a body.” I gestured to Everly. “I can teach ye how to handle a blade. I haven’t killed anyone yet, but I can down a man three times my size, pick a lock, and I’m also handy with a lighter. I’m excited at the idea of your attacker being my first.”
Everly gaped. “It’s like I’m friends with the female version of Connor.”
A choked laugh came from Genevieve. “Good for you, Cassie. Why should the boys get all the fun?”
Again, Shade considered me thoughtfully like he was reassessing me.
He was the enforcer here, I knew that from Arran. He killed people. Presumably, he slept well at night, too. I could take a lesson.
Genevieve turned back to Everly. “On the subject of danger, please say you’re staying here?”
“Yep. For now, I’m living with Connor. I’m also taking the rest of the week off work.”
Shade muttered something like, “And never going back.”
I was still stuck on the previous detail. “Who was the man your father set ye up with?”
Everly squirmed. “His name is Piers Roache. He works in finance. My father is courting him for some reason, probably to line his pockets in some way.”
“They’re close?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I only met Piers once before, a year ago, but now he’s staying at our house and my father is bending over backwards for him, so I guess that could be true. Why?”
I tapped my lip with my pen. “Our working theory was that there could be two men. Cherry’s councillor client was bringing along a man she didn’t like.”
“You think it could be Piers?” She considered that then brought her phone from her pocket. “I’ll check his socials and see if he was around when she died.”
As she typed, Shade gestured to Arran. “Look up his name, will ye? I havenae had a chance yet.”
Arran collected the tablet that had showed us Red’s ugly mug and swiped to unlock it. He studied the screen.
“What are ye checking him on?” I asked.
“We have a no-service list that we share with other clubs.”
“The worst of the worst,” I guessed.
Without glancing up, he nodded, and I imagined the violent, abusive scum whom no woman would go near. I’d known Arran for a long time. He was friends with my brothers, and it was my family he’d come to when he needed help setting up the warehouse. We were investors, myself included. All of us defended the line that women had the right to sell their bodies safely.
The more time I spent at the warehouse, the more involved I wanted to be.
“Can I get access to that list?” I asked.
He scrolled. “You could if you needed it, but last I checked, you don’t work here, Cass.” Then he tapped the screen. “Piers Roache. Got him.”
Everly pressed her fingers to her lips. “He’s on your list? For what reason?”
“Known sadist, meaning he enjoys causing pain.” He lifted his head. “He was barred by two London clubs for injuring their workers.”
She shivered. Shade breathed through his nose and held a hand out in a silent request for the tablet. Arran passed it over.
“And this is the man your father picked out for ye,” he muttered.
A moment of quiet played out.
“Well, he sucks,” I commented.
Everly burst out with a laugh that was at least half made of upset. “He really does.”
Shade continued reading. “It says in the notes that Roache was charged with assault but the charges were dropped, presumably because he paid off the women involved. Or threatened them.”
Everly said, “If I work that through, the clean-up from the damage to his reputation could be what he wanted from me and what my father offered up. A respectable and docile little girlfriend.”
Genevieve curled her lip. “That’s gross. On all parts. So Roache isn’t allowed here, but what happens if your father shows up? I saw him downstairs recently.”
Everly nodded. “Ninety-five percent of the time, he gets women sent to him. But you’re right, I don’t want to run into him here.”
“We have alerts set up for him.” Shade took her hand. “Ye willnae run into him by accident.”
“Good. I don’t want him to find out where I am.”
We all looked at Shade.
Everly swung her gaze between us. “What?”
Shade pulled a face. “I wasn’t exactly subtle in bringing ye in last night.”
I choked on a laugh. “If ye mean yelling ‘mine’ with her over your shoulder, yeah.”
Everly’s jaw dropped. “You did that?”
Shade’s satisfied smile was unrepentant. “Not sorry.”
She rolled her eyes, her cheeks pink again after going pale from talking about her attacker. “Then when that filters back to him, he’ll almost certainly come here to get me.”
“And we’ll be waiting,” Shade promised her.
A phone buzzed.
Shade extracted his from his pocket, answering it. “Is he now?” he said after listening to whoever was on the line. He lowered the phone and spoke to us. “Riordan is downstairs. He wants to talk to his sister. Manny didn’t specify which.”
I stiffened, my blood rushing in my ears so I half missed whatever was said next—some gripe from Arran about Shade’s information-sharing capabilities. But then people were moving.
“We need to leave soon,” Shade informed Everly.
“You still haven’t said where we’re going. The message from the policeman said he’d given you a list. Is this to do with that?”
He took both her hands and lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Believe me, the less ye know, the better. All I need is for ye to watch.”
Intriguing, but whatever. The meeting was over, and if Riordan was in the building, I intended to hide.
With a final hug of Genevieve’s cat, I clambered up and stowed my notepad and pen. “If you’re off out, I’ll catch ye later. Everly, the offer is open if ye want to make a plan. It doesn’t have to be a stabby one.”
Then I dove for the door, leaving the apartment with barely another word. Down the hall, the lift light wasn’t illuminated, so I jabbed the button.
“Hurry the flip up,” I urged it.
The stairs entrance slammed open at the same second the lift doors parted.
Riordan appeared with Manny behind him. I stepped into the lift, gave him another cute little wave, then got the hell out of there.