Page 27 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“Yes, well, I don’t rule out a suspect completely unless I have solid evidence that proves otherwise.”

“Ugh. You are so…Ugh!”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“It’s not funny!” I roared.

“Good thing you like me, sugar, because that actually hurt.”

“I don’t like you! And you’re lucky I’m not one of those lambs you mentioned. Because then I would absolutely fucking rip your face off right now.”

“Good thing.”

I pressed my lips together, turning to face forward again, only so I didn’t have to look at his dumb stupid ridiculous face anymore. I couldn’t believe him—this. That he carried even a shred of suspicion toward me after last night and this morning.

My anger quickly abated, though.

Peter Gains was…dead. It didn’t feel real. I thought about all the cookies I’d baked him. Thought about his cute cat I borrowed when I needed something to cuddle. Oh, shit. I still needed to call Vivi—to tell her.

I picked up my phone. A hand shot out and wrapped around mine, around my phone. “I wouldn’t do that right now. This is a federal investigation. You should refrain from contacting anyone, especially on this phone. If it’s hacked or tracked, and even if it isn’t…”

His words slid right out of my mind. I looked down at his hand, covering mine. Gaped at it like an idiot. At the warmth that seeped through his skin. The way it instantly calmed me to have his touch.

He sighed, then squeezed. When he pulled away, I instantly missed his touch.

“Just hang tight, sugar. We’ll figure things out.” His voice was softer this time. Maybe he could see the tears blurring my eyes. Or sense my growing distress.

“What did they do to my apartment?” I whispered. Only just now remembering he’d mentioned that it was trashed.

He didn’t answer.

My breaths were shaky as I climbed out of Bastian’s truck. The entire street had been closed off, only letting cleared personnel in or out. Bastian had flashed some sort of identification that got us through. I shut the door behind me and gaped at the swarm of uniformed people going in and out of Glenneg Complex, my six-story apartment flat in the heart of West Cross. Two blocks down, if I squinted, I could make out the sign for Awake Coffee.

“Here, put this on.” Bastian draped a heavy leather jacket around my shoulders, probably summoned from thin air. It smelled like him, like the cologne he wore, which immediately comforted my nerves. I pulled it around me and clenched it in my fists, using it as an anchor.

“Rose?” A voice to my right had me spinning. In a huddle of wide-eyed watchers, Candice was staring at me.

The others nearby heard my name and turned. I was acquainted with about half the people in my apartment building. We did mixers on the roof sometimes, that sort of thing. “Thank God you’re okay,” Candice said, rushing over. She threw her arms around me and pulled me tight.

“Hey, Candice. I’m good,” I mumbled into her shoulder. She was on the taller side, and curvy. “Vivi’s out of town so she’s fine, too,” I added.

Candice lived on the floor below ours.

“I heard someone moving around upstairs,” she explained. “I thought you’d come home from work—pissed off or something, by the sound of all the destruction happening. Didn’t put two and two together. I should have texted you.” That wouldn’t have made any difference, but I didn’t say so. “They’re saying Peter was murdered,” she whispered, holding my shoulders to inspect me. I felt Bastian hovering nearby, heard the hushed murmur of his voice talking to someone. “Can you believe it? In our own apartment building? I thought West Cross was supposed to be safe.” Her rich beige skin was pale, dark eyes searching mine. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to move, though. After this, after what happened to your…” She trailed off, eyes darting behind me and widening briefly.

A large, heavy hand fell comfortably on my shoulder.

“Wow…” she whispered as she took in Bastian. A flush rose to her cheeks. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, right. Candice, Bastian. Bastian, Candice.” I turned to better see him, dislodging his hand in the process. “Candice lives in the apartment below mine.”

“I see.” Bastian’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “Did you already give your statement?”

“Yep,” she nodded, squaring her shoulders. “Told them what I told Rose. Thought she’d come home pissed, was banging around and making a ruckus upstairs about three in the morning. Woke my ass up. Should have texted her, but figured she’d had a rough night…working at Vortex and all.”

Bastian made a humming noise in the back of his throat, then nodded. Leaning close, too close, his lips brushed the shell of my ear and he spoke in a low voice. “You’ve been given clearance to enter. You ready?”

I shivered. But not because I was afraid of what came next. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “Right. Let’s go.”