He scowled at me.
Swiveling, I headed for the bedroom to find some clothes. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you come with me.”
“Lark.” His voice was a low growl.
In Bastian’s enormous closet, I pulled on my jeans. Ugh, they had some blood on them, but I could cover that with a shirt. I unbuttoned his white shirt and found one of his black T-shirts on a shelf. I slipped it on, then tied it in a knot at my waist. It would do. I wished I had a bra, but mine was covered in blood. Thankfully, having smaller boobs worked in my favor.
He stomped in, anger throbbing off him. I stalked past him.
Back in the living room, I grabbed my knives and strapped them on.
Bastian returned, dressed now.
I stopped to stare at him.
“What?” he said.
“You’re not wearing a suit.”
“I figured that would attract too much attention at a crime scene.”
The guy was delusional. Bastian Thorne in dark jeans and a blue cashmere sweater that clung to his muscular chest would totally get attention.
I let my gaze run over him. This man had just had his hands and mouth on me.
Don’t get used to it, Lark. Don’t get attached.
I wasn’t that stupid.
“Ready?” I needed to focus on whoever the hell was the second Red Ribbon Killer. The psychopath who was trying to keep Ed’s sick legacy alive.
Because I planned to stop him.
Bastian gave a reluctant shrug. He held up a brown suede jacket. “This is for you. It’s too small for me. I’ve been meaning to have my personal shopper return it.”
Of course he had a personal shopper. I slid my arms into the jacket. It was only a little too big, and boy, it was nice. Nicer than most of my own wardrobe.
I watched Bastian pull on a black leather jacket. “Can I drive one of your fancy cars?”
He arched a brow. “No.” Then his brow creased. “Stay here. Let me deal with this.”
“No, I’m coming.”
The groove in his brow deepened. “Fine. I need to stop by the security office and get some things first. Let’s go.”
Multiple police cars lined the street outside of my apartment building, along with a big crowd of onlookers.
I scanned the crowd. Fear and worry filled many faces, but also a lot of morbid curiosity.
I wondered what it was like to have no intimate knowledge of death. That you were so far removed from it that it made you curious and excited, rather than sick.
“Let’s go around the back,” I said.
Bastian followed me, a small, black backpack slung over one shoulder. We’d stopped at the fancy security office in the lower levels of the Avernus and I’d really wanted to take a good look around. I’d waited while he’d disappeared into a room and came back with the backpack. I was curious to know what was inside.
We circled around the back of the complex. There was a uniformed cop standing by the back gate. I tugged Bastian around the corner of the fence and out of sight of the cop. I heard the squawk of a radio.
“Officer Ramirez, here.” The cop’s voice drifted back to us. He continued talking for a few seconds.
