Page 3 of Captive Audience

“Brandon’s team found an Albanian working with Los Cuervos Cartel in Jalisco. Besnik Shehu. You know him?”

“Aye.” I vaguely remembered him as short, mid-forties, with a weathered face. Ran weapons for the Albanians.

“They interrogated him. Turns out that before our trouble with them, an outsider was pulling the Albanians’ strings. Shehu claims this guy made big promises if they did his bidding. The first thing he ordered was Niall’s hit.”

My pulse hammered, and my lungs locked tight as the edges of my vision darkened. Two years I’d grieved Niall, my only solace that I’d avenged him, but the bastard who’d planned it all still breathed. I’d failed my brother twice.

“Who?” I demanded.

“Shehu only called him the Soul Collector.”

“What the fuck kind of name is that?”

Tor grunted. “The kind that’s making a statement. I’m just not sure what it is yet.”

I swallowed down the fury that clawed at my throat. “I’ll find him.”

I’d tear this city apart piece by piece if I had to, then I’d gut the son of a bitch and hang his corpse from the Ben Franklin Bridge by the entrails. Let Philly’s underworld know what happened if they crossed us.

After a loaded pause, Torin said, “No, you won’t. I can’t have you killing everyone you question. You’re too emotional to tackle this objectively.”

“Too emotional?” A muscle twitched at the corner of my eye. “The person who had my brother killed is still breathing and, for all I know, living a blessed life. Tell me, Tor, how the fuck is that supposed to make me feel?”

“And you have every right to want vengeance. But we can’t have bodies littering the streets if you don’t get the answers you want.”

I sneered. “Would that be so bad?”

I wasn’t a patient person. I was a man who got what he wanted when he wanted it. Especially revenge.

“It won’t bring him back, Rook.”

My chest burned as if a knife pierced my lungs, reopening old wounds that had never fully healed.

I was the one who’d gotten my little brother involved with the Beasts. I should’ve been here to watch over him, to keep him safe.

“Fine.” I gritted my teeth. “I promise to keep the body count to a minimum.”

“Like when you stepped off the airplane from Belfast? Rook, searching for Zeqiri you killed three Albanians and put two more in intensive care.”

“They weren’t cooperating.”

“Do they ever?” Tor let the silence hang heavy before letting out a weary sigh. “We all miss Niall, and I want payback as much as you. But we need to be smart about finding this…Soul Collector. Discreet. We can’t assume anyone is in the clear. Not even our own. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He thought we might have a rat. It wasn’t a crazy suggestion. It’d happened before.

I dragged my hands through my hair. “If not me, then who’s going to find the bastard?”

“I want fresh eyes on this, someone with a sharp mind and no biases. Bring in a third party.”

I stopped pacing. Blinked. “I’m sorry. Did you just ask me to involve an outsider in highly sensitive Beasts business?”

Tor had lost the fucking plot.

“Aye. Like I said. Apart from you, Aidan, and Orla, we don’t know who we can trust. Besides, I’ve seen you keep hard-arse criminals in line. I’m sure you can convince a PI to behave and keep his mouth shut.”

Just fucking grand. I’d have to babysit some useless shite while he poked around in my business, asking dumb questions.

Movement on the wall of screens caught my attention. Asha crossed her living room to fill a glass with water.