Page 77 of Captive Audience

That got my attention. I turned down the stereo. “I’m listening.”

“Niall sold a property six months before he died. I followed the paper trail and found the purchaser’s funds came from an offshore account.”

“So?”

“It looked the same as Niall’s other accounts, like copy paste identical. My guess is he created it.”

“Who purchased it, then?”

“As far as I can tell, Niall purchased it from himself but made it look like someone else had. The house is in the name of another shell corp—not one listed in Niall’s assets. It’s layer upon layer of smoke screens, but when you peel it all back, your brother went to a lot of fuss to hide that he owns a single-family home in Chestnut Hill.”

An upper-class neighborhood north of the city. Peaceful. Clean.

“Send me the address,” I said. “And meet me downstairs in ten.”

I turned the car around.

When I rolled in,Asha was already waiting at the basement parking lot, Finn by her side. She wore a pink hoodie over skintight leggings, and her hair was pulled into a low ponytail.

She slipped into the passenger seat of the Bentley, looking both suspicious and impressed.

“This is what you take for a low-key recon?” She buckled her seat belt.

I smirked. “It’s black. That’s as subtle as I get.”

A half hour later we reached our destination. Quiet streets, ivy-wrapped homes, and picket fence perfection. Chestnut Hill was the kind of suburb where neighbors still borrowed sugar and the air smelled like old money.

We parked a few doors down from the address and settled in to see who came and went.

The house we watched was two stories, dark brick with navy shutters and white trim. The front garden was neatly manicured, complete with a white chrysanthemum bush in full bloom and a child’s tricycle parked near the porch.

Asha’s foot tapped the floor. She sipped from one of those giant insulated cups with a handle and watched the house like a hawk.

Two hours later, movement caught our attention. A white SUV pulled into the driveway, and a woman stepped out.

Average height, curvy, with golden-brown skin and long, wavy hair that bounced with each step. Her dress clung in all the right places. Big tits, small waist, killer hips. Not my type, but definitely Niall’s.

She unlocked the front door and slipped inside.

“Did you see that? She smiled and spoke as she walked in,” Asha murmured. “Someone’s home.”

A few minutes later, an older Asian woman came out the front door. The curvy one handed her some cash and waved goodbye with a sunny smile, then closed the door behind her.

“What do you think?” Asha asked, but I was already on my way out of the car.

“Rook—shit—Rook!” She scrambled out behind me. “You can’t just charge up there like you’re kicking in doors on a raid!”

I kept walking.

“She’s going to freak out,” Asha hissed at my side.

“I need to know who she is. And there’s no point sitting here all day just watching, is there?”

We made it to the front porch, and I rang the bell. No answer. I rang again.

Then the door cracked open, and a shotgun met me through the gap.

“Step back!” the woman barked, her Hispanic accent thick, her voice shaking. “Back away or I shoot!”