“Good idea. I’ll swing by there tomorrow to keep from frightening passing children.”
Sean turned to look through the sliders into the house. “Where’s Broch?”
“He’s behind me somewhere. I told him he had to wear trunks in the pool. He might be pouting.”
Sean laughed. “Probably a good habit to start.”
She sat in the chair opposite Sean and stole a sip of his whiskey. He arched an eyebrow.
“There’s more in the house, you know.”
She tilted back her head as if exhausted at the thought. “It’s so far away.”
“Did you see Luther?”
“Luther? Where?”
“Out front? He’s coming, too.”
“Oh, no. Just us so far.”
She stole another sip and Sean waggled his index finger at her.
“Actually, don’t drink too much. I’ve got a job for you two tonight.”
“A job? This was a trap? I thought you were making us dinner.”
“I am, but I just got a call.”
Catriona frowned. “Fine. What is it?”
“Konrad Burson’s having a wrap party at the Devil’s Warehouse set and I’d like you to be there as security.”
Catriona grunted and searched her memory for more information on the film. Production of Devil’s Warehouse took place off the main studio lot, so she hadn’t heard much about it.
“That’s at the auxiliary lot out here, isn’t it?”
Sean nodded. “But since I’m hosting Luther, it’s handy you’re here to run over there for me for a couple hours.”
“Hm. See, I was thinking how handy you’ll both be out here so you can go work security.”
“Nope. That’s not how I see it at all. Lucky Luther and I are the bosses.”
“Is that the movie about the serial killer from a few years ago? The one who strapped a bomb on his last victim and took out the emergency crew?”
“Uh huh. The press called him Pinky.”
Catriona pointed at Sean. “Right. Because all the bodies they found were missing a pinky finger. I remember now. Yikes. So it’s a slasher film?”
“Not exactly. It’s told from his son’s perspective.”
Catriona recoiled, remembering details from the news and how she’d felt bad for the killer’s son. “He made the kid watch, didn’t he?”
“So the story goes. Pinky’s dead of course but I met the kid—Mason. Parasol hired him as a consultant on the film. Him and the cop who killed his father.”
Catriona grimaced. “Awkward.”
“You’d think, but they’ve become friends. Soto, the officer, saved Mason.”
Catriona nodded. “I guess that’s true.”
“Konrad says he’s a good kid, considering everything he’s gone through. He even cast him to play himself.”
“There’s a marketing stunt.”
“I’m sure that had a lot to do with it.”
“So what do we need to do?”
“Konrad’s going to run the party on set, like a sort of haunted house, but he tends to overdo things and creep fests like these draw out the weirdos. News has already leaked online.”
“Leaked via Konrad, no doubt.”
“No doubt. I told him I’d like to have some people there.”
“And that’s where Broch and I come in.”
“Exactly.”
Catriona pulled out her phone. “I better call Fiona and tell her we won’t be coming back tonight.”
“She can just stay at your place. You won’t have to set her up across the hall.”
Catriona rolled her eyes.
Just what I want. My psychotic sister alone in my house.
She couldn’t remember if she had anything incriminating lying around her apartment, but she felt confident if she did, Fiona would find it.
“Hello?”
“Fiona?”
“You called my phone. Who do you think it is?”
“Yep. That’s you. Always a joy.”
“What do you want? And what am I supposed to do here in your hovel? I’m so bored I’m about to watch reality shows I’m not in.”
“We won’t be back tonight, so you have the place to yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You make it sound like being trapped in your sad little apartment is like winning the lottery.”
Catriona pulled the phone from her ear and took a deep breath.
Patience.
“Just stay there. We don’t know if Rune is still around and if he is, he’s definitely looking for the girl who stabbed him in the neck. You’re safer there than in your stupid-expensive, nouveau riche penthouse.”
“You wish you could be nouveau riche.”
“Sure. Every night before I go to bed it’s what I pray for. Dear God, please give me all of the money and none of the brains.”
The patio doors slid open and Broch walked out, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing his new swim trunks. They fit him like a plaid glove.
Wow.
Fiona said something else but Catriona didn’t hear.
“Look, I’m going. Stay there, or the next time I see you I’ll be identifying your body. I already told the guards not to let you out, so don’t even think about it.”
Catriona hung up before her sister could say another word and cleared her throat. “They look good. How do they fit?”
Broch’s lip curled. “Meh.”
Catriona glanced at Sean. “Did they say meh in ancient Scotland?”
He took a sip of his whiskey. “All the time. We invented it.”
Broch strode to the steps leading into the pool and walked in with the confidence of Poseidon returning to the sea. Plunging in, he swam underwater to the opposite side, flipped and returned to the shallow end to stand, pushing his wet shoulder-length locks from his eyes as if he were starring in a high-end cologne commercial.
Ridiculous.
“I have some clothes for you and Broch to wear to the party,” said Sean, seeming less impressed by Broch’s figure.
Putting Broch in clothes was the last thing on Catriona’s mind.
She nodded as Broch turned and winked at her, the skin of his muscular torso glistening in the sun’s dying light.
I’m married to that. Doesn’t seem so
