A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,6

broken, casting the treeless area in darkness, apart from the light of the nearly full moon. Shadows moved to his left across the concrete parking lot, but he paid them no attention. He wasn’t looking for trouble—not tonight.

“Wait here,” he told his driver.

Farrell went upstairs and knocked on the door to the apartment number Adam had texted. After a moment, it opened a crack.

“Sorry, we didn’t order any,” the kid said with a smirk.

Farrell smiled at him, then kicked the door open, breaking the security chain. “Where’s my brother?”

The kid scrambled backward. “Hey, I was just kidding around. I was going to let you in. Farrell, right? I’m Peter.” He nodded toward the corner. “That’s Nick.”

The other boy, Nick, watched the two of them warily, taking a shaky step backward as Farrell fisted his hands and moved menacingly toward the first kid.

“Where is Adam?” he growled. “Don’t make me ask again or you’ll regret it.”

“Back room,” Peter said, then cleared his throat. “It’s cool you’re here. You’re welcome to join the party. We don’t mind sharing.”

Farrell moved through the small apartment toward the closed door at the rear. It opened before he reached it, and Adam’s nervous face greeted him.

“Oh, hi,” Adam said.

Yes, his brother definitely looked nervous. Nervous and guilty. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Adam rubbed a hand through his light brown hair. “I mean, everything’s fine. You should go back to whatever you were doing, and I can . . . fix this.”

“Fix what?” When Adam didn’t answer, Farrell shook his head. “I’m taking you home. It’s after midnight. Isn’t that your curfew?”

Adam scowled. “I’m too old for curfews.”

“Our beloved parents might disagree with that. I know they did when I was sixteen. Let’s go.” He blew out a breath. Maybe he was taking the wrong approach. “I got the latest KillerMan movie all loaded up. I know you want to see it as much as I do.”

One thing the brothers shared was their love of Korean action movies. Never dubbed, always with subtitles. They watched at least one a week together in the Graysons’ home theater.

“But the party’s not over yet,” Peter whined.

So these were Adam’s new friends. Both of them gave Farrell a deeply uneasy feeling.

“Party, huh?” he said. “Three kids out late on a Friday night in some sketchy apartment. Doesn’t seem like much of a party to me.” He was met with silence, and he returned his attention to Adam. “What’s in the room?”

Adam grimaced. He held the door open only wide enough for him to look at Farrell, not wide enough for Farrell to see beyond.

“I told you not to come.”

“Yeah. Right after you said you were in trouble. What’s in the room?” he repeated.

“Nothing.”

Farrell already felt his hangover circling like a mean-spirited vulture. “Show me right now.”

“Yeah, let’s show him.” Nick, with a big, sleazy grin on his face, approached slowly. “The fun just got started. Adam’s first, but you can go second, if you’d like.”

Farrell pushed the door open to reveal a small bedroom. The bed was unmade, the curtains askew. It smelled sour, like unwashed clothing.

An unconscious woman lay on the bed.

“Explain,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “Now.”

“She was looking to party—she just needed a bit of a push.” Peter shrugged. “Led the three of us back here before she passed out. It’s her place.”

She was at least ten years older than the boys. Her red lipstick was smeared, and she smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol.

“Who drugged her?” Farrell asked as evenly as he could, flicking a glance at Adam. “You?”

Adam shook his head, his expression bleak.

“Did you touch her?” She was still wearing all her clothes, even her panty hose and stiletto heels. But he had to ask.

“No,” Adam replied in barely a whisper.

“He’s been in here for half an hour,” Peter said with a laugh. “We were getting bored waiting for him to get started.”

Farrell ignored him, keeping his attention on Adam. “Were you going to?”

A shadow of fear and uncertainty slid behind Adam’s eyes.

Nick shook his head, grinning. “We tried to help your brother pop his cherry, and this is what—”

Farrell couldn’t hold his anger in anymore. He exploded. He grabbed Nick by his throat and slammed him against the wall, rattling the cheap framed art. “Listen to me very carefully. If you ever—ever—get my brother involved in something like this again, I’m going to kill you—both of you.” He sent a death glare toward Peter before returning his attention to the kid in