Heater. He hadn’t installed a heater. Hadn’t requested one. Why would he? Compared to Britain—and New York, for that matter—it was bloody hot in Australia, most especially in summer.
So where had the heater come from?
Or more to the point, who had put it in there?
Pulling in a deep, smoke-tainted breath, he turned from his trailer. Nigel McQueen’s personal assistant had been responsible for arranging the mobile home. Maybe the young man knew where the heater came from?
Fifteen minutes later, Aslin was more frustrated than ever. Judging by the confusion in the P.A.’s eyes when questioned, followed by the abject terror when Aslin’s control began to fray, the young man was clueless. As was Nigel when Aslin questioned him while he was in the middle of placating a very agitated Scarlett Johansson over a stolen kiss from a police officer.
Now, standing on the other side of the clearing from the row of trailers, Aslin stared hard at the destroyed carcass.
Someone knew something. Someone had seen something. There was no way, in a place as crowded with people as the Dead Even film site, not one person saw someone carrying something as obvious as a gas heater.
Someone, somewhere, knew something.
He just had to find that person.
His back pocket started to vibrate, his phone’s normal ring tone—Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”—filling the silence.
Biting back a muttered curse, Aslin yanked his cell phone out and rammed it to his ear. “Rhodes.”
“You know that fan causing Huntley grief?” Liev Reynold’s Australian accent sounded through the connection, his tone on edge. “The one with the red hair security escorted off the site today? She’s here at the hospital.”
Thick heat knotted like a furious fist in Aslin’s gut. “I’m on my way.”
He shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned from the trailer, only to find Warren McCreedy directly behind him.
The key grip flinched, stumbling back a step. “Sorry, Mr. Rhodes.”
Aslin stopped his hands balling into fists. Just. “That’s okay. What can I help you with?”
McCreedy’s gaze slid to the destruction behind Aslin for a second before returning to Aslin. “I just wanted to ask how Ms. Hemsworth is?”
The hair on the back of Aslin’s neck stirred. “She’s well.”
McCreedy let out a breath, shooting the trailer another glance. “That’s good. It would fuck Chris up big time if anything happened to his sister.”
“In what way?”
McCreedy barked out a wry laugh. “She’s his world. Without her…well, without her his life wasn’t exactly sane.”
Aslin cocked his head to the side. A fraction. “Weren’t you a part of that life?”
“Yeah, I was. But he’s in a better place now. Better mindset and all. Still miss it though.”
The cold finger that had traced its way up Aslin’s spine earlier returned. Colder. He stared hard at the key grip. “How much?”
The man’s eyebrows shot up his head. “Fuck, not enough to hurt Rowan, if that’s what you’re thinking?”
At Rowan’s name, Aslin’s anger—already simmering close to deadly rage—grew hotter. He lowered his head, just enough to make McCreedy shuffle back a step. “I’m thinking a number of things at this point in time, lad.”
Aslin held him prisoner with his stare, letting the man see the promise in his eyes, letting the key grip sweat for a long moment. And then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
He heard McCreedy’s sharp exhalation cut the air behind him. Almost smelt his pungent B.O. as the man no doubt swiped at his face or ran his fingers through his hair. It was the normal response to such an obvious threat.
As soon as Aslin dealt with the fan at the hospital, he’d sit down with Warren McCreedy and have a conversation. A long one. Something about the key grip was…off.
Belinda however, had fled the scene by the time Aslin stormed into the hospital’s main entry foyer. Liev met him just inside the door, the Australian dwarfing those around him, his expression set in a lopsided grin. “She took off about ten minutes ago,” Liev said, shoving his hands into his back pockets. “Didn’t try to come any farther than here. Asked the nurse on the front desk if Chris Huntley was here and okay. The nurse told her she had no clue who Chris Huntley was.” Liev chuckled. “I’m not sure the old duck was kidding either.”
Aslin forced the tension in his body to abate. He bit back a sigh. The red-headed fan was a persistent one, that was for certain. After the way he’d crash-tackled her to the ground earlier that day, as well as the way she’d been dragged away by the film’s security team, he was surprised she’d come this close to Chris again.