Page 96 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Okay, one more,” Goldie says, rolling an old baseball between her fingers. She lifts it, taking a second to aim at the pyramid of milk bottles stacked at the other end of the stall.

She launches. The ball slams into the base, sending the whole thing crashing down.

“Damn, blondie!” the game attendant, a haunted ringmaster with smudged makeup and a blood-red coat, whistles. “You’ve got quite the arm.”

Goldie flexes. Tesla swoons.

“I’ll take the vampire,” Goldie says, pointing up at a massive teddy bear sporting a tiny black cape and adorable white fangs.

The ringmaster hands it over with a dramatic flourish. “Won him fair and square, miss. Enjoy.”

Goldie promptly spins on her thigh-high boot-clad heels and drops it into Tesla’s arms.

Tesla gasps, hugging it to her chest. “Thank you.”

Goldie plants a kiss on her cheek. “Anything for you, blue.”

The ringmaster’s gaze shifts to Logan, his smirk widening. “How about you, slick? Care to test your arm for the pretty lady?” He nods in my direction with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh,” I start, shaking my head at Logan. “You don’t have to?—”

“Sure.” Logan ignores me completely, already reaching into his pocket for cash.

The ringmaster lines up three baseballs on the counter. “When you’re ready.”

I step back to stand with Goldie and Tesla as Logan picks up the first ball. He bounces it in his hand, testing the weight, before winding up.

He throws.

And misses.

“Ha!” Goldie howls.“Loser.”

I snort, quickly covering my mouth.

Logan fires a playful glare at the three of us before picking up the second ball. “Just getting warmed up,” he says.

“Right,” Tesla says, nodding sagely. “Sure.”

The ringmaster chuckles. “Tough crowd of ladies you got with you.”

“The bane of my existence,” Logan replies, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he enjoys it. He enjoys making them happy, even at his own expense.

His next throw hits dead center at the top of the pyramid, sending a few bottles flying. The bottom rows stay put.

“One more!” the ringmaster urges. “Come on, don’t disappoint now.”

Goldie and Tesla cackle, but Logan just grins, lining up his last shot.

The ball sails through the air. It knocks over another few bottles, but three remain standing.

The ringmaster slaps the counter. “Not bad! Go on, pick a prize.”

Logan scans the display, his smirk growing. He points to something tucked away in the corner.

The ringmaster hands it over. It’s small, and I don’t see what it is at first—until Logan steps in front of me, lifting it up.

A headband. Black cat ears lined with soft pink.

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