Page 24 of Trick or Trouble
Chapter 6
Logan inspected thesagging two stories of the Rocking Chair Motel with the assessing eye of an alpha protector who had no illusions about what prowled these streets after dark.The only splash of color was the cheerful pots of mums near the door, which attempted to maintain an atmosphere of respectability.Beyond that, nothing but shadows, peeling paint, and the kind of silence that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Doug was not wrong.
This wasn’t a place for anyone to be hanging around—least of all a pretty young woman like Darcy.
“So, where did Mr.Beefy hide his car?”he asked, studying the cracked sidewalks, dimly lit by a few flickering streetlamps, and the shadowy doorways.
Darcy smirked and lowered her binoculars.“He didn’t.Even he has more sense than to bring his Lincoln down here and leave it for any length of time.They come in Ubers, meet in the room, and leave the same way.”
His eyebrow slid up.“The same room every time?How long have you been watching him?”
“Yep—same room—same time.Two months.He’s a clockwork guy—same schedule, same habits.Guys like him make my job easier,” she explained.“Pure bread and butter.”
Her grin was cocky now, too cocky for his taste.Logan tracked a stray cat slinking out of the alley—the same alley where he’d caught Darcy last night.His jaw flexed.“And you know they’re here...how?”
She pointed up to the second floor.“Third window from the front.If they are on time—and they always are—they are already in there.”
“Impressive,” he admitted.His brow quirked up.“How do they get the same room every time?”
She shot him a glance dripping with disbelief.“Seriously?You need me to paint you a picture?”
His eyes hardened.“They actually book reservations for this fleabag?With a prenup in play, he’s either arrogant or stupid.”
Darcy's grin was wicked.“Try both.And just so you know, Sherlock—it’s Mrs.Beefy with the money and the prenup.He’s the one at risk.”
Logan’s lips curved ruefully.“Figures.”He leaned a little closer, his voice low.“Answer me this, hotshot.Why the hell did you park two blocks away last night?These streets are dead quiet.”
She gave him a long, exaggerated stare.“I’m beginning to worry about you, Inspector Clouseau.Or maybe you weren’t here when the city blocked off the streets for the little ghosts and goblins—and witches, I might add.Please tell me that’s the reason.”
Logan’s laugh rumbled out despite himself—he’d forgotten about Halloween.“Which explains why you parked at the diner.More traffic, more cameras, safer.You’re no rookie, are you?”he replied ruefully.
She pointed a finger at him and pulled her imaginary trigger.“Bingo, Inspector, your brain kicked in.”Her smile slipped.“Not that it saved my baby from being gutted.Still, the diner’s got cameras.Maybe the cops will nail the perps.I’ll need a new ride, but hey—I did my homework.”
Logan’s jaw set, steel edging back into his voice.She’d done the homework last night, but it hadn’t saved her.And that gnawed at something deep in him.“You shouldn’t have to gamble on cameras, Darcy.Not when you’re parked two blocks from hell.”
Her eyes sharpened, wary as a cat scenting danger.“Et tu, Brutus?Now you sound like Doug.”
The jab hit its mark, but Logan didn’t flinch.Inside, he was at war with himself.He had no right to tell Darcy how to do her job, no matter how much the thought of her in danger tangled his guts.Just being with her on this stakeout told him plenty—Darcy was careful, clever, and more than capable—but it wasn’t always enough.
Last night had proved that.
The words on his tongue were sharp, possessive, the kind that would earn him that fire-in-her-eyes glare.He bit back the words he wanted to say—the ones that would draw a hard line, and forced himself to a gentler tack.“Doug has a point,” he quietly replied, the steel refusing to leave his tone despite himself.“I’m assuming you have an endgame in mind in this kind of work?”God—he hoped so.Anything that didn’t include this type of sleaze.
Her tone was sharp, biting, and as cold as an ice block.“And if I don’t?”
