Page 43 of When He Plays

He slammed the glass back down on the bar. “I heard wrong.” He wasn’t mocking any longer. In an instant, his tone had done a one-eighty. He stalked toward Jezebel.

She rose from the couch. Stood at all five-foot-nothing because the woman was tiny. A former ballerina who had somehow become a super spy. “I don’t think you did.” She didn’t even blink. “Charlotte said you were demanding to be informed about the true mission goal. After some careful consideration, I decided to share more details with you.”

Charlotte shifted from one foot to the other. “What convinced you?”

“Logan had the opportunity to save himself tonight from unnecessary suspicion—suspicion from the Las Vegas Police Department. All he had to do was tell the investigating detective that he had CIA operatives who could back up his story. Operatives who could corroborate that he was defending himself. That he had no choice but to stab the man who intended to shoot him. In short, Logan could have sold us both out.” A pause. “He didn’t.”

Logan had to laugh at that logic. “Oh, come on. If you like me and you want to spill all the details about the case because you know I’m amazing, just say so, Jez. But don’t come up with some crap excuse.”

“Jezebel.”

“Whatever. I doubt it’s your real name.”

Her eyebrows rose. That was pretty much confirmation that, yep, not her real name.

He inclined his head toward her. “At least be semi-honest with me. Don’t lie and say you’re sharing because I didn’t spill your secrets. Thanks to the nearby street cam, I had video footage of the attack from outside. I didn’t need to go ratting out spies in order to save my hide.”

Charlotte had gone silent.

Jezebel hadn’t. “It’s more than that,” she allowed.

So she was being a bit more honest.

“I saw you in that alley,” she revealed.

Wait, she had? Had Jezebel been watching the whole attack? From what vantage point?

“You were very, very protective of Charlotte. You killed Morris because he was aiming for her with his second shot, didn’t you? Her, not you. Because from where he was positioned, from where she was running, the bullet should have hit her. Luckily, you two hit the ground before it could slam into my agent.”

Seemed to him that she’d seen too much. “Let’s get back to the big reveal about the mission purpose. Because I’m pretty sure you said⁠—”

“I said that the purpose of the mission is for Charlotte to attract the attention of a killer.” Brisk. “That’s the reason why she needed a path that led to your inner circle. That’s the reason I gave you a specific list of individuals to invite to your latest private game. We are hunting a very dangerous predator, Logan. A serial killer.”

“What? No, no, that’s bull. The Feds do that kind of work. Not the CIA. You guys are interested in espionage, you are interested in the weapon’s trade, cyberterrorism⁠—”

“We are interested in international criminals who have murdered women across the globe. We are very, very interested in finding the specific individual who murdered a liaison at the Greek Embassy, an MI6 Agent, a CIA operative—” Jezebel broke off. “An operative who was close to me.” A brief clearing of her throat. “I am looking for a predator who enjoys stalking and destroying women in their late twenties to early thirties, women who should be able to handle danger, but who find themselves becoming his victims. This man takes his prey. He terrorizes them. He kills them. He is an international monster that I will stop before I end my time at the CIA. He is a monster that Charlotte will unmask.”

He looked at Charlotte. His gorgeous, by-the-book spy. “Fuck me.” A shake of his head as rage coiled tightly within him. “You want to be his next victim.” That was the damn plan?

“No.” A hard shake of her head that sent her silky hair sliding against her cheeks once more. “I want him to be my victim.”

Chapter Nine

“So we’re just going to share the bed?” Charlotte asked, aware that her voice held the faintest of trembles and came out way too breathy.

Logan hit the button on a remote, and the heavy curtains over the windows slid into place, completely blocking out the sunlight and plunging the room into darkness. An enveloping, too intimate darkness. “It’s a massive bed,” Logan’s voice rumbled at her from the dark. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. I’ll be good, promise.”

That voice of his…Deep. Sexy. Rough at the edges. Just the kind of voice that a woman would love to hear, say, in a dark room. Next to a massive bed.

“I can sleep on the couch,” she blurted. “Or there has to be another bedroom in this place. It’s like a huge suite. Nearly covers the entire top level of this hotel.”

“It is not that big.”

Okay, it was not. She’d exaggerated. Sue her.

“Put a pillow between us if you want, but I’m crashing in bed. So are you. I just found out that you’re prey for some globe-trotting serial killer. You think I am letting you get away from me after that big reveal? Hell, you’re lucky I am not chaining you to my side.”

“That would be serious overkill,” she muttered.