Page 110 of When He Plays

Logan inclined his head toward her. “I got you,” he promised.

Did he?

“If you don’t shoot Logan, then l finish off your partner. Jamar, I believe it is? Such a shame. Pretty sure he has kids. Twins?”

Yes. Sweet, precious twins who had their father’s eyes. “What do you want?”

“First, shoot Logan. Then we’ll talk about a trade for Harper. I have to be certain that you’ll come alone for the trade. That’s why I had to take out your partner first. He is still breathing, for the record. But he won’t be if you don’t follow my instructions and shoot Logan. Right now.”

Logan stepped forward. “What is he telling you?”

“He wants me to shoot you,” she choked out, barely recognizing her own voice. My partner or my lover. No, no, she would not make this choice. “I-I think he may be watching.” But she couldn’t be sure. It could just be a bluff. All the damn players in this twisted game were so good at bluffing. Hadn’t they proved that at the poker table again and again?

Logan nodded. His gaze swept around the bedroom. “Someone is getting fired. My suite is always supposed to be swept for recording devices and transmitters. Evans knows that he is supposed to guarantee my security up here.”

“He says that he’ll kill Jamar if I don’t shoot you.”

Logan grabbed his cell phone and fired off a text.

“I’m giving you five seconds,” the voice in her ear informed her, his fury coming through even with the distortion. “Then Jamar dies. Five, four, three, two⁠—”

She couldn’t risk it. “Logan!”

His head snapped toward her. His jaw hardened. He took a few lunging steps toward her.

Charlotte fired.

Logan fell. His body slammed down onto the floor, right near the side of the bed.

Silence.

In the bedroom.

On the other end of the line.

Then…

Laughter. Fast. Hard. Filling her ear. “Excellent job. Got to say, I didn’t think you’d do it. It takes a special kind of woman to fuck a man and then put a bullet into him.”

Logan didn’t appear to be moving. He’d fallen so close to the bed. Face down.

“You want to trade yourself for Harper?” A taunt. “Then get that ass of yours to the cage. Now.”

“What cage?” she demanded. Her body had locked in place. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Figure it out. You have five minutes. Leave your cell phone behind. Leave the gun. Leave all weapons. And leave Logan on the floor,” the voice snarled at her. “He can fucking bleed out. You stop for him, you try to help him in any way, and you’ll be finding pieces of Harper for weeks. I guarantee that.” He hung up.

Cage. What cage? What⁠—

It hit her. Her first day on the job with Logan. He’d gone to confront Morris and stop the cage fight. He’d gotten Jake out of the fight.

The cage.

Her gaze lingered on Logan. A prone Logan. A sob wanted to tear from her, but she couldn’t stand there and cry. She was a professional. She had a job to do. A victim to save.

Victims. Plural. Jamar. Harper.

And…