Page 29 of When He Plays

“I had someone follow Charlotte,” said the man on the right side. Evans. Evans McCall had worked for him just under two years, and he was the VP of security at the hotel. “Not too close,” Evans elaborated, “just as you ordered. But no one will be messing with her. Count on it.”

“Good. Because I’m afraid a big target may be on her back after tonight.” He headed for the elevator.

Evans rushed to keep up. “Boss?”

“Going for a run.” He entered the elevator. Stabbed the button so he could go to his suite and change.

Before the doors could close, Evans threw his arm into the elevator. “Sir. Is that a good idea? It’s…it’s nearing two a.m.” His hand curled to stop the door from extending again.

He was aware of the time. “That means the roads won’t be as busy.”

“Sir, I heard what went down earlier.”

If the man hadn’t heard, Logan would have been disappointed.

“First, let me offer my apologies for the weapons search.” Evans appeared both contrite and embarrassed. “I swear, my team examined every person who went in that room. I don’t know how we missed the weapon that Ares had.”

And the one that Charlotte had? Because that makes two weapons you missed. Sloppy work.

“It won’t happen again,” Evans vowed.

“It better not.” Just that. He didn’t have to make threats. Evans would understand the seriousness of the situation.

Evans kept his hand in place. “You will need guards,” Evans said quickly. “For your run tonight.”

“Well, then tell them to get their running shoes on and be prepared to haul ass. I’m leaving in five minutes.” He pointed toward the VP’s hand. “Move it.”

Evans moved his hand. “Five minutes. Done.” But worry darkened his eyes. “We’ve talked about these late-night runs before. They are too dangerous⁠—”

“Can’t hear you. Doors are closing.”

And…

They did.

Logan leaned against the back wall of the elevator. What the hell am I going to do with Charlotte?

“So, what in the hell am I supposed to do now?” Charlotte demanded as she rushed across the hotel room. A hotel room on the sixteenth floor of the building owned by Logan.

Her partner, Jamar Miller, peered at her from his position near the desk. A desk loaded down with computer monitors and tech equipment.

She’d just come into the hotel room. Room 1648. Yes, fine, she’d entered semi-dramatically. Used her key. Hauled open the door. Marched in and started with her big question a she threw her hands into the air.

Jamar frowned at her. “Afraid you’ll need to bring us up to speed,” he said, then he turned around one of the computer monitors so that it slanted toward Charlotte. The new position allowed her to see the face of their boss, Jezebel Jenkins, on that particular monitor. “We both lost the audio feed,” he revealed. “The French jerk called you a rabbit, we got images of all the players at the table, and then the glasses got smashed to hell and back. No video feed. No audio feed. Jez and I were totally in the dark for the rest of the scene upstairs.”

Oh.

He leaned back in the desk chair. It squeaked beneath his weight.“So bring us up to speed, would you? What happened?”

They didn’t hear the make out session. “Logan won a casino.”

Jamar’s dark eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. He also won a villa in France. Also a ridiculous amount of cash.” She rubbed her hands together. “A fight broke out. Logan and, ah, Ares, went at it. I may have wound up pulling my knife on Ares.”

Jamar nodded. “That can happen.”

“What?” A sharp exclamation from Jezebel. She’d been avidly listening and watching. “That cannot happen! You are supposed to be playing the demure assistant. Not the knife-wielding assistant! You know how important this cover is.”