Page 88 of Red Marked

The bed takes up most of the space. It’s a queen, at best. There’s a strip of floor on either side just wide enough to stand in. There’s a small desk and chair in the corner and a narrow door to the bathroom. No sofa. No pullout. No second anything.

I make a noise in my throat and drop the bags at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry.” I turn to her. “This has never happened. There are always rooms at this hotel. I’ve been coming into town regularly for months, and there’s never been a problem.”

“It’s fine, Flint. I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll try to see if we can find something else. Maybe we⁠—”

“Don’t be silly.” She’s already at the window, pushing the curtain back, looking out at the street. “We’ll share. It’s only to sleep.”

“I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

She turns around and laughs.

“What floor?” She waves at the strip of rug next to the bed. “You’re twice as wide as that. We’re adults, Flint. We can share a bed. It isn’t a big deal.”

She might sing a different tune at five in the morning when she wakes up with my cock pressed up against her ass.

29

Star

“Wow, that’s some house,” Flint says as we pull up.

“It sure is,” I say. “And a great view of the lake. I’d kill for a wraparound porch.”

“Nice boat too.”

“It sure is. That had to cost a fortune to ship from the Mainland.” I lick my lips.

Flint lets the engine idle.

The house looks quiet. There are no cars in the driveway.

“Do you remember what the plan is?” he asks.

I nod. “Yep. We’re journalists doing a follow-up story about the accident. I’m Luna, and you’re Rake.”

“Perfect.” He turns the car off and sets the parking brake. “Let’s go.”

I unbuckle the seatbelt, get out, and close the door. Flint presses the key fob, locking it with a beep.

We walk across the road and up the driveway. Flint knocks. He waits, then knocks again.

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home,” I say, after another minute passes.

“Wait here,” he tells me. Flint disappears around the corner. He is back in under two minutes, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Nope.”

We get back into the vehicle.

“Where does he work? We can try him there,” Flint says.

“He doesn’t work.” I shake my head. “He quit his job less than six months after the Halleron accident.”