Chapter 19 #2
Sebastian didn’t know about Evelyn and the new suspicion on Ares. Hell, even Logan didn’t know much. Just what he’d picked up while Charlotte had been on the phone, and this hardly seemed the moment to reveal all to the men.
“That is no way to greet a person.” Pierre sniffed. He waved a hand in the air toward Sebastian’s furious visage. “Manners are gone in this town.”
“I’m a fucking US marshal,” Sebastian snarled as he closed in. “Answer my question, now. I’ve been watching you. I’ve been digging into your secrets. I’ve been—”
Pierre turned and ran.
Only he didn’t get far.
Logan tackled him. The two men hit the marble floor of the lobby with bone-jarring force.
Charlotte gaped at them. She and Logan hadn’t gone into a detailed discussion of how they’d stop Pierre, but she hadn’t quite expected this. “Uh, Logan…”
Sebastian flew past her. He grabbed Logan. Hauled him off a twisting, heaving Pierre. But Pierre came up, swinging, hard. A left hook that caught Sebastian in the jaw, then a right to the cheek. Sebastian grunted at the impact of the blows and fell back.
That falling back just gave Logan a new opportunity. Logan drove his fist deep into Pierre’s gut. She saw all the color bleed from Pierre’s face at that powerful hit. Brutal. Hard.
“Stop!” Sebastian’s snarl.
Everyone in the lobby seemed to be watching. A crowd had formed around the brawling men. So much for a low-profile scenario. Clearly, Sebastian wasn’t used to the way that the CIA operated.
We don’t attract a crowd’s attention. We handle things covertly. Or, they tried to do that.
“You just…” Sebastian wiped away blood that dripped from his lower lip. “You just assaulted a marshal, dumbass! You’re under arrest.” He whipped out a pair of handcuffs.
Logan straightened his shirt. Smoothed away wrinkles on the sleeves. Turned for Charlotte and strolled toward her all casual-like. He sent her his most innocent smile.
She could only shake her head.
Logan’s leaned in close to her. His lips brushed over her ear as he murmured, “Consider Pierre stopped.”
Oh, no. No. He had not planned that scene. Had he?
But…
Sebastian’s gaze was knowing as it slid toward Logan.
Yeah, okay. Fine. Maybe the men had semi-planned the scene together.
That was one way to stop a suspect from leaving town. Only he wasn’t the main suspect, and they all needed to talk, stat. But it wasn’t like they could just sneak away for a quick chat, not with Sebastian cuffing Pierre. Not with the crowd watching, wide-eyed.
“Nothing to see here, people!” Sebastian’s loud voice echoed in the cavernous lobby. “Disperse!”
Some people jumped. Most dispersed. Thankfully.
So, yes, she needed to reveal her news, immediately, before some other big drama occurred. “Evelyn delivered a bottle of champagne to Harper,” Charlotte blurted out. “We’ve gotten access to some of the footage from that night, still working on receiving more. But we know Evelyn is involved.”
“You can’t arrest me!” Pierre utterly ignored her words. No reaction at all.
Wouldn’t he have some reaction if he was involved in this mess? She’d deliberately revealed the bit about Evelyn in front of him just to solicit a response.
“I am arresting you,” Sebastian assured him. But a hard line cut between his brows. With one hand, he finished snapping the cuffs on Pierre. The other hand locked around Pierre’s shoulder. “Evelyn?” he repeated as his head angled toward Charlotte. “She was at my Harper’s?”
Wait, what was up with the possessive my? Something to analyze later. “Yes, I—”
“Charlotte Webb.”
Her head jerked to the right.
A woman wearing a dark blue blazer smiled uncertainly at her.
Uh, yeah, we attracted way too much attention. The blonde woman’s hair had been twisted into a bun. Hoop earrings hung from her lobes. A golden name tag on her left breast pocket identified her as Kathleen.
Hotel staff, obviously. Probably pissed hotel staff who wanted them to take their drama outside.
“I’m a US marshal,” Sebastian declared. Seemed that he was in the mood to tell everyone that detail. So much for his undercover work. “Sorry for the scene, ma’am. I’ll have this resolved soon.”
“Ah, yes, please do.” Kathleen cut a worried gaze toward Pierre. “We don’t like trouble here at our hotel.” Her stare darted back to Charlotte. “I have a telephone call for you.”
“Excuse me?” Charlotte was sure she’d heard wrong. The woman had come over because of a phone call?
“On the line at my desk.” Kathleen’s well-manicured hand motioned to a very large desk near the check-in table. Concierge. “The caller asked specifically to speak with you.” A hint of uncertainty. “He described you perfectly, said you would be with the marshal.”
As curiosity filled her, Charlotte found herself inching toward the desk and the phone.
“Press the red button,” Kathleen instructed Charlotte even as the other woman stilled a few feet away from that desk, presumably to give Charlotte some privacy.
How was someone calling her, at this hotel?
If it had been Jezebel or Jamar, they’d just use her cell phone to reach her.
Also, Jamar was currently sitting about ten feet away, acting as if the painting on the wall fascinated him when she knew he was actually carefully monitoring every detail of the scene between Logan, Sebastian, and a still protesting Pierre.
Charlotte scooped up the phone. She pressed the red button. Put the phone to her ear. “Charlotte speaking,” she began.
“I’d rather it be you.” A man’s muffled response. No accent. Raspy.
“Excuse me?” She turned around, her gaze searching the lobby.
“I would rather have you. You intrigue me.”
Ice poured through her veins. “Who is this?”
Laughter. “Don’t you know? And here I thought you came to town just because you wanted to meet me.”
Her hand waved frantically toward Logan.
He began hurrying toward her.
“She isn’t a challenge. I don’t think she’ll last long. Certainly not the full week like the others.”
It’s him. It. Is. Him. “You want a challenge? Then switch me for Harper. Tell me when and where, and I’ll trade myself for her in an instant.” Done.
Logan had reached her side. He sucked in a deep breath, and Charlotte knew he’d overheard her words. “No.” Snarled. Logan shook his head, hard. “You are not!”
But laughter filled the line. “A trade. That is the plan.”
“Do not hurt Harper!” Charlotte’s frantic order. Or plea. Maybe both. “Do not—”
“Talk soon.”
The line went dead.
Her gaze jumped to Logan. Then to the concierge—to Kathleen.
“Who was that, Charlotte?” Logan asked her but the grim tone of his voice told her that he was fully aware of the caller’s identity.
It was him, Logan. It was the perp we’re after. “He has Harper.” Her spine straightened. “It was him.”
Logan took a hard step toward a watchful Kathleen. “Was the call in-house?”
Kathleen’s wide-eyed stare bobbed between Logan and Charlotte. “What is happening right now? Should I get the marshal?”
“Was the call in-house?” Logan repeated in a low, lethal tone. “I know how this shit works. If the call came from somewhere else in this hotel—one of the rooms—then you know which room. I want to know that room, and I want to know right the hell now.”
Kathleen shuffled closer. She peered down at the phone on her desk.
“You know who I am,” Logan spoke through gritted teeth. “Do you want me as a friend or as an enemy? You got the room number when the call came in. Tell it to me.”
“Room 1408,” Kathleen breathed.
Charlotte immediately whirled and started to run toward—
Logan looped an arm around her stomach and hauled her right back against him. “Who is staying in that room? Kathleen, who is staying there?”
Charlotte twisted in his grip. “Don’t make me hurt you.” If necessary to get out of his hold, she’d do it. “I have to help Harper! I have to stop him!”
Kathleen rushed around her desk. Sort of fell into her chair. Then her fingers were flying over the keyboard. “Pierre Dubois,” she spoke quickly. “It’s his room!”
But Pierre was being escorted out of the hotel by Sebastian right at that very moment. Pierre wasn’t the one who’d just made that phone call. Impossible.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Logan vowed in Charlotte’s ear. He let her go, but raced with her across the lobby.
Jamar stopped faking interest in the painting. He bounded onto the elevator with them.
“What’s happening?’ Jamar demanded.
Charlotte pushed the button for the fourteenth floor.
The doors slid closed. “The perp just called me.” She reached into her small bag and pulled out her gun. One of the reasons she’d brought the bag—it made hiding her weapon easier. “The bastard is in the hotel, room 1408. He just called.”
Jamar hauled out his gun, too. It had been tucked under his suit coat.
“Well.” A sigh from Logan. “No one told me that we were all packing weapons, so I suppose it’s a good thing I came prepared on my own, isn’t it?”
What kind of weapon did he have? She frowned over at him.
“I’ll pull it out when it’s needed,” he assured her. “Right now, I think you and Jamar—it is Jamar, yes?”
“Yes,” Jamar grunted.
“Pleasure to officially meet you. Only heard great things. By the way, thanks for watching my wife’s ass over the years.”
“What?” Jamar gaped at him.
“Anyway…” A roll of Logan’s shoulders. “You two have the fire power covered. I’ll pull out my weapon when needed.”
Jamar shook his head, hard. Then locked eyes with Charlotte. “Are you sure it was him?” Jamar asked her. “You know for certain this is the killer we’re after?”