Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Jack wasn’t exactly what you imagined when you pictured a motel owner. I think, in general, when you thought of someone with that job, your mind went skeezy and creepy and much older.
But Jack was in his early thirties with wavy, somewhat shaggy brown hair that was long enough to dance around the collar of the flannels he wore even in the middle of summer.
I guess you would describe him as classically, maybe even ruggedly good-looking, with a beard that was more due to laziness than actually wanting to grow one, blue eyes, and a build that was neither thin nor overly built.
Casually good-looking, that was how Jack liked to be.
Apparently, back in the day, he’d had a job working at the motel, becoming the only person the surly old owner liked, so he got the place when the old man kicked it a decade back.
“I haven’t forgotten the bloodstains on the carpet of your room,” Jack said, shaking his head at me as he reached for one of the coffee mugs, taking a sip of what looked like the cold contents.
“That was a nosebleed,” I insisted.
“Yeah. Noses tend to bleed when you get hit on them. Repeatedly.”
“He was a fucking creep. I did you a favor by running him out of town. No chick would ever feel safe here.”
“No chicks ever stay here,” Jack said, shrugging. “So what are you doing here? Get kicked out of the club?”
“No. I’m looking for someone.”
“Not a good someone if you’re looking for him here,” Jack concluded, dropping down onto his old office chair, the material ripped in more places than it was intact.
“Word is he got out recently from a domestic charge.”
“Yet another Prince Charming,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Maybe he’s here. Maybe not. Gotta know what you want with him before I start talking.”
“I want to talk to him.” At Jack’s cynical brow raise, I shrugged. “This time, I mean that. We were both drugged the same night. I am trying to put together why and who.”
“Drugged? Was it by mistake?” he asked, brows drawing down.
“I know. Makes no fucking sense. But I think this fuck was the target, and I was just collateral damage,” I explained, not wanting to lay it all out on the table.
“Weird. Alright. Well, I have three shitheads here right now. Since one showed up yesterday, I’m assuming that’s not him.”
“His name is Kyle,” I told him.
“Oh, that asshole,” Jack said, sighing, then looking back at the wall where he had a board with room numbers on it and little sticky notes beneath them. “He’s in two. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Of course not,” I agreed. “Thanks,” I added, giving him a nod before making my way out of the office before going into the main part of the building, ready to confront the man who might have some answers for me.
I was standing outside the door waiting for Kyle to get up and answer my knock when one of the other doors opened, and a woman all but stumbled out, still pulling her clothes back into place.
Small town or not, you knew a sex worker when you saw one. Something about the clothes that were inappropriate for society. Or the look in their eyes.
She was relatively young and pretty, and likely made bank in a town where she could count on a pretty steady stream of guys just getting out of the penn and looking for pussy.
Looking at me, she gave me a small nod as she shuffled past. For some reason, my gaze followed her, watching as she reached up toward her very shiny hair, and pulled it off her head.
It was right then that I realized why the woman’s hair in the bar seemed so shiny too.
It wasn’t real.
She had on a wig.
The only fucking lead I had on the woman was a false one.
Fuck.
CHAPTER FOUR
Morgaine
Jobs went sideways sometimes.
You could never account for the actions of strangers, or the way someone’s body might react to the powder in their drinks, or the poison-edged blade cutting into their skin.
Sometimes, someone figured out they were sick pretty quickly, and got themselves to a hospital where they could get care quickly enough to reverse the effects.
I didn’t like having to backtrack, having to make myself vulnerable more than once per job. It was too risky. Especially in a small town.
Granted, not all my jobs were in Shady Valley, but for the ones that were, I wanted it to be over fast.
But that fucker saw me slip the powder into Kyle’s drink. He’d stepped up and gotten him out of there toward help. And, from what I could tell, Kyle pulled through.
Damnit.
I hadn’t seen him at first.
My focus had been on my mark, and maybe even the poor girl he wasn’t taking a no from. I didn’t care about the rest of the bar. So I didn’t look around. I just moved in from the back, dropped the powder, and made my way toward the door.