Page 23 of Sirens
Myrtle arched a penciled eyebrow at him and cleared her throat.
“—that I’ve dearly come to love with my whole heart,” Gabe quickly added, scooting off the chair to begin gathering the butt plugs. “How much time do you think you’ll need once we’re inside?”
“If the accounts I read online are accurate, Madame Katz’s room should be on the fourth floor on the side facing the water. As long as there are no obstructions blocking off the stairwell, I’d say fifteen minutes tops?”
“No problem.” Gabe grinned, flexing his tattooed arms. “I can disable the security system for at least that long.”
Yet another skill he’d picked up from his infamous family.
Maggie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “All right, then,” she said, determination surging through her veins. “I guess it’s a go.”
“Let’s get a move on,” Gabe said finally, rolling up the blueprints and tucking them into his messenger bag before slinging it over his shoulder.
Deciding it would be best to avoid parading conspicuously down Water Street, they exited through the back door of Vee’s Lady Garden and picked their way down the alley.
The moon was high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the Victorian brick buildings. Shadows danced along the uneven cobblestones, giddy with their nightly freedom. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of ocean brine and damp earth, punctuated by the lingering aroma of garlic from Waterfront Pizza.
Just ahead, the sharp edges of the Palace Hotel loomed ominously against the star-splashed canvas of night. The ivy-clad walls seemed to shimmer in the spectral light, lending an almost otherworldly quality to the grand old dame.
Gabe fell into step beside Maggie, giving her a friendly nudge with his elbow.
“So, where were you when I called earlier?”
Maggie hesitated, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she remembered the kiss she’d shared with Trent McGarvey not half an hour before.
Lie?
No good. Probably at least five people had seen her, and the way gossip circulated in this town, Gabe would probably find out anyway.
“Uh, I was at Trent McGarvey’s,” she admitted reluctantly. “He offered to teach me to make some cocktails.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Gabe teased, waggling his eyebrows.
“It’s not even like that,” Maggie protested.
But…wasn’t it?
Wasn’t itexactlylike that?
A dizzying flash of sensations produced a rollercoaster flip in her middle.
“Just be careful, Mags,” Gabe said, slowing as they approached their destination. “You know I’m not tryna crawl up your ass or nothin’, but if living here has taught me anything, it’s that getting involved with a local is a one-way ticket on the gossip train.”
“I’m not getting involved with anyone, Gabe,” she said. “Promise.”
And she meant it.
Because even in the wake of the searing uncertainty their impromptu clinch had caused, Maggie already knew one thing with perfect surety.
Women like her didn’t end up with men like him.
The thought spilled over her like a bucket of ice water, unceremoniously washing her back to the present. She shivered as the looming silhouette of their destination came into view.
The Palace Hotel, its once-grand Victorian architecture now a mere shadow of its glorious—if somewhat scandalous—past. The darkened windows stared down at them like hollow eyes, the scaffolding that clung to the building looked like a skeletal beast, its metal limbs stretching upward. A deafening silence hung around the deserted construction site, magnifying each scrape of their shoes on the gravel as they cautiously approached.
“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s unpack the essentials.” They rummaged through their bags, her for herhandheld HD camera, Gabe for lock-picking tools, and Myrtle for a…road flare?
“What’s that for?” Maggie asked.
