Page 39 of Target Me
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to step in here without blushing again,” I said with a nervous giggle.
Logan smirked.“I’ve been hard all day, sitting in here thinking about what we did last time. I’m going to have to find a new workspace if I want to be at all productive.”
I hummed in pleasure, sinking into the wingback chair and ignoring the wet spot beneath me.
Logan moved around the room, picking up the cord and tassel to replace. I wondered if you’d be able to tell what had been done with the tassel once it dried.
“Avery?” Logan’s voice sounded odd.
I sat up, wondering why he was holding a painting in his hand.
“I knocked this down earlier. Do you know what this is?” The frame of the painting was thick, something that hadn’t been obvious when it hung half hidden by the curtains. Halfway down the frame was a small keyhole.
“I don’t know. Mystery painting? I asked, smirking at my joke.
Logan frowned and leaned the painting against the wall before turning to the desk.
“I think…” Grabbing the small key I’d seen him playing with earlier, he kneeled beside the frame and fit it to the lock.
14
LOGAN
Papers slid across the floor. Some documents bearing the seal of the US Army, and others handwritten notes and various correspondence.
“It looks like work things,” Avery said hesitantly, toeing a loose sheet of paper closer to the others.
“None of this should be in a private residence, though. It’s against protocol. Especially since your father has retired and moved into politics.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have looked into the frame at all. I started gathering the files together and froze as a familiar name jumped off the page at me.
Casualty: Lana Forster. Within expected parameters. Continue to phase two.
What the hell?
Avery shifted nervously beside me. She needed food and some aftercare. I’d pushed her hard. Curiosity could wait for later. Gathering all the loose sheets into a pile, I slid them into the bottom drawer of the desk and replaced the frame on the wall. Something suspicious was going on here—something beyond Avery’s stalker—and I was going to find out what.
“Time to eat, hen,” I announced, straightening and guiding her out of the study with a hand pressed to her back.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the desk at the doorway but didn’t protest as we headed into the kitchen to find the meals Luciana had left us.
My mind churned over the glimpse I’d had of the documents in the General’s study, obsessing to the point of distraction as I chewed my moussaka.
“I’m going to strip naked and run around the neighborhood to celebrate my newfound love of exhibitionism.”
“What?” I snapped my head around to see her grinning wickedly at me.
“There you are. I was worried I’d need to start removing clothes to get your attention back.”
“Sorry, hen. I was just thinking.”
She hummed. “I know, but what can we really do about it? One mystery at a time might be a good way to go. At least those documents aren’t going to get us killed.”
I forced a laugh, worried that was exactly what they could do. She was right, though, finding the person who sabotaged her brakes and continued to lurk took precedence over documents that may or may not prove guilt of a crime already committed.
Hell, maybe I’d misread the situation, and the correspondence had meant something else entirely.
Gathering our plates, I washed them quickly in the sink and turned to see her frowning at the back patio.
