“It’s our annual hiking trip,” I volunteer. “We pick a new place each year, usually someplace a bit ‘off the beaten path,’ so to speak.”
Francis nods, stroking the cat’s head. “There are some great local trails. Elk River is a good place to start. The Bridges is a scenic loop. Just be careful if you head toward Davis Creek. It’s easy to get lost. A hiker went missing that way last year and was never found. Wouldn’t be the first time, either.”
“Thanks, man. We’ll make sure to be careful,” Rowan says in a tone that politely says ‘please fuck off now.’ Francis gets the hint and gives us each a nod.
“Have a great night, folks. Feel free to call if you need anything,” he says, then waves Winston’s paw at us before he departs.
Our words of thanks follow him as he disappears down a corridor at the right of the lobby. The sound of a distant door closing reaches us a moment later.
“He looks like he should be trying to pick up girls with a dumbass avatar that looks literally nothing like him as he streams on Twitch or something, not running a hotel in nowhere, West Virginia,” Rowan grumbles. He keeps his glare pinned to the hallway as he tugs the armrest of my chair in an attempt to draw it closer.
“What is your problem?” I ask through a laugh as he lurches me closer. “Are you jealous of his pink tie or something?”
Rowan scoffs and shifts that hard stare to me while tugging my chair again. “No. Christ. Now give me that dragon dick, Blackbird.”
“No way.” I manage to slip out of my chair with the e-reader before he can grab me, waving it toward him in a taunt as I back away toward our rooms. “Goodnight, weirdo. I’m going to bed. Early bird gets the worm, you know. Might plan myself a solo hiking trip to Davis Creek. No boys allowed unless they have scales and a breeding kink.”
“Of all the times to forget my dinosaur onesie at home.” Rowan sighs, then tilts his bottle toward me before settling back in his chair. His smile is warm, his eyes bright despite the late hour. “See you tomorrow, Blackbird.”
With a final wave, I turn and head to my room.
I’m laying in bed, staring at the ceiling when my phone buzzes with a text message.
Nighty night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
I’m pretty sure there are bedbugs.
I grin in the dark. And then I fall asleep.
6
SUSANNAH
ROWAN
O n the downside, I still haven’t figured out who the hell we’re after.
On the upside, neither has Sloane.
Double plus: she hates it when I point that out.
I knock on Sloane’s door and shove my hands into my pockets, trying to look nonchalant despite the whirling storm of excitement that lights up my chest. When she opens it, her face immediately falls into a dark scowl.
“Expecting someone else?” I ask with a smirk.
“No,” she snorts, as though that’s the most ridiculous idea ever that some other fella might be wanting to come over at nine o’clock on a Thursday night. I guess the pickings are a little slim in the village of Ivydale. “I just know you’re here to gloat.”
I let out a theatrical gasp. “I would never.” My grin spreads and Sloane’s gaze drops to my lips. She likes to pretend she doesn’t really want to get to know me, but every time her eyes fuse to my scar, a little crease flickers between her brows. “If you let me in, I’ll tell you how I got that scar you can’t help but stare at.”
The look she gives me is one of pure horror. Blush crawls up her neck and brightens her cheeks. “I was not…I didn’t…” She huffs and raises her chin. “You’re the worst.”
All that fury combined with all that shyness, all her lethal ability wrapped in an easily-flustered package. She’s so fucking adorable. It takes everything in me not to laugh, and she can tell.
Sloane leans over the threshold, her fingers gripped to the edge of the door as she tries to keep me from seeing inside her room. Her furious gaze scours my face. “I’m a serial killer you know,” she hisses. “I could break into your room while you sleep and suck your eyeballs right out of your head with the industrial vacuum that Francis uses to clean the cat hair from the hideous lobby carpet.”
“I’m sure you could, Blackbird. No doubt.” My grin spreads and I raise my hands in a truce, though Sloane doesn’t seem convinced. “So, you gonna invite me in or what?”
“No, actually.” Sloane whips the key card from the holder next to the door and stuffs it in the back pocket of her jeans as she pushes past me. The door closes behind her with a loud click. “I’ve gotta be somewhere.”