“Hey, did you find anything?” Duke answered, skipping any formalities.
“That place hasn’t been touched in years,” Ben said. “Sorry—I know that’s probably not what you want to hear. But no one was there.”
Disappointment pressed on him. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Duke set his phone on the nightstand and sank onto his bed, letting the day replay in his mind. The open door at the hotel. The man in the lobby. The way that sense of being watched had flared earlier and then faded.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Andi.
Maybe he should have.
He turned slightly—and the hair at the back of his neck lifted without warning.
The feeling hit him hard and sudden.
Something was off.
Duke scanned the room again.
Nothing moved. No sound. No shadow out of place.
Still, the sensation didn’t fade.
His gaze dropped to the desk.
Something pale caught the light.
Duke stepped closer.
A folded cocktail napkin lay beside the lamp.
Crisp. Clean. Deliberate.
He hadn’t touched the desk since he’d checked the room when he first arrived. He knew that for certain.
Slowly, he unfolded it.
Inside, written in neat, careful handwriting, were four words:
Time is running out.
Duke’s jaw tightened, and he glanced around again.
Whoever had left this had been in Duke’s room.
He was close—close enough to come and go without being noticed.
This note and the drink at the restaurant hadn’t been warnings.
They’d been strategic moves.
He closed his eyes briefly, anger simmering beneath the calm he forced himself to maintain.
He crossed to the door and checked the deadbolt again, then the latch. Solid. Secure.
Tomorrow, they would dig deeper. Push harder.
