With a sigh, Evan relaxed and waited for his team to show up. He hated sitting still. It felt like he was wasting time. He could always store his bag with the concierge and come back for it later. Maybe they’d find Decker, and he could return to Texas tonight. He wouldn’t need a room. Or he could go down the street. There were half a dozen hotels in the vicinity. Surely, one of them had a room.
As he considered his options, his phone chimed with another text from Brantley.
Becs said you can share a room with her.
No.
No, no.
That wasn’t happening. No way did he trust himself in a room with her. Especially after their argument last night. He would rather camp in this chair for the foreseeable future.
Before he could argue his point, another message came from Brantley.
Leave your stuff with the concierge and meet us at the Monolith.
10-4.
Resigned to his fate, Evan got to his feet and headed back to the check-in desk.
***
“They told us nothin’, but they werenice enough,” Slade mused as Brantley stood in the apartment building’s lobby and processed the exchange they’d had with a very friendly yet ridiculously unhelpful concierge.
They’d come hoping to talk to Saoirse Kavanagh. According to the man with the radiant smile—it was fake, by the way—she wasn’t home. He didn’t buy that for a second, but Slade was right. The guy had seemed nice enough. He’d given them no information to help them, but he hadn’t seemed opposed to talking. Provided they didn’t ask anything personal about their esteemed resident. Whenever they mentioned Saoirse’s name, some of the light faded from his eyes.
Brantley’s phone buzzed. A text from Evan letting him know he had arrived.
He responded.
We’re finishing up at Saoirse’s apartment. She’s not home. Put your stuff in your room and meet us at the Monolith in thirty.
Can’t get a room. Hotel’s booked. I’ll take the couch in Slade’s room.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself.
All eyes turned to him.
“What’s wrong, boss?” Slade asked a second before his own phone buzzed.
“Evan’s here. They don’t have any available rooms.”
Brantley sent a follow-up message to Evan.
Shit. Slade’s sharing a room with Atticus. We’ll head back there. Give us twenty.
“What do you wanna do about it?” Reese asked from beside him.
“He can stay in my room,” Becs offered.
Everyone’s attention shifted to her.
She glanced at each of them. “What?”
“You wanna share a room with Evan?” Slade asked, chuckling.
“I didn’t say Iwantedto,” she replied. “But there is a sofa bed that’s not being used.”
Brantley shot another message to Evan.
