Page 10 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

“What?” He looked up.

“On your phone.” She pointed. “You don’t have a phone case.”

“Don’t need one.” He slipped the device into his pocket.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll drop it? Shatter the screen?”

“Nah. Cases are too bulky. I like the feel of something sleek and slim in my hand.” He took Nat's hand again and squeezed. “Kinda like this.”

Fingers laced, they walked half a block in silence. He matched her gait, bobbing up and down as though he'd lost a heel. Natalie stopped and palmed her face.

“I look ridiculous, which in turn is making you look ridiculous. We don’t have to go dancing.”

“You think I look ridiculous?”

Before Natalie could respond, he’d kicked off one shoe, scooped it up, and hurled it over a high chain-link fence with NFL quarterback precision. Her mouth fell open at the thud that followed his throw. His shoe, gone. Completely irretrievable.

His blue eyes softened. "Now we’re even. Besides, with a face like yours, no one will be looking at your feet." He wiggled his socked toes. “You can do the honors with my other shoe, if you want. Or we can call it a night. Like I said, I don’t want you feeling pressured.”

Natalie stared at him. "First your tie and now your shoe? Are you always this reckless?"

"I prefer the term spontaneous.” He wiggled his toes again. “And maybe you're jealous my socks are cooler than yours."

"Concealment is everything," she said with an eye roll. “No club is going to let you in with one shoe and your tie hacked off.”

“It has to be the right club … and you have to know how to ask.”

They continued on until they reached an unmarked door on the side of a brick building. Mr. Crown opened it with a sly smile. “After you.”

Natalie didn’t move. Ahead, a dimly lit alcove led to a set of narrow, metal stairs. His expression shifted.

“Do you trust me? I have other ties, ones that don’t depict slaughter.”

This made her laugh.

“I promise. I’m one of the good guys,” he added.

“Which is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

“Maybe. But up those stairs is one of the coolest clubs in the whole city. Want to live on the edge and find out?”

Natalie frowned. “That’s not really my style.”

His face softened again. “Take a picture of me and text it to a friend. Send the location, too. That way, someone has my face and your exact coordinates.”

Only a good guy would offer to do that. And Emma and Kate can already track me on Find My …

“You won’t be offended?” she asked.

“Offended? It’s my idea.”

She pulled out her phone and texted Kate to keep an eye on her location. Kate replied instantly:

Kate: Exactly one martini, my ass. Go, Nat, go! But be safe please!

Natalie clicked the thumbs up icon on Kate’s message, then opened her camera. She snapped a photo of her mystery man, standing with one hip against the stair railing.

And something just for me. A little souvenir of the night.