Karlyn snorted, her fisted hands coming to rest on her waist. “First of all, I ran all the time in Central Park. That’s big, bad New York City, Detective. I’ve taken a self-defense course. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
She glanced down at the lab. “And if you haven’t noticed, I do have a running partner. This is Hugo.”
“I know Hugo. The entire town knows Hugo.” Logan reached down and scratched between the dog’s ears. “He’s the sweetest mutt around. If someone attacked you, Hugo wouldn’t be much help.”
“No one will come near me, Logan Warner. I’m fast when I turn the speed on. If Roy G. Biv were after me, my adrenaline rush would make me fly.”
Karlyn placed a hand on his arm. “I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you. But Roy isn’t going to tackle me and paint me in public. Can I move on?”
She saw he still struggled, his face pained.
“I worry about you, Karlyn. That’s all.”
She squeezed his arm. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me. No one has in a long time.”
“Would you like to go for a motorcycle ride tonight?” he asked out of the blue. “When I’m troubled, I take my bike out and think.”
Her insides coiled in anticipation. Her body next to his. Her arms wrapped around his waist. “I’d like that.”
He grinned. “Seven? We could grab a burger while we’re out.”
“Only if it has cheese on it. And tons of grilled onions.”
“I can manage to find us a burger joint.” Logan patted Hugo’s head. “Take care of her, boy. Don’t let her do anything too crazy.”
Karlyn took off. Hugo fell into step as she ran down Main Street. It was sweet that he worried about her safety. Mario never had. Her parents hadn’t, either. Other than Alicia worrying about Karlyn hitting her deadlines, she couldn’t think of the last time someone had been concerned about her.
She smiled. Logan Warner might be a little bossy, but in a good way. Now her biggest problem was thinking how to avoid hat hair when she took off her helmet tonight.
Chapter 18
Logan glanced in the mirror and ran a comb through his hair. “I may not be as good-looking as Matt Collins, but I make up for it with my sparkling personality,” he said aloud.
He picked up Karlyn’s latest book, featuring her famous private investigator. He wanted her to autograph the hardback, but he had nowhere to put it since they were taking the Harley out.
Logan turned the book over. Karlyn’s emerald green eyes shone with a little bit of mischief and a whole lot of sex appeal. Her picture alone revved his pulse up.
And the lady could kiss. He thought of their brief encounter in his car and hoped they could repeat that—and more—tonight. Her slender, athletic body snuggled next to his on the bike would probably ignite flames that people could see from here to Lexington.
Logan tossed the book aside and grabbed his keys. He locked the apartment and headed down to the diner, moving fast. He didn’t want to stop to talk with any customers. He was too eager to see Karlyn.
“Hey, sugar pie. Heard you might need my autograph. And it’s chicken and dumplings tonight.”
Mandy stood behind the counter, her eyes dancing with a come-hither look as she rested a hand on her hip. Logan hated squashing her hopes. She always had a ready smile for him and practically begged him to ask her out with those baby blues on a regular basis.
“I’d love for you to sign my petition, Mandy, but I don’t have it with me. I’ll bring it next time.” He raised a hand to wave goodbye.
“Logan Warner, your political consultant would have your head,” she scolded.
He shot her a look. “I don’t have a political consultant.”
“Well, you do now,” she said. “First, don’t look like you’re in such a hurry when you’re talking to a potential voter. Stop. Chat. Smile. Even flirt a little.”
“Flirt?”
“Yes, flirt. You’re a nice-looking man, Logan. That’ll win you votes. Plus, politics means power, and power is an attractive thing to a woman. And always keep your petition with you. You never know who you’ll run into. I won’t even charge you for the advice.”
“You’ll want your name listed on my campaign website?”
“Head political consultant.” Mandy smiled. “I like the ring of that. So get the petition, will you?”
Logan saluted her and headed back upstairs. He would get his list and pick up a helmet for Karlyn, which he’d forgotten. Of course, his new head political consultant would wring out of him that he was taking a female friend for a ride. That tidbit would spread like wildfire over town.
He grinned. If he set up a table on the square tomorrow, he guaranteed a couple dozen would stop by to find out what was brewing between him and Karlyn.
He might as well get their signatures at the same time.
Logan folded the petition and slid it into his inner jacket pocket. He found the extra helmet and returned to the diner.
Presenting Mandy with the petition, she whipped out a pen from her apron and signed it with a flourish.
“Hmm. Extra helmet. Are you offering free rides for signatures?”
“Would that be a good idea?”
She studied him. “You’re freshly showered because you’re hair’s still damp.” She breathed in. “A hint of cologne. I’d say our next chief of police has a date with that writer I’ve heard about.”
“You’re right. Shouldn’t that raise my profile with the voters, Madam Consultant?”
“Only if you’ll get out of here and let me spread a little gossip, honey.” Mandy’s eyes skimmed the café. “Hmm. I spy Casey Attaway.” She grinned. “I think I’ll go pour him some more coffee.”
Logan exited the diner. And bumped into Seth Berger.
“Evening, Warner.”
“Berger.”
He viewed his colleague with new eyes since they were now opponents in the race.
What he saw didn’t wow him. Berger was lanky. A little under six feet, with a walrus mustache and mud-brown eyes. He rarely smiled, probably to hide his crooked front teeth. He was a loner. Divorced for a decade with no children. Kept to himself—at work, at church, and in his leisure hours. Berger liked to hunt and fish, but always alone.
Maybe that’s why Logan thought he was missing the trust factor. Usually small town police were friendly with fellow officers and townsfolk alike. They had a bond and enjoyed service to others.
Berger rarely spoke to anyone. He went out of his way not to speak at the station. He liked working cases alone, with no input from his colleagues. Seth Berger trusted no one; no one on the force seemed to trust him.
“Heard you’re running for chief,” Berger ground out.
“You heard right.”
“I’m expecting a fair fight.”
“I wouldn’t give you any other kind.”
Berger’s eyes narrowed. “Let the best man win.” He brushed past Logan to enter the diner but turned back.
“If I win, I’ll expect your resignation. Don’t need wannabes in the Springs. I don’t care where you go. Maybe run to Fountain Valley with your little pal Rick Mabry. But I don’t want you here. Understood?”
“You’ll have to win. I don’t aim for that to happen.” Logan hurried away, anger seething as he cut down the alley to his bike.
Resign?
Like hell. He planned to win. Big. Seth Berger be damned.
Logan pulled up and saw Karlyn waiting for him on the porch swing. She came down the steps, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Tight jeans molded to her hips and butt left little to his imagination.
She reached for the helmet he offered and swung it onto her head.
“I am starving, Warner, so this h
amburger joint better be good.”
“Then we’ll eat first and cruise after.”
Karlyn snapped the strap in place and threw her leg over the bike. She snaked her arms around his waist and locked her fingers together. Her floral perfume wafted around him, revving up his own engine.
“Hang on,” he warned. “We’re gonna fly.”
Logan gunned the motor and enjoyed the rush of wind that came. The open road. A beautiful woman nestled against him. It had the makings of a perfect night.
They arrived at Aunt Ju’s fifteen minutes later. He killed the motor and let Karlyn climb off before he did. She lifted the helmet, her smile broad.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. I might have to buy one.”
Logan gave her an appraising look. “A bike virgin, huh?” He stroked the seat of his Harley. “This is the best baby on the road, but it takes a lot to control her. You might want to stick to your convertible.”
“It’s rented. I don’t own a car. I need to think about that.”
Logan escorted her inside, where a jukebox played country tunes and over half the red vinyl booths were filled. “Have you made any plans about where you’ll end up?” He waited, on edge, hoping to hear that she was staying put.
Karlyn nodded. “I need a clean break with my past. Plus, I want to know Mother better.” She brightened. “Maybe I can establish residency and vote for you in the next election.”
“I’ll need every vote I can get, but let me try to win this one first.” He described his encounter with Seth Berger after they were seated.
“What an asshole. Could he force your resignation? Or fire you?” She bit her lip. “I mean, not that I think you’ll lose.”
Logan laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. He’d need plenty of documentation to fire me. But he could create an uncomfortable work environment that made me want to leave voluntarily.”
She shuddered. “He gives me the creeps. Mother pointed him out at the hardware store. We went to get keys cut for me. He was buying paint and fertilizer. I told her who knows—he could be the Rainbow Killer.”
“You’ve got a vivid imagination, Karlyn. I know it serves you well in your writing, but Seth Berger a killer? Come on. I’d like to think Roy G. Biv had a personality.”
They ordered and Karlyn asked, “What can you tell me about this latest murder? I could tell it upset you.”
He leaned his arms back against the edge of the booth. “I knew the latest victim when we were kids. She was a good person. It’s hard to believe she’s gone. Especially in such a brutal way.”
Karlyn leaned closer. “I scoured the Internet looking for info on the cases. I can’t find any kind of link between the victims. They vary in age. Ethnicity. Occupations. The only thing consistent is Roy working his way through the colors of the rainbow. In order.”
Logan nodded. “Cops are baffled. They’ve tried establishing connections between the vics. Three and eight joined the same health club. Two were gay but didn’t have any friends in common. Three were Baptist, but in Georgia that’s nothing new. They worked in different areas, belonged to different libraries, had varying incomes. No obvious connections.”
The server arrived with their platters and beers. Karlyn bit into her Swiss mushroom burger. “Grilled onions on a burger should be a national law.”
“The fries are pretty amazing,” Logan added as he doused his in ketchup.
Karlyn returned to Roy. “He must be strong since several victims have been strangled. That’s not an easy death to pull off, especially with the size of some of the male victims. I know that from my research.”
Logan put his burger down. “Can I count on your professional discretion? This goes no further.”
“Of course. He’s escalated, hasn’t he?”
He admired how perceptive she was. “He slashed Jeanine’s throat. His previous scenes have been gruesome. But pristine. This was messy.” He paused. “He also took a trophy for the first time.”
“That makes sense. Serial killers usually do. I was surprised Roy never had. Or with the previous victims he took some personal item from them, and it hasn’t been discovered yet. But was she still painted?”
“Yes. Yellow, just as the sequence required. That part hadn’t changed.”
“So two murders outside of Atlanta now. That means new jurisdictions that’ll need to coordinate. Mortonville and Fountain Valley. All that bureaucracy will make him harder to catch.”
Logan agreed. “We have no description. None of the vics was seen with anyone prior to their murders. And now he’s started collecting trophies. It doesn’t look good for catching him.”
“Do you think he’s starting to lose control?”
“I have no idea.” He sighed. “How did we start such pleasant dinner conversation?”
Karlyn shrugged. “It’s fascinating to me. It’s my life.”
“As long as you don’t try to write it as true crime. Roy’s been slick enough to avoid the law this long. You don’t want to go up against a clever monster like that.”
“I’ve never delved into true crime before. Right now, I don’t have time to think about it.”
“Have you finished your screenplay?”
Her face lit up. “Yes. Chris gave it a final read and said it passed his litmus test. I’ve sent it to my agent. I also have a manuscript close to completion. I’ll finish that novel before I consider my next project.”
“Chris seemed like a decent guy.”
“He gave me perfect suggestions and let me do most of it on my own. I would kill to work with him again.”
He laughed. “Mom would love to have Warren Newlin visit again. Do you know he stopped by her shop and did free cuts? He invited her to his Atlanta salon. She can’t wait to go and watch him give Jennifer Lawrence or Jennifer Aniston or Jennifer Lopez a trim and blow-dry. She says he’s the It Guy as far as the stars are concerned.”
They moved away from the murders and discussed life in Walton Springs. Karlyn expressed interest in visiting Anne Stockdale’s antiques store, as well as eating at the diner.
“I’ve heard it’s the best food this side of the Mississippi. Of course, I can think of a few New York critics that might differ with that opinion.”
“Nelda would let her food do the talking. Of course, she’s never been bashful about her cooking.”
“She’s your mom’s best friend, right?”
“They’ve been thick as thieves since the sandbox. It’s like having two moms.”
Karlyn pushed her empty plate back. “I’m stuffed.”
“No dessert? Remember, I’m a chocoholic.”
“Maybe after we ride around. We could pull into Dairy Queen for a chocolate sundae or cone.”
“I have a better idea.” He paid the check, and they climbed on the bike again. The evening had turned cool. Logan knew he took a big risk, but this woman had gotten under his skin.
The worst she could do was say no.
The best would be a huge yes.
He tooled down the highway a few minutes and then pulled into a small parking lot. He cut the engine and waited a beat.
“The Cavalier Motel.” Her voice was low. Her arms still locked around him. He could sense the tension scrolling through her.
Logan got off the bike. Lifted her off. Pulled her to him. Heard the hitch in her breath.
“I haven’t slept with anyone since my wife. I’ve never pulled into a no-tell motel on a first date.” He drew her close. “But my blood races every time I’m around you, Karlyn Campbell. You’re all I think about. I want to taste you. Touch every inch of you. But the ball’s in your court.
Dessert—or no dessert? The choice is up to you.”
Chapter 19
His words scared K
arlyn to death.
But she’d wanted him from the beginning.
He gave her control now. She could say thanks—but no thanks—and they’d ride back to Walton Springs. He might call again. Or he might not.
She wouldn’t take that chance.
Karlyn had never been a risk-taker. She enjoyed being a perfectionist. Making lists. Leading a normal, ordinary life. Her adventures came through Matt or her other characters.
Here was a chance to be the real-life heroine in her own story.
He didn’t have to ask twice.
She unstrapped her helmet and tossed it to the ground. He met her challenge and did the same. She pushed up on tiptoes and wrapped her hands around his neck. Pulled his lips down to hers.
And kissed him with everything she had.
Her blood heated as the kiss grew urgent. Their lips warred with one another, seeking, demanding. His hands pushed into her hair, kneading her scalp. She clung to his shoulders, not sure if she had the strength to stand on her own if he released her.
Logan pulled his mouth from hers, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wanna get a room?”
“Yes.” The effort getting out the single syllable left her spent.
He released her. Reached down for their helmets. Gave her a smile that made her insides tingle with anticipation.
Five minutes later, they entered a clean, nondescript room. Logan pitched their helmets aside as she put the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob and locked the door. She turned. He moved into her space. His hands flattened against the door on both sides of her. His body pressed against hers as his lips met hers.
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