Hooking Him (How to Catch an Alpha #3)(56)

“Just a sec.” I wait for Anna to pull on a pair of pants, and once she’s got them on, I go to the door and open it.

He steps forward, looking wired. “Hey, Anna, you good?” he asks.

“Yeah, Herb, you?”

“Been better, sweetheart,” he says, then looks at me. “I’ve been calling you for the last hour.”

“I must have left my cell in the truck last night. What’s going on?”

“We have another murder.” I glance at Anna and catch her wringing her hands together.

Fuck.

“Let’s talk outside,” I say, then look at Anna. “I’ll be right back, baby.” After I get her nod, I step outside and shut the door behind myself. “Where?”

“One of the hotels. The body’s been there a couple days. Housekeeping didn’t go in before today, because the ‘do not disturb’ sign was left on the door.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s bad.” He jerks his hand through the hair on his head, looking away. “The scene looks like something out of a horror movie. He was killed in the shower. It looks like he didn’t know it was coming and was stabbed multiple times in the back before he was able to try to defend himself, which was pointless, judging by the defensive wounds on his hands and chest.”

“Let me get dressed, make sure Anna’s okay, and then I’ll meet you. Send me the address,” I say and then shake my head, remembering I don’t know where my cell is, and if it’s not in my truck, I’ll be driving around to every hotel in town. “Never mind. What hotel is it?”

He rattles off the hotel and room; then, with not much of a goodbye, he disappears down the stairs. I pull in a breath, then turn and open the door.

“You have to go,” Anna says as soon as I step inside.

“Yeah, baby, I gotta go.” I grab my shirt off the end of the bed and shrug into it, then pick up my shoes and take a seat to put them on. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but it’d help me out if you met with the designer for the kitchen. It took a couple weeks to get that appointment. If you can’t, I can ask Mom.”

“I’ll go,” she says as she walks to the kitchen, where she pours a cup of coffee into a travel mug. “I’ll explain you had to work and see if they can reschedule.” She brings me the cup, and I take it as I stand.

“You know what I want to do, baby, and if you have ideas, give it to them. Just let them know so they can start getting quotes on the job.”

She looks a little unsure, but still she says, “Okay.”

“Thanks.” I plant a quick kiss on her lips, then head toward the door, stopping with my hand on the knob to look at Bane.

“He’s good. I can take him with me.”

“If you find my cell around here, call Mom. She’s got Herb’s number. If it’s in my truck, where I think it is, I’ll call you when I can.”

“I’ll see you at home,” she says simply, and it’s that constant easy acceptance of my job that proves why she’s not just right for me but perfect for me in every way.

“I’ll see you at home.” I kiss her once more and then leave, forcing myself not to think about her, the life we’re building, or anything else that doesn’t have to do with the man whose life was taken sometime within the last couple of days.



I park in the lot of the hotel and get out of my truck before sending Anna a text to let her know I’ve got my cell so she doesn’t go searching for it. I walk past the two cruisers parked outside along with the crime scene van and enter the lobby, not stopping to talk with the uniformed officers talking near the front desk. I go to the elevator, and once it opens, I get in and press the button for the fifth floor. I follow the signs to the room and spot Herb outside on the phone, near the door. When he sees me, he ends the call and comes toward me.

“Fill me in,” I say, and he turns to walk at my side.

“Victim is Paul Bieben, forty-two, married with three kids, in town on business. His wife spoke to him two days ago when his flight landed, and he told her that he was going to check into his hotel and rest but would call her before he went to bed.”

“Did he call?”

“No, she said she sent him a couple messages but didn’t hear back from him. She said that wasn’t unusual, but when he didn’t call the next day, she started to get worried and tried calling him. He didn’t answer, so she tried the hotel and was told no one under that name was staying there.”

“Is this the hotel he told her he was staying at?”

“No, and the room isn’t under his name. It was booked under the name Andy Storm.”

“Was he having an affair?”

“His wife said they’ve had issues with infidelity in the past. That’s why she stopped looking for him when she called the hotel and found out he wasn’t there, and she decided to pack up her kids and drive from Georgia to Florida, where her sister lives.”

“Do you believe her?” I ask, knowing jealousy can make people act out of character.

“Yeah,” he says as we stop outside the open door to the hotel room, and he hands me a pair of shoe covers and gloves.

“Are you ready?”

“We’re never ready,” I admit as we walk into the room and past the bathroom, where I see police photographer Jim Jenkins taking photos. “Let me know when you’re done,” I call into the bathroom, not wanting to get in his way but still seeing spots of blood on the walls, along with red smeared around the sink and on the floor.