CHAPTER TWO

Kat Gentry sat in her car, her binoculars trained on the motel room across the parking lot, waiting for something juicy to happen.

As a private detective who had spent many long boring hours in cars watching the doors of motel rooms, hoping for a dramatic moment, she'd learned to temper her expectations. More often than not, nothing happened, and she often had to shut her surveillance down and try again later.

But this time felt different. It was fairly unusual for a bank vice president to check himself into a motel at nine in the morning, especially a cheap Hollywood motel, especially when he lived in the same city as the motel. But that's exactly what Craig Hartley had done fifteen minutes ago.

It was fairly suspicious behavior, which may have been why Hartley's wife, Claire, had hired Kat yesterday. She feared her husband was cheating, and based on his recent, unexplained credit card charges, the lingering scent of perfume on his skin when he came home at night, and what Claire described to Kat as his "all-around furtiveness," she might have real cause for concern. This morning motel check-in certainly didn't make him look good.

Kat re-adjusted in her seat as she settled in, unsure if or when a companion for Craig might arrive. This wasn't the classiest case she'd ever handled. She preferred ones that dealt with corporate espionage or embezzlement, but sometimes infidelity paid more. The client often had intense emotions and was willing to pay big for results. And right now, Kat could use the money.

After all, weddings didn't pay for themselves. And hers was imminent. In April, just four months from now, she would be marrying Mitch Connor. A few years ago, she hadn't imagined that she'd ever get married, much less to a warm-hearted Goliath.

After all, the injuries she sustained as an Army Ranger in Afghanistan didn't leave her looking like a beauty pageant contestant. They included multiple facial burn marks and a long scar that ran vertically down her left cheek from just below her eye, all the result of an IED. She knew those weren"t exactly aphrodisiacs, and she"d accepted that long-term romance might never happen for her.

But that was before she met Mitch while helping Jessie out on a case. He'd been a San Bernardino County Sheriff's deputy based in Lake Arrowhead, a mountain town eighty miles northeast of Los Angeles.

They"d hit it off and started dating long distance. Eventually Mitch left his deputy job and moved here, where they got an apartment together a few months ago. Until recently, Mitch had been working as a movie studio security guard while he waited for his approval to join the LAPD. The guard job didn"t pay great, and the stress of making the payments for all the assorted wedding costs was weighing on both of them.

But just this week, Mitch had learned that he'd been approved to join the force and would start at the beginning of the new year, in just three weeks. When he'd told her, his face was red and bashful, like a shy child telling a parent about the "A" he'd gotten on a test he thought he'd fail. It was adorable, as was he. The expression of giddy excitement had rarely left his face in the last few days.

It was great news, but news wasn't money, which was why Kat was sitting outside the Sunset Strip Motor Lodge at 9:17 on a Thursday morning, hoping that illicit carnal activity was imminent so she could record evidence of it. She got amped for a moment when she saw movement behind the curtains, but calmed down when she realized that it was only Hartley pulling them closed. By itself, the act meant little other than that he wanted privacy. The question was, how much and for what?

She readjusted the binoculars, then eased the car seat back a smidge. Her back was hurting as a result of the unpleasant time she'd spent in the company of Ash Pierce earlier this year, something she didn't like to think about.

In fact, she immediately forced her thoughts elsewhere, choosing to focus on the party that Jessie and Ryan were hosting this weekend. It was both an early holiday party and a belated engagement party for her and Mitch. Kat was excited for the evening.

It would allow her to bask in the romance a little, but also reconnect with folks she hadn't seen in a while, including the HSS gang, some of whom she'd gotten close to in recent months. Plus Jessie's little sister, Hannah, would be coming back from college for the event, and had promised to make something special, which was always welcome. The girl could really cook.

If she allowed herself to step back and look at the big picture, Kat had to admit that things were going about as well as she could hope these days. There was only one fly in the ointment, an unspoken sword of Damocles forever hovering over her head. And no matter how many happy thoughts she fixated on, it was still there, lingering patiently, waiting to drop.

Kat"s brooding was interrupted by movement at the motel. Walking up the stairs that led to Craig Hartley"s second-floor room was a skinny young woman with blonde hair. Despite the cold weather, she wore only a blue denim jacket over her pink top, along with a black miniskirt that exposed her pale legs. Through the binoculars, Kat could see that they were littered with small bruises.

She switched from the binoculars to her phone camera, turned on the video, and zoomed in as the woman stopped in front of Hartley's door and knocked. It only took moments for Hartley to answer. When he did, just his face was visible. There was no way to tell if he was still wearing the suit he'd arrived in or if he had changed into something more casual. He opened the door just enough for the woman to enter, then quickly closed it behind her.

Kat kept recording for a few seconds just in case there was an unexpected surprise. But when it became clear that the woman wouldn't be leaving right away, Kat shut off the camera and transitioned into active mode.

She got out of the car, shoved her phone in her coat pocket, and zipped it up to her neck before pulling the hood over her head. After locking the car, she walked quickly but calmly across the parking lot, making sure that the high-tech microphone in the inner pocket of her coat was secure.

She hurried up the stairs of the motel, ignoring the lingering aches in her hip, back, and shoulder, all leftover gifts from Ash Pierce's months-old torture session. Once up the stairs, she moved past Hartley's room, 206, to the one next door, 207. She pulled out the key to the room, which she had called and reserved from the motel office minutes after seeing Hartley check into 206, and stepped inside.

Then she locked the door and, without turning on the lights, got to work. If she was going to get her payday, she had a lot to do and quite possibly not much time to do it. The down payment for her honeymoon might only be one thin wall away.