going to help, fine. She’d jump right to business.
“Sure.”
“Do you work closely with him?”
“Not really.”
“Has he asked you to approve anything recently? New vendors or special payments?”
“No.”
Nora tried a different tack, one that made her pulse tick up. “Gregg took a trip to Atlanta recently.”
“Gregg takes a lot of trips. He’s happiest on the road, when he has the illusion of progress.”
It was the most information Logan had volunteered since they’d sat in the steam room together, before she’d known who Nora was. Nora wished now that she’d made better use of her anonymity.
“What progress do you think he made in Atlanta?”
Logan stepped closer, staring Nora down with a look as lethal as any punch. Nora’s arms tensed as she moved backward toward the ropes. The phone grew slick in her palm.
“I know he found a puppet.”
“Who?” She waited for the name to form, dreading the possibility that it might be her own and she’d have to hear it like this—without her suit, without her briefcase, without any of the tools she used to distance herself. She fought to keep her breath steady, feeling a hundred times more naked than she had sitting in that steam room.
The seconds dragged out and Logan still didn’t answer the question. Had she even asked it out loud? The music reverberated in her chest and the lights glinted off Logan’s narrowed eyes until, unable to bear the intensity of the focus, Nora ran a hand nervously over her mouth.
Logan’s lip twitched and then, without warning, she burst out laughing.
“What?”
“Daze and Dare are gonna be pissed.”
It took Nora a second to realize she was talking about the stylist twins, and another second to register that she’d probably just ruined her face. “Oh.”
“Come on.”
Logan pulled her back through the glittering ropes and behind the column of body bags, leading her into a locker room and the giant mirrors by the sinks.
Nora blinked. The woman standing next to Logan was … not her. Everything about her gleamed, from the sleek curtain of hair to the golden eye shadow to the skin that shimmered beneath the flowing asymmetrical dress, everything, that is, except the smear of lipstick trailing down her cheek and chin.
Logan grabbed a towel and threw it at her, laughing.
“Not my usual look.”
“It’s hot.”
“Right.” Nora hid her face in the towel and scrubbed.
“It’s a lot goddamn hotter than whatever Gregg thinks Merritt Osborne would bring to this company.” Logan swiveled to lean against the counter, facing away, their shoulders almost brushing. “He told me about her as soon as he got back from Atlanta. He was all … excited, energized. I hadn’t seen him like that in a long time.”
Nora stopped scrubbing.
“He thought he’d found the perfect solution to the problem I’d made. And then …”
Nora followed Logan’s eyes to a spot on the floor next to the lockers and she froze, realizing for the first time where they were. The police photos swarmed into her vision and the towel, now stained with blotches of red, felt like a dead thing in her hands.
Logan swallowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The report on Aaden’s death said that Logan had been one of the first people on scene. Had she stood in this exact spot, staring at the body of the fighter she’d spent so much time with? What else had died for her that day?
A noise from the party seemed to snap Logan back from whatever memory had swamped her. Standing, she walked to a door that looked like a storage closet, badged it open, then glanced at Nora before disappearing through it.
Nora didn’t think. She dropped the towel and caught the door right before it slammed shut. On the other side she found herself in Strike headquarters with Logan’s back receding down a far hallway. By the time she caught up to her, Logan had stopped outside a cubicle that looked no different than any of the others in the area.
Nora looked closer, scanning piles of magazines and a set of hand weights cluttering the papers on the desk. An empty cup was crusted over, its leftover liquid long evaporated. Dust covered the monitor and the badge hanging across it showed a dark, unsmiling face. Nora knew that face. She’d seen its last expression.
“I haven’t let anyone touch this space since he died. I know it’s stupid—he didn’t even spend that much time at his desk—but it’s all I have left of him.” A muscle twitched in Logan’s jaw and