hotel. Music played softly in the elevator’s interior. A classic piece that he figured belonged to one of the old masters. His wife loved that kind of music. He wasn’t such a fan. Give him some hard and driving rock any day of the week. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Finally, he was able to escape from that music. The lush carpeting muffled his footsteps as he headed down the corridor. Genevieve Chevalier was in room 619. He’d agreed to take guard duty for Genevieve because he knew that Gunner wanted to stay close to Sydney. He could relate. Logan sure wished his Julie wasn’t so far away. He’d much rather be with her on the quiet beach in Biloxi than in— Genevieve’s door was ajar, and he could see the telltale red of blood on the beige carpet. Logan pulled his gun and rushed into the room. “Genevieve!” A chair was overturned. Bedcovers—bloody covers—were scattered on the floor.
