Hazel tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she followed Logan's motorcycle through the empty streets. Her instincts buzzed with excitement. He wasn't just storming off like a sulking lover. No—there was something secretive in the way he rode, something sharp and deliberate.
Finally, he pulled into a narrow alleyway and cut off the engine. Hazel parked her car a little farther away, slipping out quietly and keeping low as she trailed him on foot. Her heart pounded. This was it. She'd always known Logan Hayes wasn't as perfect as people painted him to be.
He stood there waiting, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. The streetlight barely lit his features, but the tension rolling off him was obvious. Hazel ducked behind a dumpster, her eyes wide.
Minutes passed. Then, a shadow emerged. A tall, rough-looking man with a scar cutting across his jaw stepped into the light. His clothes were shabby, his movements deliberate. Hazel held her breath, watching.
