Don’t Play With Odin by Cynthia Eden

Chapter Three

“Maisey. It’s me.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

Odin.

The big, menacing shadow was Odin. Of course, it was. And those were Odin’s slightly callused fingertips closing around her wrist.

But why was Odin in her bedroom? On her bed?

“We’ve got a situation.”

They did? She focused on breathing. Big, heaving breaths as her heart galloped in her chest.

“Our perp is on the move.”

Her gaze cut to the bedside table. The glowing numbers on her clock told her it was 1:47 a.m. An odd time for her neighbor to be taking a drive.

“He just loaded up the back of his car with one big-ass duffel bag.”

“OhmyGod.” Now her hand twisted so that she was the one holding onto him. “The kind of bag that you use to hide a body?” she whispered.

“Okay, so, when I said don’t make a sound, I really just meant don’t scream. You don’t have to whisper. It’s just us.”

Maisey cleared her throat and repeated, “The kind of bag that you use to hide a body?”

“Or the kind of bag you use when you’ve just packed up all of your shit because you know that you’re suspected of a serious crime and you want to make a run for it.”

Yes, fine, that, too.

“I’m going over there,” Odin announced. He stood. Pulled his hand from hers. “I just didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone. Didn’t want you, ah, worrying or something.”

She jumped out of bed, too. “You mean we’re going over there.” Her t-shirt brushed over her thighs. “Just let me get some pants.” Pants. Shoes. Maybe a weapon. No, definitely a weapon. She tried to spring past him and rush toward her closet. She kept a baseball bat at the ready in there.

His arm curled around her and pulled her back against him. “Oh, fuck.” He let her go as if he’d been burned. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“No, I’m not. I’m wearing a t-shirt and panties because I was sleeping and I like to be comfortable while I sleep and—”

“Fuck,” he said again.

“Give me two minutes, and I’ll be dressed.” Once more, she sprang for the closet.

“You’re staying here. If he’s a killer, then I don’t want you in his line of sight. I just wanted you to know where I was going.”

He was benching her? She’d just flipped on the light in her closet.

“Turn the light off,” Odin ordered. “We don’t want him knowing we’re awake over here.”

She flipped the light right back off.

“Lock the front door behind me. I have to go, now. He went back into his house, probably to grab more belongings, and I need to get over there before our guy races away.”

Odin’s shadowy form was moving for her bedroom door. Maisey bounded after him. She bounded so fast that she bumped into his back.

“Panties,” he growled.

“Um, what about them?” She was wearing them. She’d assured him of that already.

He didn’t speak. Just stalked through her house in the darkness and didn’t even stumble. Meanwhile, she was clinging tightly to the back of his t-shirt and trying not to trip with every step.

“Bet they are sexy as fuck,” Odin finally muttered.

Her cheeks flushed. Her panties were so not. They were white and plain, but she made a mental note to purchase some sexy underwear. Especially if Odin was going to be all curious about them.

She heard the faint sound of an engine. “He’s trying to get away!”

“The hell he is.” Odin yanked open the front door and rushed into the night.

***

The car had just whipped into the road. A sporty red Mustang. Odin realized the headlights were off. Just another mark against old Clay Prescott. Because who the hell drove away in the middle of the night with the headlights off?

The bad guy, that was who.

Odin thought he’d have to give chase, and he was already preparing to hop in his Jeep—a recent purchase that he’d gotten for a steal after the big case with War’s lady—but then Clay braked his car. He jumped out. Ran back to the house.

Seriously? He’d forgotten something else?

And the dick had just left his car idling in the street.

Fine. If he wanted to make things easy on Odin, that was cool.

Odin hurried toward the vehicle. The dumbass had left the keys in the ignition. Odin glanced toward the front of Clay’s house, then helped himself to those keys. The car’s engine fell silent, and the quiet on the street felt deafening.

Odin took the keys around to the trunk. Pushed the trunk release lever and had the back swinging up. He stared at the giant duffel bag and remembered Maisey’s words.

The kind of bag that you use to hide a body?

The bag was certainly lumpy in the way that could indicate a body was inside. The left side even appeared to be round like…like maybe with the shape of a head. Hell, he really did not want to find a dead body in that bag.

But he had to look and see.

He leaned forward and tugged down the zipper. The round object rolled right out—

“What in the hell are you doing?” Clay Prescott called.

More round objects rolled out and slid around the trunk. Basketballs. The duffel bag had been full of freaking basketballs.

“You left your car running in the middle of the night.” Odin’s fingers curled around the keys he held. “I was worried. Especially when I saw the trunk was open and you were nowhere to be seen.”

“The trunk was open?” Clay ducked his head to peer inside. “Dammit, the balls fell out again.” He scrambled to push them back into the bag.

Odin slid to the right. He saw that Clay had what looked like whistles hanging out of the right pocket of his jogging pants. “Going to coach a game?” he asked, voice mild. At almost two a.m.?

“I volunteer at the community center. The kids have a practice at seven in the morning, but I have a flight I have to catch at four. The assistant coach is going to cover for me.” He zipped up the bag. “I realized I had all the equipment, so I was going to drop it off.” Clay shoved back from the vehicle. “Are those my keys you’re holding?”

“Took them out when I realized the car was on, but no one was inside.” Odin tossed the key fob back to Clay. “Going out of town, huh? Where are you heading?”

Clay slammed the trunk. “Why the hell are you out here at this time of night?”

“Because my girlfriend had a break-in at her place hours ago.” And you’re my fucking chief suspect. Instead of saying that, Odin added, “I woke up to the sound of an engine running only there were no headlights turned on for the vehicle. Seemed like someone was trying to be sneaky outside. So I investigated.”

“Ah…girlfriend, huh? No more ‘special friend’ BS?” Clay blew out a hard breath. “Figured she’d be with someone.” He cast a fast glance toward Maisey’s place. “And look, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. Okay, I mean…I kinda was. I didn’t want to wake her or anything so I was keeping the lights off so they wouldn’t shine through her window.”

Clay still hadn’t told Odin where he was heading. Odin had seen a small, overnight bag in the rear seat, so it obviously wasn’t a big trip.

“It’s a memorial service,” Clay muttered. “An old friend of mine…it’s been ten years since Hannah…um, since her death. I’m flying up to Tennessee to pay my respects, then coming back late Sunday night.”

Ten years? Exactly? Maisey hadn’t mentioned that. Anniversaries were often very significant for perps.

“Now, if you don’t mind…” Clay moved toward the driver’s side. “I need to get going. Lots to do before my flight.”

“Sure thing.” He took up a position on the sidewalk. “Have a good trip. Oh, and Clay?”

Clay had just started to slide into the vehicle. At Odin’s words, he paused.

“My condolences on your friend. Even after ten years, I’m sure it still hurts.”

“Not as much as you might think.” Clay slid inside. Slammed the door.

Drove away.

Not as much as you might think. That was one cold-ass thing to say. But then, Odin was starting to think that Clay Prescott was one cold-ass man. Odin stood there until the vehicle left the street. He saw Clay turn on his lights just as he turned right.

When he was sure the other man was gone, Odin slowly pulled his hand from his pocket. Before he’d tossed the keys back to Clay, he’d taken the liberty of keeping one key for himself.

The key to Clay’s house.

He heard footsteps rustling behind him. At least Maisey had waited until Clay left before making an appearance. And, please, be wearing pants. Because the mental image of Maisey just in her t-shirt and panties was more than enough to have his over-eager dick springing to attention.

“Since you let him go, I’m guessing there wasn’t a body in the trunk?” Her low voice teased his ears.

He turned toward her. “Basketballs. Your serial killer next door volunteers at the community center and coaches basketball.”

“I knew that. He also works in a soup kitchen once a month and has a free tutoring program at the college.” She inched closer. “So either the man is a saint or he is really good at hiding his true self. Ted Bundy was good at fooling people, too, you know.” She put her hands on her hips. Jean-clad hips, thank Christ. She was dressed.

And he was…mostly glad.

A horny-as-hell part of him was sad.

“Why was he taking basketballs out in the middle of the night?”

“Because your killer has a four a.m. flight. He’s dropping them off at the community center on his way to the airport.” A pause. “Turns out, it’s the tenth anniversary of his…friend’s death. He’s heading back to Tennessee to pay his respects.”

“Hannah,” she breathed the name. “It has been ten years.”

“He won’t be back until Sunday night, so that gives us plenty of time…” He lifted his hand. The moonlight and starlight overhead would provide just enough light for her to see what he held. “To search his house.”

“How did you get the key?” Maisey definitely sounded impressed.

Good. “I’m a professional.” Though, stealing from suspects was probably not what most professional PIs did. Oh, well. He was still new to the biz. “You want to take a look inside?”

“Yes. Absolutely one hundred percent, yes.”

He headed for Clay’s house.

She grabbed his arm. Pressed her body against his. “But is this legal?”

“Of course, not.”

“Odin…”

Now she seemed all nervous. “You don’t have to come in with me. I can do a sweep on my own.”

“No, I am definitely coming in with you. But if we get caught, I’m taking the fall, got it? This is all happening because of me. So if we set off some sort of alarm or if the cops catch us—or anything like that, I’ll take full responsibility. I will not drag you down with me.”

Cute. He lightly ran the back of his knuckles over her face. As if she’d have to drag him anywhere.

She leaned toward him. “I’ve never committed a B&E before.”

Hardly surprising. The woman screamed sunshine and baked cookies and innocence. Meanwhile, hell, he’d had all too much experience with the darker side of life. “Just stay close to me. I’ll take care of you.”

She did stay close. Stuck to him like glue as they slipped inside. There was no security system at Clay’s house. No exterior cameras. There had only been two keys on the fob—the key to the car and the key to the house. Taking it had been easy. Everything about the set-up was easy, and that very easiness sent off warnings in Odin’s head.

Did he want me inside? Had everything been a set-up?

A quick search was showing no obvious clues that could help them. Not like Odin expected a giant red sign that would shout EVIDENCE, but it would have been nice. Instead, the man’s house was stocked with only the smallest bit of furniture. His clothes were haphazardly tossed into his closet and onto the floor of his bedroom. Odin turned up no weapons. No body disposal items, nothing that would—

He heard an engine.

“Uh, Odin?” Maisey bumped into him. “Did you hear that?”

He’d heard that and he was peeking through the blinds to see— “He’s back.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Back and heading toward the house and dammit, maybe this had been a clever set-up. The guy was rushing back to catch them in the act. But…

No time to get out. Just protect Maisey. He grabbed her hand and pushed her toward the open closet.

He also deliberately dropped the key to the house. Let it fall to the floor, after he did a quick wipe with his shirt to smudge any would-be prints.

“Wait!” Maisey cried. “We need to get—”

He slid into the closet with her. Pulled the door shut.

“Oh, this is tiny,” Maisey murmured. “Or maybe you’re just really big. Yes, that’s it, of course. You’re super big, so you make small spaces seem even smaller and—”

Maisey talked when she was nervous. She was obviously super nervous and her talking was going to be a problem because they’d left the front door unlocked and now Clay was back inside. The hardwood floors were groaning beneath his feet.

“He’s going to find us. I’ll take the blame, just like I said, but, if he’s the killer, he will—”

Odin kissed her.