Cole moved fast—scary fast. One second I was staring at the blinking mic in his hand, the next he was sweeping the room like a man searching for ghosts only he knew existed.
He yanked the curtains shut, checked the locks, then ran his fingers along the window frame. His jaw was locked tight enough to crack.
“Pack your things,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about surveillance,” he said, already pulling my bag from the closet. “Someone planted that mic inside our room. That means they’ve been here. While we were gone.”
All the air left the room.
“That’s—no. No, someone from town wouldn’t do that. They’re nosey, sure, but not… bug-your-room nosey.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “You’d be surprised what small-town friendliness hides.”
The way he said it sent a
