Nixx
Benny was already in my motel room when I got back.
He sat at the narrow table beneath the window with his laptop open, a paper bag beside his elbow, and two coffees between printed records. The curtains were closed except for the gap I had left facing the lot. He had not widened it or parked anywhere visible.
There were reasons I had sent the plate to him instead of anyone else.
“You break into rooms often?” I asked, locking the door.
“Only when the occupant ignores four texts and sleeps with a gun under the pillow.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“That was my second guess.”
He pushed one coffee toward the empty chair.
I sat and took it. No sugar. A little cream. Hot enough to burn.
Benny watched me swallow, then studied my face.
“When did you last sleep?”
“Last night.”
“For how l
