Page 4 of Mountain Target

“It looks small. How many apartments are there?”

“Just two. The ground floor, which is the one we’re going to look at now. And the top floor, which is rented.”

She pushed the door open and Beau peered inside at the open-plan living space and kitchen.

No toilet.

That’s a good sign.

“Please,” she said, waving him inside.

The place wasn’t big, but at least it was furnished. That was a big plus in his book.

He peered inside the bathroom, relaxing when he found the toilet inside.

“There are two bathrooms,” she said proudly, in the same tone other people might use to talk about their children. “A small one out here, and another one inside the bedroom. An ensuite,” she added, lowering her voice, as if that were just the ultimate perk. “And check out this walk-in closet.”

This time, Beau didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Do I look like the kind of man who owns a lot of clothes?

Everything he owned, he could move in his truck, with plenty of space left over in case any of his team needed help with their own move.

“Right,” she said, looking almost disappointed in him—this customer who wasn’t excited by the walk-in closet. The frown was gone almost as soon as it’d arrived, though, and soon she was smiling again. “The windows are new,” she said. “Highest efficiency rating.”

That was good, at least. New windows meant less noise.

Beau listened for an instant. He couldn’t hear anything.

“Who did you say lives on the first floor?”

“I didn’t say,” the realtor said. Her bright smile was starting to get on his nerves. “But it should be written right here … yes, that’s it. The tenant’s been living there for two years. I remember her well. Very nice young woman. A doctor. Works at the hospital … all hours of the day and night, so she’s rarely home.”

Perfect.

Loud neighbors clomping on top of his head were right up there on Beau’s list of most hated things.

A doctor who worked long hours would probably be too tired to entertain much.

“All the furniture stays?” he asked.

The realtor’s smile grew wider, as if she could feel where this was going, and knew how close she was to closing the deal.

“Yes, certainly. All the furniture and kitchen appliances. If you want to see the ski room now—“

“No need. I’ll take it. When can I move in?”

She couldn’t smile any wider now, even if she tried. “Perfect. I’ve got all the paperwork right here,” she said, juggling that magic folder. “If we get it all done now, you could move in tomorrow.”

3

Valentina

Valentina Carrel applied a second, more generous layer of concealer under her eyes, cringing as the skin under her eyes tightened.

Better to look like a raccoon than to look like you spent all night crying.

She hadn’t spent all night crying—more like a third of the night.