His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 332 The Whistler

Logan

The air in the room was thick with tension as I strode in, my gaze fixated on the man I had trusted the most-James, my chief bodyguard and the one person who I put in charge of keeping an eye on Ella all those weeks ago when I found out about the men who harassed her in the park.

There were moments in life where words weren’t required to convey the depth of one’s anger, and this was one of those moments. My face, I knew, was an open book of seething fury.

“James.” My voice was colder than the north wind in winter. “I trusted you with one thing. ONE thing. To keep an eye on her. How could you let this happen?”

James, despite his tall frame and muscular build, appeared smaller under my gaze. “I’m sorry, Logan,” he muttered, genuine remorse evident in his tone. “They moved faster than we anticipated. I managed to trail them a bit though.”

I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath to prevent myself from completely losing it. Ella’s safety had become more than just a duty; it was personal. “And?” I pressed, my voice dripping with impatience,

“I got a license plate number,” he announced, pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket and extending it toward me.

I snatched it from his hand, scanning the scribbled digits and letters. This was good, very good. Even a single piece of concrete information could be the key to unlocking this puzzle.

“This is valuable, James,” I conceded with a nod. “I hope you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“I do,” he said, eyes downcast. “And I’m ready to make amends.”

I turned away from him, addressing the group of men assembled around. “Gather up. We’ve got a lead. Let’s not waste time.”

After a quick search using my connections, the license plate was traced to an owner in the city -a certain Daniel Lawson, a name I hadn’t heard of. But names meant little in the city’s underbelly; aliases and pseudonyms were more common than true identities. Before I could leave, though, Mrs. Wentworth’s voice caught my attention.

“Logan. Here. Now.”

swung around to see the old housekeeper striding toward me. She had been working for me for so long that she was like a mother to me. I

child who had come home after playing in the mud. “You’re going out again, aren’t you? With those men of

“There’s something I need to take care

fussing over me like a mother hen. “You always have something to take

her a light peck on her cheek. “I’ll be fine,

a step back, her gaze piercing. “That young lady-Ella-she’s quite the beauty,

shift in topic, I replied, “Yes, she is.” I

cares for you deeply, Logan. More than you realize, or perhaps more than you

hint of amusement creeping into my voice. “Mrs. Wentworth, I think you’ve been reading

old, Logan, but I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The longing, the worry, the love.

like

knew what was happening, Mrs. Wentworth’s hand shot up, giving me a sharp smack

I exclaimed, rubbing the spot.

girl once, and I remember how it felt to be in love. When Ella looks at you, I see that same emotion in her eyes. Maybe she hasn’t admitted it to you or

her words. Could she be right? My mind was swirling with memories of Ella and our interactions. Had I really missed something so evident? I thought that Ella hated my guts because of what I was. When I had kissed her earlier, she had pushed me away

Wentworth’s demeanor softened. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Logan. Not

in my chest. “I promise,” I murmured, my voice

of satisfaction humming through our bond. The idea that Ella could

Wentworth patted my

off you go and do what you need to do. And remember, sometimes the answers we seek are

streets, finally arriving at a worn-out,