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.”

me for so long

as if inspecting a child who had come home after

nodded. “There’s something I

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

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

piercing. “That

in topic, I replied, “Yes, she is.” I was about to add more when

you deeply, Logan. More than you realize, or perhaps more than you want to

an eyebrow, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice. “Mrs. Wentworth, I think you’ve been reading too many of those

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

like me in that way.

Mrs. Wentworth’s hand shot up,

rubbing the

felt to be in love. When Ella looks at you, I see that same

so evident? I thought that Ella hated

Mrs. Wentworth’s demeanor softened. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Logan. Not just for your sake, but

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

stirred, a sense of satisfaction humming through our bond. The idea that Ella could harbor deeper feelings for me

Wentworth patted my

a good lad. Now, off you go and do what you need to do. And remember, sometimes the answers we seek are right in front

the city’s twisted alleys and streets, finally arriving at a worn-out, gray building,