Friday. Senator Dixon's Home. Annapolis, Maryland.
LOGAN PULLED HIS TIE from around his neck and tossed it onto the queen sized bed.
Like most of the senator's home, the decoration leaned toward wood, leather and shades of burgundy. The bedroom was spacious and boring. Judging by the Jack-and-Jill bath, this room and the next were likely intended to be rooms for the homeowner's children.
He squinted at the clock.
It was beyond late.
He needed to lay his things out and get to bed. Tomorrow would be grueling. No doubt the senator's lawyer and fixer would have decided on a course of action. Getting them to budge would be difficult yet necessary. Especially once they understood Butters motivation.
Why was it self-important people always thought they knew best?
Logan unbuttoned his shirt while that thought swirled in his head.
What was he doing here?
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet.