Indestructible (29 page)

“She was planning to off my child, Cassie!”

“No, she wasn’t. She was looking at adoption.”

He let out a low, dark chuckle. “Well, let’s give her a medal when she returns, shall we?”

“Are you going to take the baby from her?”

“I’m going to do what needs to be done. Just call me again if you hear from her—and let her know I won’t stop looking.”

With that, he hung up. I sat there, watching the last of the parents picking up their kids. I was going to kill Hilary when Caleb was finished with her.

Chapter Twenty
Priorities

After a quick detour to the local market to stock my fridge, I was on my way home. Eager to see Logan, I passed by his property with a small smile that fell the moment I saw a squad car parked in his driveway. It wasn’t my mother’s, either—it was the sheriff’s.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I rushed my groceries inside, tossed them on the counter, and called Logan. It rang several times before his voicemail kicked back. It wasn’t the norm from Logan’s cell, but considering the presence of the vehicle, I wasn’t surprised.

I stared out the window, chewing my bottom lip. It was a single squad car and no ambulance.
A good sign
. I needed to relax. It could be anything, and growing up around the sheriff’s department, I knew that if they were there without paramedics it meant they were talking. There was no need to rush over, make a scene, or distract anyone from doing their job. The problem with that, though, was that patience had never been a friend of mine.

With an occasional peek out my window, I put the groceries away, then poured myself a glass of juice. The reverberating sound of a car door slamming penetrated my eardrums and I ran back to the window, reaching it just in time to watch the squad car drive away.

Seconds later, my phone was in my hands. I dialed Logan, only to hit his voicemail again. After another peek outside, my curiosity growing, I spotted Jax’s car.
He’s my next phone call
, I thought, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. If he didn’t answer, I’d go over and check in.

With bated breath, I leaned against the wall and waited until Jax answered.

“What’s up, baby?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled at the surge of relief I felt. He wouldn’t be acting playful if something terrible had happened…right?

“First, I’m not your baby.” I kicked off from the wall. “Second, is Logan home?”

“He is, but kinda in the middle of something.” Jax’s voice grew distant as he began speaking to someone in the background. “Okay, set it up and I’ll play.”

My smile grew, my tension relaxing further. “Tell Oliver I said hi. So is everything okay? Saw that the sheriff was over.”

“Probably not, but I don’t have specifics yet. I’ll let Logan know you called, though. See ya
…baby
.”

A strange mix of irritation and relief balanced me enough to placate my nerves for the time being. Turning my focus on something other than waiting for Logan’s call, I tossed my phone on the couch and ambled back to the kitchen to prepare a meal for my boys. I’d promised them dinner, after all.

An hour later, one of my finest culinary masterpieces was set out on the table with no one there to enjoy it other than myself. Aggravation reared its ugly head, stomping out the distressing anxiety. I dialed Logan, and was sent straight to voicemail this time.

Something was wrong.

Less than five minutes later, I was ringing Logan’s doorbell, a scarf wrapped tight around my neck to battle the endless-winter-air bitterness. Jax finally answered, with Oliver at his side.

“Cassandra!” Oliver leapt forward, his arms wide.

I stumbled back at his sudden embrace, laughing. “Hey, buddy, have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nope, I’m hungry. Uncle Jax can’t cook.” He stepped back, looking up at his uncle.

Jax snorted. “I don’t need to cook. Plenty of women are willing to do it for me.” He cocked a brow at me, his eyes filled with humor.

I shook my head, ignoring the jab. “I made dinner if
you
want to come over,” I said directly to Oliver and Oliver alone. “Is your daddy here?”

Jax spoke up before Oliver could. “He’s busy, but lucky for you I’m free and have no problem taking his place for a meal.”

I stepped farther inside, unwinding my scarf and opening my jacket. “Fine, you’re invited, but not in Logan’s place. Where is he, anyway? It’s after seven.” It wasn’t like him to not have dinner ready for Oliver by six. Something was definitely up.

“His office, but I’d leave him be for a bit,” Jax said, eerily serious.

“Everything okay?” I asked, my body tensing.

“As much as you may think I’m a prick, I’ll prove you wrong today and leave things for Logan to tell you.”

That didn’t sound good, but with Oliver standing between us I didn’t press for any further information.

“I’ll get Oliver bundled up. Hurry, we’re starved. No dilly-dallying upstairs!” Playful Jax was back, grabbing Oliver’s coat from the closet.

I made my way up the stairs to Logan’s office, worrying myself over the unknown. Was someone hurt? Was it about Caleb, or Hilary? That thought alone was too overwhelming to bear.

The door to Logan’s office was open, so I walked in. He stood behind his desk, phone in hand, looking down at nothing.

“Hey,” I said, almost in a whisper. The thick air crackled around us.

Logan raised his head, set the phone on his desk, and walked across the room. I met him halfway, where he hauled me into his arms, holding me close. He exhaled, his body wound tightly with tension so tangible I could feel it radiating off him.

“Hey,” he finally husked.

I pulled back and cupped his face. His usually vibrant blue eyes were hooded and tired.

“Everything okay? I made dinner. Jax is downstairs getting Oliver ready to come over.”

His hands loosened around my waist. “Sorry sweetheart. I’m gonna need a rain check on that one.”

I nodded gingerly. “Talk to me.”

He held my gaze for a moment before releasing a sigh and stepping backward toward his desk. “Kurt died last night.”

My hands flew to my mouth. “Oh my God.” I couldn’t breathe. I could barely speak, my words shooting out in gasped syllables. “What? How?”

“Waiting on the autopsy. They suspect he was drugged.”

My head throbbed. Kurt was dead and never coming back. No trial to suffer through. No fear about his release. He was…dead.

“Did you…?” It came out before I could stop myself. I dropped my head, ashamed I’d even allowed it to slip out.

“No, I had nothing to do with it.” His voice was strong—honest. I peered back up, watching him stand there regarding me with a new intensity.

“I don’t understand. Then who?” I said, more calmly than I’d expected.

Logan held out his hand and guided me to his colossal leather chair. I sat, despite the rigidity in my limbs.

“They’re looking into every possible lead. Your mother came by Saturday night to tell me Kurt was in the infirmary, but she didn’t have any facts then—just that they suspected foul play.”

My neck craned his way. “Why didn’t you tell me this morning?”

“Because I didn’t think it was serious. Besides, I had nothing to do with it, so it seemed insignificant.” Agitation edged his tone. “Honestly, I figured the fucker would live.”

My head bobbed in understanding. “That’s why the sheriff was here—to tell you?”

Logan rubbed his jaw and sighed. “Not exactly. Like I said, they’re looking into every possible suspect.”

“Suspect? They think you—?”My head fell back, eyes slamming shut at the sting of tears. “I can’t believe this. They really think you had something to do with murdering someone?”

He moved closer, dropping to his haunches in front of me. He pried my hands free from the arms of the chair and held them in his. “They’re just trying to look productive. They don’t have any reliable leads right now—only gossip.”

“Logan—”

“I didn’t do this.” His voice was a powerful, definitive growl. “But I’m not sorry he’s dead. The only reason the sheriff’s looking at me is because of Kurt’s cellmate, who gave a statement this morning filled with hearsay and lies.”

My tears fell. Why was this happening to us?

“Listen to me, Cassandra: This is all going to go away. You understand me?”

“You don’t know that,” I mumbled between sobs. “What if they arrest you, Logan? What if—”

His mouth crushed mine, hot and demanding, silencing me with his tongue. His strong fingers skimmed up my neck, capturing my chin.

When he finally broke the kiss, my tears lingered over both our lips. I felt utterly hopeless.

“Trust me. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that.”

The conviction in his words settled my anxiety, and the ferocious look in his eyes demanded I trust him. So I did, letting the subject drop.

“Okay, well then come have dinner with us.”

His mouth slanted over my lips once more in a tender, quick peck. “I wish I could, but I need to make a few calls and then go down to Haven and make sure everything’s running smoothly. Been having a few problems without Caleb at the helm.”

He went to stand, bending back down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Can you tell Jax to make sure Oliver gets his bath after he eats? I’ll be back in time to tuck him in.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice weak.

“How about, after everything is settled, I sneak over to tuck you in as well?”

And there it was: that ravenous look paired with his throaty timbre, full of delicious possibilities. It had a miraculous way of weakening every worry I held.

My lips curled upward. “I may be hard to rouse. You sure you can find some…new method?”

“I’m always up for a challenge—especially when it involves you.”

He was still standing directly in front of me. My fingers danced up his thighs, his erection tenting his slacks inches from my face. I sat up straighter.

“Then stop over.” I cupped his bulge. “I won’t kick you out.”

He reached down, gripped my shoulders, and pulled me up flush against him. His arms snaked around my waist, settling on my ass and grasping it with greedy hands. “I wouldn’t let you anyway, and you know it.”

“I do.”

The phone rang, interrupting our moment. It was probably for the best, since I had two hungry West guys waiting downstairs for me. Logan answered the phone; he’d obviously been expecting the call.

“Hold on a minute,” he said into the receiver before covering it with his hand and claiming one final kiss from me.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he murmured.

I nodded and strode back to the door. “I’ll have Jax bring you a plate over.”

He was already too occupied on the call to reply so I turned and left, my thoughts rewinding and planting a heavy weight of anxious fear in my gut.

Kurt was dead.

When I woke the next morning, it wasn’t with a satisfied grin but an empty void. Logan had never shown up. Not that I didn’t understand—between the newspaper, Haven, and now Kurt, he had a lot on his mind.

I checked my phone, relieved to find a text from him.

Not gonna make it tonight. Dream of me sweetheart. X

Two long nights passed that included said dreams, but with only intermittent texts from Logan. It was frustrating, but I’d always despised girlfriends who clung to their men, unable to go so much as one night alone. That wouldn’t be me. I occupied my time by catching up on some housework and doing a little reading. A couple days alone were probably exactly what I needed.

My only issue was that I didn’t just have a busy boyfriend, but one who purposely kept me in the dark about something everyone around me couldn’t stop discussing. That was a hard pill to swallow. After that day in his home office, he hadn’t so much as mentioned Kurt’s name to me in any of the messages he sent—even when I asked.

The gossip mill around town spoke volumes to the stress he was dealing with. Rumors swirled like wildfire:
Logan West was responsible for Kurt’s death.
The sheriff had yet to name Logan a prime suspect, but had hinted he was a person of interest.

The looks and hushed whispers around the school ran rampant, but never once was I asked point blank for details. Besides seeing Oliver at school, happily unaware of the drama unfolding around him, I hadn’t spent any time with him, either. The West house sat quietly beside mine, with no activity and only the occasional flicker of light in the evening.

By Thursday night, I was aching to see Logan. I’d been lying on my couch, flipping through channels filled with reality shows and infomercials, and needed something from him.

I sent him a text, hoping he’d be free.

I miss you.

It took almost an hour before my phone chimed with a reply.

I know. Me too. Hate this. I’m going to kill Caleb.

I’d had no contact from Hilary since Monday after school, which had me even more worried.

Is he home yet? Has he found Hilary?

This time, his reply was instant.