Logan (8 page)

Bingo
.

A thick envelope full of cash.

Christ, Stormy
. He made a mental note to teach her about safer hiding places for her valuables.

His heart did that funky thing it had been doing since he’d met her. He ignored it, aware of the time ticking by, and stuffed the envelope in his back pocket. He brought the bags out to his car and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Fairly.

She answered the door wearing a light blue housecoat. She looked older than Logan’s mother, with gray hair and a friendly, round face. Recognition spiked in her eyes, and she smiled warmly.

“Hello there.”

“Hi, Mrs. Fairly. I’m Logan Wild.” He held out a hand and was met with a limp handshake.

“Yes. You’re Stormy’s friend.”

“That’s right. She asked me to come by to get her things. We’re going on a trip, and I wanted to settle up her remaining lease.”

“Oh, my. Is she leaving for good?” A crease formed between her brows.

“Yes, I believe so. How much rent are you due?” He thought of his mother, and the idea of her needing to take in a stranger for money bothered him. Mrs. Fairly had opened her house to Stormy, and even though he’d just met them both, he was thankful that Stormy had found a safe place to live.

“She’s on a month-to-month, dear. She’s paid up for this month.”

His soft heart got the better of him. “And how much was she paying per month?”

“Nine hundred dollars, but she’s all paid up, as I said.”

After giving her a check for six months’ rent, Logan gave her a talk about not opening the door for strangers and then he headed back to his office. It was too late to drive to Mystic if he wanted to pick up Stormy after her shift, and at least for now he knew she was safe. She may not like it, but until he could ensure that Kutcher would never bother her again, she was stuck with him.

THE DAY DRAGGED by despite the continuous flow of customers. Stella could hardly believe that the man who looked cold and possibly dangerous the first night she’d seen him at the bar made her feel safe and like she wasn’t alone for the first time since this nightmare began. She tried to ignore the other desires he was sparking.

She looked up at the door for the hundredth time today. Each time she did, a chill ran across her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if it was from wanting to see Logan or out of fear that Kutcher would walk through the door and drag her God knew where. Although that wasn’t Kutcher’s style. He was stealthy, like a ninja. He’d be more likely to hide in her apartment or in an alley so he could drag her into the darkness and leave her body in a Dumpster.

“He’ll be here,” Dylan said. “You still have fifteen minutes until you’re off work, and Logan, he never drops the ball.”

She tried to smile, but her head was still wrapped around thoughts of Kutcher. He’d been abusive, but she knew that wasn’t the reason he’d wanted her dead. She’d made a mistake the last time he’d come after her. As he was pressing the sharp point of the knife to her skin, she’d said,
I won’t tell them about the ring.

The ring.
That’s what he’d called his drug-dealing business. She’d overheard him talking about it and put the pieces of his shady life together. His eyes had glazed over, cold and dark, and as the knife violently tore through her skin, she’d thought her next breath would be her last. The second stab sent her to her knees—and then her neighbor had responded to her screams.

The flow of customers slowed, and Dylan leaned his hip against the bar, kicked one ankle over the other, and crossed his arms. “Do you want to talk?”

Stella leaned against the bar beside him. She’d been hoping he’d ask. She’d shared some of the details about her past with Dylan, like the fact that she was hiding from an abusive ex-boyfriend, although she hadn’t told him everything.

“Did you tell Logan about me?”

He shook his head, his dark eyes trained on hers. “I didn’t have to. He’d never ask me to breach a confidence. That’s not how he rolls. Anything Logan wants or needs to know, he’ll find out.”

“I got that impression.” Her pulse kicked up when the front door opened.

They both looked over at a couple as they walked in and took a seat at a booth. She pushed from the bar to go take their order, and Dylan gently touched her arm.

“Three days left?” Dylan’s voice was low and deep, as serious as the day was long.

“Two and a half.” The pit of her stomach twisted into a knot.

“Listen to Logan, okay? I don’t want to hear about you on the morning news.”

She’d listen to Logan. She had no choice. He didn’t seem as though he’d give her one. And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

During the day, the bartenders took on the double duty of handling the floor and the bar. Stella didn’t mind. She was glad for the distraction from her thoughts. She took the customers’ orders and saw to two other tables before returning to the bar.

The front door opened again. The late-afternoon sun silhouetted Logan’s tall, broad frame, every muscle of his chest outlined by a tight black T-shirt. How had she missed the barbed-wire tattoo circling his right bicep? Jeans clung deliciously to his massive thighs, and the bulge to the right of his zipper made her mouth go dry. She knew what magic that impressive bulge could perform.

The door closed behind him, and his face came into focus. The stern set of his jaw and piercing stare told her that he had bad news, but it was the way he closed the distance between them, took her by the arm, and walked with his body practically swallowing her whole that had her pulse working double-time.

***

LOGAN HAD SPENT the last hour watching the bar from the café across the street. He knew Stormy would be nervous if he sat inside the bar and waited, but he needed to have his eyes on her. As long as she was behind the bar or by the booths against the far wall, he’d been able to see her through the windows. Now her shift was over, and all he could think about was getting her out of there. When they’d tossed Kutcher’s cell, they’d found two phones. The fucker had been tracking her all along. Logan had to get her to a safe place. Kutcher had too many friends on the outside to wait out the three days playing cat and mouse, knowing one of Kutcher’s cronies could abduct her at any moment. Stormy was a sitting duck.

“You’re hurting me,” she said in a harsh whisper.

He loosened his grip. He had to find a way to separate the anger that had been mounting since he’d first learned that Kutcher had bought her the phone from his need to protect her. There was no fighting the protective urges he felt toward Stormy, but one thing was for sure: They were done with the physical side of their relationship. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. He needed all of his senses on high alert when he was with her, and if he didn’t push aside his feelings for her, he’d never be able to keep his focus where it belonged.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. We need to talk.”

Dylan was talking with another employee by the bar. He lifted his chin in Logan’s direction as they passed. Logan had texted him and filled him in on what was going down. He agreed to give Stormy whatever time off she needed, of course, and would have a job waiting for her when the situation was under control.

In the back office, Stormy rubbed her arm, eyeing him from beneath her long dark hair, which had fallen over one eye.

“Just tell me.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “I can handle whatever it is.”

The underlying hint of desperation in her voice drew him closer. “We have to get out of here. Out of the area. He’s been tracking you this whole time. It’s not safe.”

Her lower lip began to tremble, and her brows knitted together. Logan fought the urge to fold her into his arms and hold her until her fear subsided. He tried to ignore the memory of her mouth on his and the desire to kiss her until neither of them could think about what lay ahead. She couldn’t bury this fear in sex, and he couldn’t allow himself to be weakened by the thought of it. He drew his shoulders back, steeling himself against his emotions, feeling his body go as cold as it had during every mission he’d ever served. After killing the man who had murdered his father and blinded his mother, he’d worked hard to try to find his way back to some semblance of normal emotions, and he realized now, as he tried to slide into the icy state, that it wasn’t until Stormy that the urge to care about anyone other than family had broken through that ice around his heart.

Stormy looked at him with her big, trusting eyes and reached for him. Instinct took over, and he gathered her in his arms, feeling nothing like the soldier he’d been. A soldier wouldn’t cave under pressure—a soldier had to protect his heart. Logan was more interested in protecting hers.

He kissed the top of her head as he pressed one hand to her upper back, the other to her lower, and whispered, “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His blood refused to turn to ice; his heart refused to slip into the frozen state in which it had once spent every waking moment. How the hell was he going to navigate this new terrain? He couldn’t let her out of his sight, but if there was any hope in hell of keeping Kutcher behind bars, he had to get to Mystic, and there was no way he was taking her anywhere near there until he was sure the threat of Kutcher was gone.

She fisted her hands in his shirt. “Where will I go? I need to pack.”

“I’ve got all your stuff. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“Let me take care of it.” He reached into his back pocket and handed her the envelope he’d found in the cookie jar.

“I…I usually carry that in my purse, but after what happened the other night, I realized my purse could probably get stolen more easily than my apartment could be broken into. Logan, what did you find in my stuff?”

Last night she’d been attacked. This morning, outside her apartment, she’d thought he was Kutcher. He knew from her calendar how long she’d been living in fear of this man, and he wasn’t going to give Kutcher another second of power over her. He tucked her under his arm, feeling some of the tension bleed from her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

“Please tell me where we’re going.”

“The only place I know you’ll be safe. My cabin.”

STORMY WAS QUIET on the drive out of the city. She was still fidgeting with the seam of her jeans and hugging the passenger door. They’d stopped at a market before leaving the city, and Logan had stocked up on enough groceries to tide them over for a few days and had picked up sandwiches for dinner, which they’d eaten on the way. He’d hoped she’d close her eyes and get some rest on the drive out to his cabin in the Silver Mountains in Sweetwater, New York, but he’d had no such luck. Every time he stole a glance at her, the thin layer of ice he’d held tenuously in place around his heart since they’d set out for the cabin melted a little more. It was all Logan could do not to pull her against him and help ease her worry. He told her about the tracking devices he’d found and tried to reassure her that he had a plan, although his plan was loosely threaded at the moment, overshadowed by the need to get her to safety. He had less than seventy-two hours to get to Kutcher, and come hell or high water, he’d nail the bastard.

It was dark by the time they wove up the mountain road, led by streaks of moonlight carving paths through the trees. Stormy made a sad noise in her throat that tugged at Logan, wiping away the last of his resolve. He reached for her hand, and for a split second their eyes connected before he had to turn back to the road. In that instant he saw deep wells of sorrow. He wished he were driving his father’s old truck, which he kept at the cabin, instead of his car. It had a bench seat, and he could have held her close while he drove.

He turned down the dirt driveway and stopped the car in front of the iron gate.
The hell with professional distance
. Distance was the last thing she needed. She’d had distance for as long as she’d been running. He unhooked his seat belt and hauled his thick body over the console to pull her against him. Her body was rigid at first as he stroked her back. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Darkness peered through the windows, keeping the sounds of night at bay and leaving them in a bubble of silence. He could have held her all night right there on the secluded drive on the Silver Mountains, but he wanted her safe
and
comfortable. He touched his forehead to hers.

“Hey.”

She lifted a tenuous gaze.

“I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

For the first time, she looked fragile. Her eyes were soft, her shoulders low. Her walls were coming down, and that made Logan’s protective impulses even stronger. He’d been on high alert as they’d left the city and had taken the long way to the property to avoid being tailed. There hadn’t been a single set of taillights for the last twenty miles.

He settled back into his seat and used the remote to open the gate, still holding her hand. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as he drove up the long dark driveway toward the cabin.

Logan parked the car and flicked a code on the remote. Porch and floodlights illuminated a thirty-foot area around the two-bedroom cabin.

“Where are we?”

“Silver Rock Mountains, upstate New York. I own two hundred acres. You’ll be safe here. I’ve got surveillance cameras throughout the property, but there’s no need to worry,” he assured her. “No one knows you’re here.”

“Wow. You’re like one of those guys in the movies, where in a few hours you can become invisible.” She sighed as she unhooked her seat belt. “What I wouldn’t give for that skill.”

Logan got out of the car and opened her door.

“
And
you’re a gentleman.” She smiled up at him, looking markedly less worried than she’d been moments before. Logan knew she was good at slipping in and out of the armor she wore in public, and he wasn’t buying the no-fear mask she was wearing.

“I guess my mama raised her boys right.” He reached for her hand and helped her from the car, then retrieved her bags. He had everything he needed at the cabin, from clothing to tactical gear and equipment.

Out of habit, he scanned the area as they ascended the steps to the wraparound porch.

“I bet this place is gorgeous in the daylight.”

“Night or day, if you ask me.” Logan pushed the door open and scanned the interior. It was a simple cabin with a bedroom on either end, a small kitchen to the left, and a wood-burning stove surrounded by stone just beyond. Reclaimed barn wood lined the far wall. Logan watched Stormy take in the leather recliners in the living room and the old leather sofa beside the stove. Her boots resounded on the hardwood floors.

“This is exactly how I pictured you’d live.” She ran her hand over the marble countertops in the kitchen. “I love how you’ve combined old barn wood with higher-end elements, and the stainless-steel stove and fridge are a nice touch.”

“Careful. Your interior decorator side is showing.”

She smiled. “So important PI stuff included digging up my career?”

“Just a little.” He didn’t want her to feel too exposed, but he wanted her to know that he wasn’t oblivious to who she was, so he turned the conversation from her back to the cabin. “My father had a thing for stone. Probably because he could never afford it.” Talking about his father made his muscles cord tight, and he didn’t know what possessed him to mention his father to Stormy.

He’d bought the property after he’d returned to civilian life, as a place where he could escape the guilt of not being there when his parents needed him. Finding out that guilt stayed with him like white on rice was a harsh reality he’d still not gotten used to. He’d added the stone at the last minute. His father was the hardest-working man Logan had ever known, though he’d never made much money. Logan had carried one image of his father with him for years. They’d just arrived at Hal Braden’s ranch in Weston, Colorado, for him and his brothers to work for a few weeks. Hal was a hulking man at six foot six, with shoulders as wide as a doorframe. His father had walked inside beneath Hal’s big arm, the two men looking as close as brothers. Logan’s father had turned to him and said,
When you build a home, son, do as Hal did. Use stone and wood. Stone for solidity and stability and wood for compassion and warmth.

He felt the walls closing in on him with the memory and escaped to the bedroom off to the left, where he shrugged Stormy’s bags onto the bed. He’d never brought any women to the cabin before. But it had been the first and only place that had come to mind with Stormy. He decided not to dissect that too closely as he watched her through the open bedroom door. She bent to remove her boots, and he tried not to stare, or let his mind wander too far, but seeing her bent at the waist conjured up all sorts of lewd thoughts. He shifted his eyes away.

She’s got a guy after her and you’re thinking of fucking her. Real nice, Logan.

“That’s better.” She carried her boots to the mat by the door and wrinkled her brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Logan shook off his lustful haze and joined her in the living room. She sank into the sofa with a sigh and closed her eyes. He paced, too revved up to sit still.

Stormy patted the sofa beside her. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous. I thought you said we were safe here.”

“We are.” He stopped pacing and crossed his arms. Her eyelids were heavy as she curled her feet up beside her and slid a little lower, resting her head on the cushion.

“Then why do you look like a puma guarding its territory? Your shoulders are tight, and you’re probably going to crack your teeth you’re clenching them so hard.”

He smiled at her observation. What she didn’t see were the thoughts racing through his mind. The battle between right and wrong. His emotions had already jumped over the invisible line, and he was doing all he could to get back on the right side of it.

“The sheets on the bed are clean if you want to rest.” It had been about a two-hour drive from the city, and after working all day and not getting much sleep the night before, she had to be exhausted.

“Are you kidding? How can I sleep knowing you’re out here stalking around?”

“Sorry.” He went into his bedroom and grabbed the laptop he kept there, then sat beside her on the couch. At least if his mind and hands were busy, he wouldn’t be thinking about touching her.

He pulled his cell from his pocket and turned on the hot spot for the Internet, watching her as he waited for it to connect. Her eyelids became hooded, and her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were cold. Logan set the laptop on the coffee table and covered her with the throw from the bedroom.

She pulled it up beneath her chin with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for everything, Logan.”

He smiled, feeling the impact of the realization that he’d do anything for her. He sat stock-still, momentarily blown away by the depth of his feelings for her. She sank farther down into the cushions, startling him out of his stupor.

He settled the laptop on his lap and checked on the emails he’d sent that morning to his contacts at the prison where Kutcher was being held. A while later Stormy’s feet nudged their way onto his lap, and he shifted his laptop to accommodate them. Her features had softened the way they had last night. She looked peaceful, as if she felt safe, and that last bit made his chest feel full.

Logan forced himself to concentrate on tracking down Bob Kanets, the dealer he hoped he’d be able to coerce into ratting out Kutcher for drug trafficking. If he was successful, it could keep Kutcher behind bars for at least a few more years. An hour later he had a list of Kutcher’s associates along with a trail of gas and other receipts marking his territory. He sent a text to Marco and got the lowdown on Winters, who seemed to have taken his advice to heart, going straight from work to home and staying put for the night. Marco would continue to tail him for a month. One piece of shit out of the way.

Stormy shifted beside him, and he wondered if it would be better if she felt like a stranger, because falling for a woman wasn’t in his plans, and as he set his laptop on the coffee table and lifted her into his arms, he knew it was exactly what was happening.

He carried her into her bedroom, pulled the blankets back, and set her down on the sheets. Light from the living room provided just enough illumination for him to see her lips curve in a sweet smile.

He debated undressing her so she’d be more comfortable, but didn’t trust himself enough to keep his desires in check. Instead, he pulled the covers up, moved her bags to the floor, and checked the locks on the windows. It felt strange to leave the bedroom when he wanted to climb in beside her and hold her safely against him. Keeping a professional distance sucked.

He left the bedroom door cracked open as fatigue settled into his bones. He checked the lock on the front door one last time before stripping down to his briefs and falling into bed.

***

STELLA AWOKE WITH a start. She thought she’d heard a noise, but she was so tired that she wasn’t sure if she really had or if it was part of the nightmare she’d been having about Kutcher. Her eyes darted around the dark, unfamiliar room. Her heart thundered in her chest, and the only thing she heard was the blood rushing through her ears. She took a few deep breaths, telling herself that it was just a dream.

She’d awoken a while ago feeling bound by her clothes, and she’d stripped down to her underwear, taken off her bra, and dug a T-shirt out of her bag. As her heartbeat calmed, she took stock of the positive things in her life. It was one of the ways she’d gotten through the long nights these past few months, because focusing on all she’d left behind or how scared she was would render her useless.

She was alive. That topped the list of blessings.

She was safe in Logan’s cabin.
God, Logan
. He’d looked like he was ready to pounce earlier in the evening—either on anyone who came near her, or on her; she’d had a hard time deciphering his desire from his protective instincts. He was a complex man, but she trusted him, and liked him way too much. Great. Now she was getting hot and bothered by just thinking about him.

Her eyes danced around the room to distract herself. There was a large wooden dresser on the far wall, and dark curtains covered the windows. The whole cabin felt masculine.
Like Logan
. She hated sucking him into her nightmare of a life, but at the same time, she was thankful he’d been there when she’d needed him. She heard a noise outside her window, and she clutched the blanket to her chest, holding her breath while she listened to a scratching noise on the deck. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she caught sight of a man filling the doorframe with a gun hanging from his right hand, and screamed.

“It’s me.” Logan pulled her against him as she fought to climb off the other side of the bed. “It’s Logan. You’re safe.”

“I heard a noise,” she panted out.

“Raccoons. They wandered onto the deck.”

Raccoons. Not Kutcher
.

Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She clutched Logan’s arms.

“It’s okay. No one knows you’re here. You’re safe. I promise.”

“Then why do you have a gun?” she whispered, too afraid to speak louder.

“Habit.”

As her mind came into focus, she became aware of his bare chest against her cheek, his thick, bare thighs beneath her. In her panic she must have scrambled onto his lap. She closed her eyes as her fear spun itself into lust. She pulled from his arms but immediately felt vulnerable again.

“St-stay,” she pleaded.

He didn’t respond immediately, and as her senses righted themselves, she felt the reason he was holding back. As she’d been assessing her own desires, he’d gone gloriously, impressively hard as steel beneath her.

“Not a good idea.” His voice was thrillingly low and rough. “I need to be alert.”

“Well, I think you’ve achieved that.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, his jaw twitching.

“I just don’t want to be alone. Please? We won’t…”

She knew they’d both be testing their willpower, and she watched as he fought some kind of silent battle that had his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching again. He set her off his lap and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“I promise not to touch you.” She tried to sound confident, but all of her girlie parts were begging her to lie.