Blue Blooded (5 page)

Craning her head to check the environment, she was relieved by the absence of cops in the area. Of course, this neighborhood, referred to in the media as “murder central,” was known for the lack of police presence. While tonight that worked in their favor, she wondered why Logan didn't meet this guy at his law office like a
normal
attorney.

A metal banging coming from the back end of the car caused her to jump in her seat. Some guy walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle. She stuck her hand in her purse again, this time wrapping her fingers around her pepper spray.

Logan jutted his chin, his hand on the handle of the door. “Get out of the car.”

She glared at him. “Stop ordering me around. I'm not one of your bondage bunnies from the club.”

Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. “Sorry. Get out of the car.
Please
.”

Her friends had regaled her with stories of Logan's chivalry, but she had yet to see it. Apparently, Kate and Danielle got to experience Logan the knight in shining armor while she got Logan the Neanderthal.

Not taking her hand off her spray, she slid out of the car and got a good look at whom she assumed was Logan's client. With a baby face like his, he couldn't be more than twenty-one years old. “Hey, man,” he said, shaking Logan's hand. “Gotta say, I never expected a call like that from you. Not setting me up, are you?”

“No.” Logan slid his gaze toward her before returning to Willie. “I've got a little situation and just need to lie low for a bit. I really appreciate this.”

“You've saved my ass. 'Bout time I got to return the favor.” Willie lovingly caressed the hood of Logan's car. “I hate to chop your ride though. Why don't I just—”

“No, take it to your shop and do your magic,” Logan said, tossing his keys to Willie. “I want it gone.”

Willie pocketed the keys and did a double take as he noticed her standing to the right of the passenger door. Brows furrowed as he stared at her, he dropped a different set of keys into Logan's waiting hand. Willie's eyes widened in recognition and he snapped his fingers. “Hey, aren't you Rachel Dawson from Channel Five? You're even hotter in person.”

“Back off, Willie,” Logan warned.

Willie's gaze bounced between her and Logan, a slow smile breaking out. “Oh, that's how it is. I get it.”

She waited for Logan to correct Willie's assumption but he never did. Instead he walked around to the back of his Mustang and popped the trunk, retrieving a duffle bag similar to the one he'd left behind at Benediction with all his kinky toys. Swinging it over his shoulders, he quietly shut the trunk and then moved to stand beside her. He slung his arm around her waist as if making his claim on her.

“Good luck, man.” Willie hopped into the Mustang and, tires squealing, drove away practically before she could blink, as if he was afraid Logan would change his mind about the swap.

The silence unnerved her, her overactive imagination running rampant waiting for homicidal FBI agents, misinformed cops, or gangbangers to jump out of the darkness at any moment.

Logan led her to their new vehicle, a gray Monte Carlo. Despite having grown up near the “Motor City” of Detroit, she couldn't begin to understand the fascination of cars, but she could appreciate that Logan had traded in a beauty for something her parents would drive. Then again, Monte Carlos were so popular, they'd have no problem getting lost in a sea of commonality.

As she got into the passenger side, he threw his duffle into the backseat with a loud thump. “What the hell is in that bag, a dead body?” she asked, only half joking.

He sat beside her and started the engine. “It's my go-bag.”

“Seriously? You keep a go-bag in your car?”

He shrugged. “Never know when you're gonna witness two FBI agents assassinate a mobster.”

In no way was this fair. While he had a go-bag and a cell phone, she had nothing other than her purse, and even she wasn't dumb enough to use a credit card. She had exactly twenty-seven dollars cash and a package of mints to her name at this point. No change of clothes. No deodorant or toothbrush. No special hair care products to keep her thick hair from becoming a frizzy rat's nest. Nada. But Logan had a prepared duffle full of items that would no doubt keep him looking and smelling fresh as a damned rose.

Remembering she hadn't eaten dinner, she unwrapped the package of mints and popped one in her mouth. She'd have to make do because obviously, stopping at the McDonalds' drive-thru was out of the question. She held out the roll, offering it to Logan. He shook his head, declining, and fiddled with his phone.

“Where we headed?” she asked.

“I've got an old family friend who's a survivalist. Keeps to himself and lives out in the middle of nowhere in Florida, not too far from Port Everglades, where our friendly FBI agents are headed. We'll be safe there until we can figure out who we're looking for at the port.”

He placed his iPhone into the cup holder and opened an app. Voices filled the car. She sat back and listened as the voices threw out a bunch of numbers and words she was familiar with from her job. Logan had accessed the local police scanner.

It was only moments before she heard them mention the APB out for her and Logan, telling police to look out for a silver Mustang and that they were armed and dangerous.

Hearing her name mentioned that way brought home the gravity of the situation. They really were being framed by the FBI for Rinaldi's murder. But the police weren't completely wrong. She was armed. Armed with the truth. And that made her dangerous.

She just wished she knew whom that made her dangerous to.

“R
ACHEL, WAKE UP
.”

Blinking at the glare of the sun, she opened her eyes and stretched, turning her head to both sides to get the crick out of her neck. They were parked at a gas pump, the store's large sign at the entrance advertising Georgia peaches and salt licks. Beyond that was a two-lane highway with grass on both sides and not another structure in sight. “I wasn't sleeping.”

She'd drifted off sometime after they'd passed Atlanta, but had woken up every few minutes, the sound of gunshots still lingering in her memory. The images of Rinaldi's blood splattering flashed like a slideshow through her mind.

Logan chuckled. “Sure you weren't. And you also weren't snoring.”

“I don't snore.” No one had ever accused her of snoring. Of course, other than her sisters, she'd never slept in the same room as anyone else, and it had been years since she'd done that. “Wait, do I snore?”

He only grinned.

She rolled her eyes, choosing to believe he was teasing over the alternative. “Where are we?” Checking the clock on the dashboard, she calculated the time they'd been in the car. They'd left Detroit around one in the morning, and it was now six at night. Logan had to be feeling the fatigue of driving for fifteen hours without a break, but he'd insisted he was too wound up to take a nap. More likely he was too much of a control freak to give up the wheel.

“ 'Bout an hour north of Florida. This is the last stop before we get to our point of destination, so use the restroom and grab whatever you need. I'll meet you back at the car in fifteen. Keep your head down and don't do anything to draw any attention.”

She got out of the car and slammed the door, her knees creaking from the hours of sitting. “You don't need to tell me that every time we stop, you know.”

He dipped his head, a look of contrition on his tired face. “Sorry.”

A sliver of regret managed to worm its way into her heart. On top of not sleeping all night, the stress of the situation had to prove just as difficult for him. She shouldn't have snapped like that. “No, I'm sorry. I'm always cranky when I first get up. Mainly because I don't get more than a couple hours of sleep at night and I survive on coffee, which I haven't drunk since this morning. I know you were only trying to help.”

Something passed between them at that moment, as if they'd both finally accepted they were in this together. It was too exhausting to hate him. Even she could admit if he hadn't come along when he had last night, she may have lost it and given away her presence, getting herself killed as a result.

Together they walked into the dirty store of the gas station, avoiding making eye contact with the other customers. The place was falling apart with holes in the walls and cracked tiles in the floors. Her toes curled when she spotted a mouse darting under one of the store shelves.

Logan had mapped out a route to keep them off the highway, so they stuck to lots of back roads, making sure to stop at places that most likely wouldn't have surveillance cameras. No grainy black-and-white images of her and Logan showing up on the news. So far, the story hadn't hit the national airwaves. Hopefully, the FBI was assuming they were still in Michigan.

After using the washroom, she nabbed a coffee and a packaged cupcake and paid for it at the register, following Logan's instructions not to look the clerk in the eye. She took her meal outside, enjoying the fresh air. The weather was humid and much warmer than what they'd left back in Michigan. She took a deep breath and walked past the car toward the grassy area. It felt good to use her legs after being stuck in the car for endless hours. She wasn't used to sitting still for long. Which reminded her—she'd missed her private session with her Pilates teacher this morning. No wonder she was so stiff.

After sipping the worst coffee she'd ever drunk, she unwrapped her cupcake and took a huge bite, not surprised to find it stale. She dropped both her drink and the cupcake in the garbage. Guess now was as good a time as ever to start a diet.

“Stupid mutt,” a male voice shouted, followed by a loud thud.

Across the field of grass, a man kicked a dog in its side for what she guessed was at least the second time. His head bowed in submission, the dog yelped and edged backward, trying to get away, but the man held its leash, still yelling at the animal as if it understood English.

Furious, she marched over. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was bullies. As the man raised his booted foot once more, she reached the scene and jumped in front of the dog, her arms spread wide. “Hey, you. Stop that. You're hurting him.”

“Excuse me?” The guy sneered but, luckily for her, lowered his foot to the ground. She was in no mood to get kicked. “Why don't you mind your own business?”

She pointed her finger at him. “You made the dog my business as soon as I saw your boot connect with his rib cage.”

“Dog ate my lunch when I went inside. He needs to be taught a lesson not to do it again.”

The dog no longer bowed his head. Instead he was looking up at her with curiosity on his wrinkled face. She bent to rub his ears, loving it when the dog nudged her hand for more. He wasn't the most attractive dog she'd ever seen, but he was full of personality. With wet jowls and big brown eyes, he was wider than what seemed normal for a dog his size. She peeked underneath him, confirming his gender. “You can't discipline a dog for his nature. If you were stupid enough to leave food unattended around him, you should've expected it would get eaten. You're the one who needed the lesson not to do it again.”

“Bitch, I don't know who you think you are acting all high and mighty, but this here dog's my property. I can train him however I want. Now, why don't you go run along before I train you like I train my dog?”

She stepped in front of the animal, her hands on her hips. “I'm not leaving until you promise you won't harm him.”

“Fuck you.” His face screwed up in a sneer and he spit some tobacco chew on the ground, just barely missing her foot. “I ain't making no promises to an uptight cunt who sticks her nose into other people's business.”

He tromped forward, clipping her with his shoulder on his way to snatch back his dog. She twirled around, intending to scoop the animal into her arms, but before she had the chance, the asshole grabbed the dog's collar and twisted it, yanking him hard and eliciting a yelp.

“That's it.” She pushed the dog's owner in an attempt to get him to release the strangling hold he had on the poor thing. “Give me the dog and I won't call the cops on you for animal cruelty.”

The man turned, the unmitigated anger in his eyes now focused entirely on her. She took a step backward, but she wasn't quick enough. Forgoing the dog, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook hard enough to snap her head back and to elicit tears. Then he raised one hand, readying to strike. She winced, preparing herself for the painful blow.

It never came.

“Take your hands off the lady,” ordered Logan, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist midstrike. “Now.”

She let go of the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Damn it, she wasn't the type of woman who needed a man to save her, but since last night, she'd been all too grateful to have Logan at her back.

The man released her with a shove and faced Logan. “This your bitch? You need to teach her a lesson about showing some respect.”

While she crouched and reassuringly rubbed the dog's neck, Logan stood eerily still with his jaw locked with tension, somehow seeming much taller and formidable than he had a few minutes ago. “Seems like you're the one who needs to learn respect.”

His gaze falling to the ground, the dog's owner took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know what? This dog ain't worth it. Just took him to fuck with my ex in the divorce.” He threw up his hands and took a step backward. “He's all yours now.” He stomped away before getting into his truck and speeding away.

Typical bully. He could pick on something or someone smaller and weaker than himself but when confronted by a man equally his size, he ran with his tail between his legs.

“What happened to not drawing any attention?” Logan asked dryly.

She scratched the dog one final time behind his ears and stood with the leash in her hands. Yeah, she could admit she hadn't exactly stayed off the grid with her actions, but ever since she'd watched her friend suffer abuse in silence as a teenager, whenever she saw an injustice, she had a hard time keeping her mouth shut. That was one of the reasons she became an investigative reporter. It certainly wasn't for the low pay or the lousy hours. “I couldn't just let him hurt Walter, now, could I?” She tugged on the dog's leash and led him toward their car. He waddled alongside her, his tongue hanging out of his mouth making him look as though he was smiling.

Logan came up on the other side of her and seized her by her elbow, halting her in her tracks. “What are you doing? We can't take a dog with us on the run.”

No, she supposed it wasn't ideal to add him to the chaos of the situation, but she couldn't just leave him here without anyone to take care of him. Besides, she'd always wanted a dog. With eight kids under eighteen in the house at once, her father hadn't let her have a pet, stating it was too much responsibility. Once she left home, she was too busy at school and then with her career to have a pet waiting for her at home. There were days she worked on a big story and never made it home at all. Not too difficult since she'd suffered from insomnia for years.

But this dog needed her and she wouldn't abandon him.

Figuring Logan required a little cajoling, she subtly batted her eyelashes at him. “It'll be fine. How much trouble could one little dog be?”

His eyes narrowed into slits. Figured he didn't buy her flirtatious act. Kate and Danielle had told her about Doms and how they could see through the bullshit. She hadn't quite believed them, but it appeared as though they hadn't been lying.

“Fine,” he said, surprising her. “Just until we get to our first stop and then we'll figure out what to do with him.”

She sighed dramatically. It wasn't worth arguing about right now. Once he spent some time with the dog and realized he wouldn't be a problem, he'd capitulate. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

“You're mocking me.” He opened his car door, one hand on top of the car. “His name's Walter?”

She scooped up the dog in her arms and settled inside the passenger seat with the animal on her lap. “Yep.”

“That's what it says on his tag?”

“No.” Walter collapsed on her thighs with a sigh and began to lick her hand. “His tag says his name's Brutus, but he doesn't look like a Brutus to me, so I'm changing it.”

Logan glanced at her as he started the car, lines creasing his forehead. “Why Walter?”

“I'm naming him after the man who inspired my career.” She cupped the dog's face in her hands and turned him toward Logan. “Besides, this dog has the same eyebrows.”

Driving down the road, Logan didn't smile at her attempt at a joke. Instead, he looked so deep in thought, she wasn't even sure if he heard her. And that bothered her. Not because he was ignoring her, but because she felt as though she'd done something wrong and she wasn't used to that feeling. Or at least she didn't normally care if she had. It came with the job.

Until she'd met Kate, she hadn't had a true friend since high school, too obsessed with school and her career to really put the energy into a friendship. Now she had three girlfriends—Kate, Danielle, and Lisa—who somehow didn't run the other way when they saw her coming. They called her out on her crap and accepted her into their little circle without reservation. She didn't have to worry about doing something wrong because they were used to it. They even expected it.

The silence in the car was deafening. Uncomfortable by it, she wiggled in her seat. After a few minutes, she blew out a breath. “You're not really upset that I caused a scene, are you?”

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he didn't respond for a couple of beats. Then he glanced at the dog before returning his attention to the road ahead of him. “No,” he said quietly. “You surprised me, that's all.”

“Why?”

“You stuck your neck out for a dog.” His eyes briefly met hers. Just long enough for the heated intensity of them to make her shiver. He ground his teeth, jerking his gaze away all too soon. “That man could've hurt you.”

She shrugged, her lips tugged up in a half smile. For a moment, she could almost believe he cared about her. But she wasn't deluding herself. It was obvious to her that Logan was in love with his law partner—her best friend Kate—despite Kate being in a collared relationship with Jaxon Deveroux. It was Rachel's job as a reporter to dig deeper than the surface and examine subtleties. Maybe other people couldn't see it, but whenever Kate was in the room, Logan's eyes, filled with longing, tracked her every move.

Petting the dog, she peered out the passenger-side window at the miles of browning grassy fields. Logan didn't feel anything more than a little lust and a whole lot of disgust for her. No one really understood her, and she couldn't blame anyone because she rarely gave a person the chance. She realized she put people off with her brash manner and her singular drive to be the best of the best professionally, but it had never bothered her.

Until now.

And she didn't like it one bit. He meant nothing to her, and she meant even less to him. So why had a ball of disappointment settled in her belly?

“If I believe in something, I don't let anything stand in my way.” Needing a distraction, she switched on the radio. “Mind if I put on some music?” She settled on a popular song and sat back in her seat.