Crazy for Her (6 page)

“Logan, this is Scott Parker. Scott, meet my friend, Logan Kincaid.”

An hour later, Logan stood at the door with Dani as Jared and Scott took their leave. He held a crying Regan in his arms. She had made it clear she didn’t want them to go.

“Don’t cry, pumpkin,” Logan said, bouncing her in his arms. “You’re going to see them tomorrow.”

“Here, give her to me. She played hard. She’s tired and hungry.”

He handed the baby over. “I like your friends.”

“Especially since they agreed to babysit tomorrow so you can take me for a ride on your motorcycle. I can’t believe I let you talk me into it.”

“I promise, you’re gonna love it.” He followed her into the kitchen. “After you feed her, we need to go to the Harley dealership and buy you a helmet.”

Dani held on to Logan for dear life. For the first ten minutes, she had kept her eyes squeezed shut. He’d elected to ride south on the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Pisgah Inn for lunch. Once on the parkway with its gentle curves and slow speed limit, she ventured to open her eyes and, surprisingly, began to enjoy the ride. She didn’t loosen her grip on Logan’s waist, however, but stayed pressed against his back so tightly their helmets kept bumping.

Even during the summer, it was chilly on a motorcycle at that altitude, and she was thankful for the jacket he had insisted on buying her along with the helmet. She also thought the black leather looked badass cool on her.

They rode past a lookout, and although she’d driven on the parkway before, she had to agree it was different on a bike. It was better. It was beautiful with the blue-tinged mountains rising above her—no car roof to block the view—and the many shades of green on the valley floor thousands of feet below. Taking in a deep breath, she inhaled the spicy scent of the spruce pines. As they came out of a curve, a waterfall appeared and she grinned in delight, craning her head to look at it until it disappeared from sight.

Heaven on earth, she decided.

She braved letting go of Logan with one arm and lifted the visor on her helmet so she could feel the cool wind on her face. For the first time since her stalker appeared, she felt free, even if it was only for a few hours. Laughter bubbled up and escaped.

Logan reached back and squeezed her knee. “Having fun?” he yelled over the roar of the bike and wind.

Yes. Yes, she was having fun. She nodded, bumped his helmet with hers, and realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes!”

He gave her knee one more squeeze, then put his hand back on the handlebar. At the next curve, she leaned with him, growing more confident and no longer resisting by trying to keep her body upright.

“There you go, you got it now,” he said.

Dani grinned big and wide. She was a certified biker chick.

Logan slowed the bike and pointed. A mother deer and her spotted fawn stood at the edge of the tree line staring back at them. Could this day get any better?

Her happiness with the day had been stolen. The pan-fried trout Dani had thought delicious an hour ago now set heavy in her stomach. After lunch, they’d sat in the rocking chairs on the deck behind the Pisgah Inn, at five-thousand-feet elevation, sipping coffee and marveling over the view of the vista spread before them. From the moment she’d thrown a leg over the bike and wrapped her arms around Logan’s waist, the day had been perfect.

Now it wasn’t.

Logan stared at the motorcycle, his hands fisted at his sides. Dani looked away from the two slashed tires and surveyed the parking lot. Her stalker was there, or had been. He must have followed them, must have watched them go into the restaurant. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a shiver passing through her.

Logan pulled her next to him. “He’s gone now.”

She willingly went. “How can you be sure?”

“He wouldn’t stay after doing this, wouldn’t risk getting caught.” Logan did his own survey of the area, and her gaze followed his.

No menacing black trucks in sight, but what if he had a different truck or car? Something they weren’t aware of? She glanced at Logan. His eyes had the cold, deadly look of one aching to get his hands on the man who dared to do this to his bike.

“So, what now?” she asked.

“I’ll call the Harley shop and arrange for my bike to get picked up. Call your friends and see if they can come get us.” He unzipped his jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

She caught a glimpse of the handle of his gun, a grim reminder of his reason for being here and something she’d wanted to put aside for a few hours. Not a wise thing to do for many reasons. As soon as this was over, he would go back to his life. A pain arrowed its way through her heart. She would miss him. Better to stop this deepening affection before it grew into something unmanageable.

Unzipping one of the leather jacket’s pockets, she removed her cell and punched in Jared’s number. Scott answered, and after she finished talking to him, she waited for Logan to finish his conversation.

“Why do you think he slashed your tires?” she asked after he ended his call.

“He wants you, and I’m in the way. The question is, why? Why does he refer to you as his wife?”

“I. Am. Not. His. Wife. He’s not Evan.”

Logan reached out an arm, then pulled it back and slid both hands into his back pockets. He seemed focused on her ear, as if he didn’t want to meet her gaze. His eyes had the look of a brooding man, a man who perhaps regretted his offer of help.

She was half-tempted to send him home and deal with her stalker herself. She would have, too, if she wasn’t frightened out of her mind, not just for her safety, but more important, that of her daughter’s.

No more wishing he would kiss her again. It would be best to consider his presence strictly business. He was here to do a job, and when it was successfully completed, he would return to his life with the magnificent Maria. Or perhaps the ice princess, Suzanne. Whichever, it wouldn’t be Dani Prescott.

Suddenly, his gaze left her ear and focused on her, so intently that she grew uncomfortable under his stare. Why was he looking at her as if she were someone he’d never seen before?

“Logan?”

Not answering, he turned away. Dani stood next to the bike and watched him walk to the edge of the drop-off. He looked out over the panorama of mountain peaks, the valleys below, and the vast sky. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he blame her for the mess they were in? If he didn’t want to be here, all he had to do was say so.

She sat on the bike’s seat and prepared to wait for Jared and Scott. Logan hadn’t moved from his spot at the edge of the mountain, his rigid posture warning her to keep her distance. Fine, if that was the way he wanted it, she would oblige him. She just wished she knew what his problem was.

CHAPTER SEVEN

L
ogan was disgusted with himself. He had let his desires get in the way of the job he was there to do. Men got killed when their commander didn’t keep his mind on the operation. Since the risk if he FUBARed this mission was Dani’s safety, allowing his longings to divert his attention was unforgivable.

Take today. All he’d wanted was to give her a few hours of fun, maybe help her forget for a while about the deranged man fixated on her. Had he once considered that the man would follow them? Had he watched in his rearview mirrors any more than an ordinary person might? Had he been at the top of his fighting form, aware of his surroundings and anything that seemed out of place?

No.

Starting now, beginning this very second, she was a job, nothing more. It was the only way he knew how to shut down his hunger for her. Christ, but the few hours of fun that morning had been remarkable. He recalled her laughing with the joy of it, the intimacy of squeezing her knee, the moment she first leaned with him into the curve. These were the things that made him inattentive and would get her hurt if he didn’t get a grip.

It was high time to get his game face on and allow no distractions. There would be no more mistakes. He glanced over his shoulder. Dani sat on his motorcycle, her eyes alert to the activity in the parking lot, looking everywhere but at him. He walked to her.

“Why don’t you go inside where you’ll be more comfortable? I’ll wait here until help arrives.”

She shrugged. “If you think it’s best.”

He kept his eyes on her until she was safely inside, and then he took his place on the V-Rod. It would be about two hours before anyone showed up, plenty of time to make some phone calls.

The next day, after arranging for Scott to stay with Dani, Logan borrowed her Jeep. He made a visit to the Asheville police department and explained the situation to Detective Langley.

Langley assured him the patrol cops would be on the lookout for a black Ford truck driving anywhere near Dani’s house, but that was the best they could do until the man broke the law. Although it didn’t sit well with Logan, he understood their position. As for himself, he had a lot more freedom than the cops.

Next, using the yellow pages he had torn out of Dani’s phone book, he started visiting motels, beginning with the closest to her house. On his fifth stop, he hit pay dirt. At the Mountain View Motel, the desk clerk nodded when Logan described the truck.

“Had one like that in the parking lot off and on for the past month. Guy comes and goes. Checked out yesterday.”

Logan tempered his excitement. Didn’t mean it was their guy. “What was his name?”

“John Smith.”

He raised a brow. The clerk stared back at him, his expression blank. Logan opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty, and slid it across the counter where it disappeared into the man’s pocket.

“His name?”

The clerk smirked. “John Smith.”

“I’m not fond of games.” Logan resisted the urge to wipe the ill-advised grin off the smartass, but his wish to do so must have showed.

The man’s smirk disappeared and he took a step back. “That’s the name he gave me, mister. Shit, half the men checking in here are named John Smith. I could hold a Smith family reunion most any day of the week.”

Damn. Logan picked up a pen and a flyer for pizza delivery and wrote his cell number on it. “If he comes back, you call me.” He turned to leave.

“Why should I?”

He stepped back to the desk. “Because if you don’t, you’ll wish you had. But if you do, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You a bounty hunter?”

Logan’s chuckle held no humor in it. “You might say that.” At the door, he paused. “Do you get the license plate numbers?”

The clerk nodded. “Don’t know why I bother, though. Most are made up.”

“So you don’t get the plate numbers yourself?”

“Too much trouble. I just ask them to write it down when they sign the registration form.”

Logan let the door close and returned to the desk. “What number did John Smith
give you?”

Pulling a spindle speared to the top with sheets of paper from under the counter, the man thumbed through them, finally handing one over. Logan glanced at it, then folded it and put it in his pocket.

“Hey, I might need that someday,” the clerk said.

Logan pulled another twenty out of his pocket, set it on the counter, but kept his hand over it. “Just how badly do you think you might need it?”

“Not all that bad.”

Once outside, Logan scanned the area. Why the dive bore the name Mountain View was a puzzle. The only view was that of a biker bar, a laundromat, and an abandoned auto-repair shop. The only cars in the motel parking lot were an older-model Chevy, Dani’s Grand Cherokee, and a Volkswagen bus with daisies and peace signs hand-painted on it, parked in front of one of the rooms.

He unlocked the Cherokee’s door, slid inside, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
Where are you, John Smith?
Taking out his phone, he called Buchanan, gave him the probably fake plate number, and told him to run a check.

“Got a state to go with that number, boss?”

He glanced at the paper. There was a place for an address, but it was blank. “No, just a name and that number.”

“What’s the name?”

“John Smith.”

Logan hung up on Buchanan’s laughter. He spent another hour checking out motels with no luck. Frustrated, he turned for home. Correction. Dani’s home. What he should do is go back to Pensacola and send Buchanan to Asheville to protect Evan’s wife. Along with that thought came the urge to bloody Buchanan’s nose. Romeo couldn’t resist a pretty lady, and Logan had overheard one woman refer to Buchanan as one hot hunk of a man. Not happening.

He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Where the hell was this asshole? Had Buchanan been able to lift any fingerprints off the bear? Logan shook his head in disgust. He should’ve asked when he had him on the phone. More proof he was so far off his game, he wasn’t even in the right ballpark. The Iceman never missed important details like that, but his other persona was still AWOL.

What he needed was intel, and he should have spent the past few days gathering information and searching for John Smith instead of acting like a besotted fool. As he steered the Cherokee around a curve on the road to Dani’s house, he mentally compiled and prioritized a list of things he needed to do.

Dani’s Jeep jerked forward as the crunch of metal against metal grated in Logan’s ears. His gaze jerked to the rearview mirror, a black Ford truck filling his vision. He floored the gas pedal in an attempt to pull away, but the Jeep was already veering toward the embankment.

The black truck caught the left side of the Jeep’s bumper, and the driver increased his speed, causing Dani’s SUV to veer off the road. The Jeep’s right front wheel dipped as it slid over the edge of the slope.

Shit. As he sailed through the air, he regretted his treatment of Dani since the slashing of his motorcycle’s tires. The last thing he’d seen in her eyes was hurt at the cold shoulder he’d given her. It was fucking sad her last memory of him would be how he’d turned his back on her.

The Jeep hit the ground about halfway down the incline, then tumbled end over end, taking down small trees on its wild ride. Logan’s last thought was that the Iceman would have seen the danger coming.

Dani lifted the blinds and peeked out. It would be dark soon. Where was Logan?

“A watched pot never boils.”

She dropped the blinds and looked at Scott. “What does that have to do to with anything?”

He muted the baseball game. “Just saying. Peeking out the window every two minutes isn’t going to make him appear. You’re as squirrelly as a nut-hiding squirrel.”

Dani laughed—his intention, she was sure. “Sorry. I know Logan’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself better than most. It’s just that he should have been back by now.”

“Mr. I Can Kill You With My Little Finger is just fine, darling. Why don’t you fix us a cup of that special blend of green tea of yours and come sit with me? The Marlins are tied with the Braves in the bottom of the sixth.”

“Okay.” Not that she would be able to enjoy watching a game with Scott as much as she usually did, not until Logan was safely home. Something was wrong. He would have called if he were going to be this late. Unable to resist one more look out the window, she saw Jared’s car turn into her driveway.

“Jared’s here.”

Scott’s face lit up. Dani tried not to envy that he was in a loving relationship. She cherished her friendship with Scott and Jared, enjoyed being around them, but sometimes it was hard. Their happiness was a reminder of all she had lost.

“Sorry, would have been here sooner, but had to go around the long way,” Jared said, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he entered. “Cops had the road closed because of an accident.”

Was it possible for one’s heart to take a dive to one’s toes? Yes. Yes, it was. “Something’s happened to Logan,” she said, grabbing Jared’s hand. “Scott, stay with Regan. Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone but me, Jared, or Logan.” She dragged Jared outside.

“Whoa.” Jared pulled her to a stop. “What the hell, Dani?”

“It’s Logan. I know it is. Please, I have to go to him.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “I hope you’re wrong, but you have to calm down. If it’s him, you won’t do him any good like this.”

He was right. She took deep, calming breaths and then pushed away. “Let’s go.”

Jared followed her to his Mustang and opened the passenger door before jogging around to the driver’s side.

Several miles down the road, Jared slowed as they approached a police car positioned across the two-lane country road. The cop leaning against the hood held up a hand, then approached them. “Sorry, this road is closed for at least another hour. You can go around by taking Rambling Creek Road, left on Graveyard Street, then another left at Two Branch Road. That’ll bring you back to Woodvine.”

Dani shivered at the officer’s mention of Graveyard Street. Every time she drove by it, she wondered who would willingly live on a road with such a name. She opened the door and jumped out of the Mustang.

The officer stepped in front of her. “Ma’am, please get back in the car.”

Jared stepped up beside her before she could scream at the cop to let her by. He placed his hand under her elbow and gently squeezed. She pressed her lips together and let him explain.

“Can you tell us what kind of car it was?” Jared asked.

“A red Grand Cherokee.”

“Oh God,” Dani whispered, and grabbed hold of Jared’s arm.

“That’s her car, officer. She loaned it to her friend. Is he—”

“He’s alive,” the cop interrupted. “Come with me.”

Ahead, Dani saw an ambulance, a fire truck, and several police cars parked on the road, but there was no sign of her Cherokee. Had they towed it away already? When they were within a few yards of the ambulance, she pulled her hand out of Jared’s and ran. Wearing a bandage on his head, Logan sat on a stretcher—his legs dangling over the side—talking to a man wearing a suit.

“Logan!”

He grimaced, not looking pleased to see her. “Sorry about your Jeep, Dani.”