Logan (11 page)

BETWEEN THE INFORMATION Logan had been able to gather through his sources yesterday and the calls he made on the way to Connecticut after dropping Stella off with Willow, he knew exactly where to find Bob Kanets. Kanets had spent more time in jail than out in his thirty-eight years. There were smart criminals, the ones who knew how to beat the system, how to cover their asses and let someone else take the fall when the police were hot on their trail. Then there were guys like Kanets. Guys who hung out in back alleys, dealt drugs in broad daylight, and fought like dogs when they were caught, which only drove the nail further into their coffins. He’d gotten out of prison eight weeks ago and had gone right back to the path that had led him there in the first place—drug dealing on the outskirts of Mystic.

Logan sat in the rental car he’d secured when he’d arrived in Mystic, across the street from the abandoned warehouse where Kanets was known for dealing. The place looked like every seedy drug drop depicted in low-budget movies. It was an abandoned redbrick school building with half the windows boarded up, the other half broken out, leaving gaping black holes like missing teeth in an ancient mouth. Ivy snaked across the left side of the building, climbing over and into the holes. Two banged-up air-conditioning units hung from windows on the top floor, sagging and brown with age. Concrete steps led to entrances on opposite ends of the front of the building. From his vantage point, Logan saw a few feet into each entrance. The white interior walls were streaked with filth and colorful graffiti. Half of the steps to the right were buried beneath overgrown weeds. The entrance on the left was free of vegetation but littered with broken glass and cans. He’d already checked out the back of the building, where there was one entrance covered with spiderwebs from the railings to the wall. There was thick dirt, free of footprints, covering the steps. No one had frequented that entrance, at least not anytime recently. He’d been casing the building for an hour and a half. He’d seen two guys go in, and only one had come out. Logan was biding his time.

He checked his phone and assumed no texts from Stella was a good sign. He knew she was in good hands with Willow. Willow and her family had embraced Logan as if he were family, and he knew she’d do the same with Stella.

Stella
. She’d appeared in his life out of nowhere and had slithered under his skin without even trying. Fate must have been on his side when he completed his assignment in Memphis early. If he hadn’t been in town, God only knew what would have happened to Stella that night at the bar. His skin crawled just thinking about the possibilities.

His phone flashed with a call from an unknown number, but he let it go to voicemail. He needed to remain focused on getting things under control for Stella. He called Marco and confirmed that Winters was still behaving. As he ended the call, the lanky guy with waist-length hair he’d seen enter the building earlier came out. The guy shoved his hands in his pockets and lumbered down the road with his eyes trained on the ground.

Logan checked his gun and slid it into the shoulder holster beneath the flannel shirt he wore open over a wrinkled T-shirt. He’d changed into his scumbag clothes so as not to stand out. He buried his fingers in his hair and scrubbed. Between his unshaven cheeks, mussed hair, wrinkled clothes, and torn and dirty sneakers, he should fit right in with Kanets’s usual prospects. He stepped from the rental car, head bowed, eyes darting, and ducked around the side of the building, which looked as sordid as the front, then entered the building as silently as the wind, heading up the stairs toward the second floor, where he’d seen Kanets earlier through one of the missing windows.

He stole a glance into the room before tucking himself against the wall in the hallway. In two seconds flat he’d taken in Kanets’s stringy blond hair, his rail-thin, rounded shoulders, and his lanky body as he paced by the missing window with a pistol in the back of his pants. The room was empty save for a dented metal desk pushed against one wall. It was hardly a gamble that Kanets had drugs on him. Possession of drugs and a weapon while on parole would mean an easy five years minimum.

Logan had made his mark.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, bowed his head, and staggered into the room. Kanets spun around.

“You Kanets?” Logan spoke in a bored drawl.

“Who wants to know?” Kanets’s eyes jumped around the room as Logan casually closed the distance between them, shrugging.

“Kutcher sent me.” Logan kept his head bent, which went against everything he’d ever been taught, but he knew how to play this scared rat.

“Cool. Can’t wait until he’s out to take care of his own shit. Whatchu need?”

“Just some blast, man. Kutcher said you got it.”
Blast
was the street term for injectable cocaine powder, which was Kanets’s bread and butter.

Kanets lifted his chin toward the desk. “In the drawer.”

Logan eyed Kanets’s pockets, noting the telltale bulge. He was reasonably sure he had drugs on him, which would make this much easier than trying to nail him with drugs in the room.
Idiot
. Logan walked toward the desk, and as if on cue, Kanets stepped in closer. Logan waited for Kanets to step behind him. In the next second Logan had Kanets’s right arm wrenched behind his back, Kanets’s face pressed to the top of the metal desk.

“You can thank Kutcher,” Logan growled between clenched teeth as he took Kanets’s pistol and tucked it into the back of his own pants.

“What the fuck?” Kanets spat.

Logan let him rattle on. He was just dumb enough to hang himself.

“Motherfucker. What’s he think? I’m cheatin’ him? The asshole.”

“He is an asshole.” Logan almost felt sorry for Kanets. He was such a dumbass.

“Motherfuckin’ right, he’s an asshole. I’m not cheatin’ him. Take the drugs, man. Take the cash. It’s in my pocket. Take it all. I don’t give a fuck.”

“If I wanted the drugs, you’d be dead and I’d be gone.”

“What?” Kanets’s voice cracked. “No, no, no. Motherfuck.” His body began to shake. “No, man. Don’t kill me. I’ll get him the cash. Every fucking cent.”

Bingo
.

“Only a fool would try to scam Kutcher.” Logan pressed the muzzle of his gun harder against Kanets’s head. Kanets bucked, trying to break free of Logan’s vise grip.
Keep trying, prick. You’re going nowhere fast
.

“Hey, man. Wait. Wait, man. I got…gotta…idea.”

I bet you do
.

“I’ll give you his money. Yeah, yeah. That’s it. The drugs, too. Then you can take off and sell it. It’s gotta be more than he’s paying you to off me.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m a private investigator. I’m not with Kutcher. I’m nailing him.”

“Fuck, man.”

“Shut up.” This was too easy. He was putty in Logan’s hands. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to take you down to the station, and you’re going to tell
those
motherfuckers everything you know about Kutcher. The dealing he’s doing from the pen, who his customers are, the whole load of shit.” After the police had given up looking for his father’s killer, Logan had lost a lot of respect for the men in blue, but there was about an ounce left. Enough to know how to play the fucking game when he was in their presence. Beyond that, Logan did things his own way.

“Got it?” Logan twisted his arm to send his message home.

“I’m not going back to jail. No fucking way. You can kill me.”

“That’s a shame. I kinda liked this T-shirt. Guess I can wash the blood out.” He let out a bored breath, and Kanets flailed harder.

“Wait!”

Logan crushed Kanets’s face into the desk again. “You fucking ready to play, or you wanna die? My trigger finger is mighty itchy. I’ll get you a fucking plea bargain for ratting out Kutcher, but if you fuck up…” Logan leaned down and spoke in a threateningly low tone. “I’ll take great pleasure in killing you.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll fucking do it.”

“Louder. You’ll do what?” Logan demanded.

“I’ll fucking snitch, man. I’ll tell them everything.”

“Good boy, because possession of drugs and a firearm while on parole is some nasty shit. And this…” He tapped Kanets’s head with his gun. “This is the only alternative you’ve got.”

STELLA BOXED A dozen muffins for a customer and rang up her purchase. After she’d bared her soul to Willow, which she’d followed with a brief wallow in embarrassment, Stella had been forced to find her footing again. Willow hadn’t allowed her to wallow for more than a few minutes. She had set her hands on her ample hips, leveled a determined stare at Stella, and said,
Honey, you’ve got a wicked hot man out there fighting for your life, a funny chick standing right here, ready to have some fun, and you want to waste your energy on being embarrassed? You go right ahead, but I’m going to eat a cupcake.
She proceeded to take the biggest bite Stella had ever seen of a white cupcake with pink frosting. After finishing that one, Willow had licked each finger and grabbed another.

“You’d better get yours fast. Otherwise they’ll all be gone. Trust me, this girl knows how to eat.” Willow ate half of the second cupcake in one bite and then flashed a toothy smile.

That was several hours ago, and since then Stella had been having so much fun helping customers and baking that she’d almost forgotten about Kutcher.
Almost
. The problem was she definitely hadn’t forgotten about Logan, and every time her mind drifted to him, she remembered where he was. And then she’d feel a little queasy, until the bakery got busy again and sidetracked her thoughts.

After Stella rang up the muffins, she went to help a young couple who was waiting, but Willow came out of the kitchen, patted her shoulder as she whizzed by, and beat her to it. Now, with a moment to think, Stella’s mind turned back to Logan. He hadn’t told her what he was going to do.
Important PI stuff
could mean anything. She envisioned him with all sorts of expensive equipment, scoping out…What? Kutcher was in jail, due to get out in two days. Her stomach sank again. She had no idea what Logan was doing, but she’d seen him carry two duffel bags to the truck when they were getting ready to leave. She hoped that whatever it was, he was safe.

A tall blond woman with wild curls flew through the doors, sending the bells above the doors into a frenzy. She wore a billowy long skirt and a fitted top that made her appear younger than her wise eyes conveyed.

“Wow! What a glorious day!” The woman set a box on the counter with a loud
thump
and pushed her springy curls from her face. She narrowed her eyes at Stella, shifted a curious gaze to Willow, then back to Stella.

“That’s Stella, Mom,” Willow said from where she was bent over behind the counter, plucking cookies from the display and boxing them for the couple.

Mom?

Willow’s mother’s eyes widened, and a warm smile appeared.

“Oh, honey.” She motioned for Stella to come around the counter. “Come over here. Let me see you.” Willow obviously came by her high energy naturally.

Stella stepped nervously around the counter. She had a feeling she was in for scrutiny and wasn’t sure she was up for it, even with all the fun she’d had with Willow.

“Hi, Mrs. Dalton. I’m…” She hesitated out of habit, and realized Willow already knew her real name and she’d already revealed it to her mother. Logan must really trust them to have shared her true identity. She wasn’t sure why that hadn’t clicked earlier. Probably because Willow had instantly made her feel comfortable.

“Stella Krane. It’s nice to meet you.”

Willow’s mom waved a dismissive hand. “
Pfft
. Call me Roxie, honey. The only one allowed to call me Mrs. Dalton is…Well, I can’t think of a darn soul around here.” She tugged Stella into a hug, crushing her so hard against her chest that she could barely breathe.

“So you’re Logan’s girl. Nice man, that Logan Wild.” She took Stella’s hand and led her to one of the tables by the window.

Stella stole a glance at Willow, ringing up the couple’s purchase. Willow shrugged and smiled, as if this was how life was around here. Stella shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Logan’s girl?
What had he told them?

Roxie leaned across the table and took Stella’s hands in her own. “Oh, sugar. What is that trouble I see brewing in your eyes?”

Am I
that transparent?

Roxie patted Stella’s hand. The couple left the bakery, making the bells sound again. Stella looked at the door, over at Willow, anywhere except into the eyes of the warm, friendly mind reader sitting across from her.

“Don’t tell me, sugar. Just know that whatever it is, if you need to talk, Willow and I are here. Any friend of Logan’s is a friend of ours.”

Willow stood beside the table holding the box her mother had set on the counter. “Mom, I have enough soap. I’ll share it with Bridge.”

Roxie released Stella’s hands and rose to her feet. “Nonsense. You can never have enough soap.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “My mom makes her own soap and other incredibly delicious-smelling lotions and fragrances.”

“Did I see Mom’s car?” Another tall blonde, with a little boy perched on her hip, came through the archway that led from the flower shop. Stella quickly realized it was Bridgette, Willow’s older sister. Willow had raved about Bridgette and her three-year-old son, Louie. The only similarities between the sisters were their friendly smiles and their green eyes. Bridgette’s shoulder-length hair was wavy and thick with multiple shades of blond and brown, while Willow’s was as blond as blond could be, and her braid hung almost to her waist.

“There’s my little pumpkin.” Roxie reached for Louie.

“Grandma Roxie!” He wrapped his lithe arms around her neck and hugged her with all his might. Roxie glanced over her shoulder at Stella. “Nice to meet you, Stell. I’m going to take my boy into the flower shop and see what he’s been up to in there.”

Stella felt a pang in her heart at the scene unfolding before her. She longed to see her mother, to know how she was feeling and to feel her arms around her.

No sense pining over something I might never be able to do again
.

As she’d done so many times before, she tucked thoughts of her mother away and focused on Willow and her family. Bridgette was less animated and much leaner than curvy Willow, though they were both equally beautiful.

Bridgette reached into the box, and Willow turned the box away from her with a mischievous smile.

“Willow!” Bridgette smiled at Stella and rolled her eyes, like this was a familiar battle. “Hi. I’m Bridgette, and that little monkey was my son, Louie.”

Stella returned the smile. “Hi, I’m Stella. A friend of Logan’s.”

Bridgette and Willow exchanged a glance that told of sisterly secrets. Stella felt a pang of longing again. She was envious of the energy between the two girls, and it made her long for friendships again. She’d become an expert at ignoring her loneliness, but being here with Willow today brought it all to the forefront.

Bridgette set an assessing gaze on her.

“What?” Stella asked with a hint of confusion.

“Logan doesn’t bring
friends
here,” Bridgette said. “We’ve met one of his hot brothers, but otherwise, he comes alone.”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Willow said with an air of confidence. When Stella opened her mouth to respond, Willow handed the box of soap to Bridgette and held a palm up to Stella. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of this, but you could do a lot worse than Logan. He’s the nicest guy around, and easy on the eyes, too.” Bridgette glanced in the box. “Take what you want and I’ll put the rest in the pantry so we can share them, Will.”

Willow plucked a few bars of soap from the box. The door opened behind them, and they all turned. Logan’s eyes zeroed in on Stella. Her pulse quickened as he placed his hand on her hip, and pressed his lips to hers. She stole a glance at Willow and Bridgette, and they were both smiling.

They looked at each other and said in unison, “Definitely his girlfriend.”

Stella felt her cheeks heat up and caught Logan’s confident—
proud?
—gaze. The idea that he would be proud to be with her made her stomach do that flippy thing again.

“Was there a bet placed, and if so, who lost?” Logan’s lips quirked up in a devilish grin.

“She lost.” Bridgette nodded to Stella before hugging Logan. “Good to see you.”

Louie came barreling into the bakery with Roxie on his heels. “Logan!” The little bundle of energy flung himself into Logan’s arms.

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” Everything about Logan softened as his arms circled the boy in a protective and loving embrace.

“Did you bring me anything?” Louie asked.

Bridgette touched her son’s back. “Louie, that’s not nice.”

“But he always brings me things,” Louie said as he touched Logan’s cheek with his pudgy little hand. “Don’t ya?”

Logan shifted his eyes to Bridgette, silently waiting for approval, and that thoughtful motion made Stella’s heart open to him even more. He was so different from the man she’d thought he was when she’d first seen him, and it made her realize how similar they were. Both appearing to be something they weren’t. As she watched Logan give Louie a pack of baseball cards he’d had hidden in his pocket and then crouch beside the boy as he opened them, Stella wanted to know everything about Logan. How was he so fearless when he obviously had an equally strong nurturing, loving side? Why was their connection so powerful? And what had he done today that made him look so relaxed?

“Come on, buddy. We have to get back to the flower shop,” Bridgette said as she took Louie’s hand. They said goodbye to Stella and Logan and disappeared the way they’d come.

Logan placed a hand on Stella’s lower back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She moved closer, beginning to believe it was. Logan smiled as he slid his hand around her waist to tighten his hold.

“Thank you for letting Stella spend the day here,” Logan said to Willow.

“We had fun, didn’t we, Stella?”

Stella nodded, trying to ignore the quick and disturbing thoughts that were rushing into her mind. There were fewer than forty-eight hours until Kutcher was released. She’d been able to escape it today amid the busyness of the bakery, but now there was no forcing reality away. She wanted to pretend, just for a while longer, that everything was okay. That she was a normal girl who lived a normal life like she’d done today. She wanted just a few more hours in this friendly town before she slipped into her coat of fear again.

***

LOGAN SAT ACROSS from Stella in a cozy restaurant at the edge of town, trying to read the conflicting emotions washing over her face. She hadn’t eaten much of her dinner and was pushing vegetables across her plate with her fork.

“So, do you really think this guy Kanets will rat out Kutcher? I still don’t understand how it can help. Kutcher’s getting out of jail, remember?”

Logan reached across the table for her hand, then thought better of it and came around the booth to join her on the bench seat. He draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close, needing to ease her worry but knowing he couldn’t guarantee a damn thing.

“I’ve taken every measure to make him talk, and if he doesn’t talk, then he’ll go to jail for an even longer time for possession of drugs and firearms while on parole.”

“If he’s going to jail anyway, why would he rat Kutcher out?” Stella trapped her lower lip between her teeth.

“Because he’ll go for many more years without a plea bargain. A day in jail is like a month in the free world. Have faith in me, Stella.” Logan cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. She followed it with her tongue.

He nuzzled against her cheek. “I missed you so much today. If you keep looking sexy and cute, I’m going to have to kiss you, and I may not stop with one kiss.”

“I missed you, too, and I hate when you stop with just one kiss.”

Their lips met in an urgent, demanding kiss. He slid his hand up her thigh beneath the cover of the table and swallowed the sweet moan that escaped her lungs. She grabbed his wrist and moved his hand higher. Heat permeated the rough denim. He buried his other hand in her hair and brought his mouth to her ear.

“I want to be inside you.” His tongue followed the shell of her ear, and he sucked her sensitive lobe into his mouth. He’d thought about her all day, and the prolonged anticipation was unbearable. He wanted her in his arms, naked beneath him.

Logan stole a quick look toward the front of the almost empty restaurant. He took her in another ravishing kiss and couldn’t wait a second longer. He slid from the booth and pulled her up to her feet, dragging her into the narrow hallway in the back of the restaurant that led to the restrooms and trapped her against the wall. Their mouths met in another punishing kiss. His cock throbbed as she arched into him and guided his hand between her legs again.

“Jesus, Stella. You want this,” he growled. A thread of guilt snaked into his body, and he pulled back. She was breathing hard; one hand clutched his ass, the other, his chest. He wasn’t going to be one of those guys who made her feel cheap or used, and he wasn’t going to force himself on her.

“Baby, tell me what you want. Want to go back to the cabin? Want me to back off? What do you want, darlin’?” He drew back a few inches, and she pulled him in closer.

“Bathroom.” She felt for the door with her hand, then dragged
him
by his shirt into the men’s room.

Logan locked the door and backed her up against the wall.

“You’re sure?” he asked against her lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Their mouths crashed together again. She fumbled with his jeans as he tore hers open and thrust his hand beneath her panties. She took his throbbing erection in her hand as he dipped his fingers between her legs.

“Oh,
fuck
, darlin’. You’re so damn wet.”

He thrust his tongue in her mouth as he drove his fingers into her velvety heat, and she worked him with her hand. He used his thumb to get her to the edge, wanting to make her come before he was inside her. Within seconds her head dropped back and her eyes closed. He captured her cries of pleasure in his mouth.

“That’s my girl.”

He tugged her jeans down and lifted her easily into his arms and lowered her onto his throbbing cock.