Montana Creeds: Logan

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Logan and I will come and get you.”

  Logan nodded as she spoke.

  “Do you understand?” she repeated, when Josh didn’t respond.

  “Dad’s here,” he said. The next voice she heard was Alec’s.

  “Mom? I’m scared. Dad looks really mad. Heather’s back, and he’s yelling at her—”

  She and Logan were already moving, Wanda following while the sheriff waited for the crime-scene people. “Hold on, sweetie,” she said. “I’m on my way.”

  Logan hoisted Wanda into the back of the truck and got behind the wheel, thumbing in a number on his own cell phone. “Dylan?” he said, as Briana buckled her seat belt, half listening, still trying to reassure Alec.

  “I have to go now,” Alec said.

  “Wait!” Briana cried.

  But the call was disconnected.

  “For once,” she heard Logan telling his brother, “I’m glad you’re a poker shark. Alec and Josh are in the coffee shop, and something is going down—I’m not sure what. Will you make sure nobody—and I mean nobody—takes them away before Briana and I get there?”

  Briana’s heart was pounding, and she’d broken out in a cold sweat. Fumbling with her phone, she dropped it and had to grapple around for it on the floor.

  “Thanks,” Logan said, and ended his call, shifting gears so fast that Briana was almost flung against the dashboard.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, prying the cell phone out of her hand.

  “Heather,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  Logan’s phone rang as they careened onto the county road. Poor Wanda was probably holding on for dear life in the backseat.

  “Okay,” he said, after listening for a few moments. “Be right there.”

  “Is Dylan with them?” Briana demanded.

  “Yes,” Logan said. “Jim’s there, too. The kids are all right, Briana. Just a little shaken up and confused.”

  “Vance…?”

  “He and Heather got into a shouting match,” Logan said reluctantly. “They’re being held by the security people until everything gets sorted out.” He concentrated on the road, a long ribbon of moon-washed pavement that seemed never-ending to Briana. “Take a breath, Briana. You’re okay, and so are the boys. Right now, nothing else matters.”

  “I don’t care what Vance says,” Briana ranted, “I’m not letting that woman near my children again!”

  “Let’s wait ‘til we hear everybody’s side of the story,” Logan reasoned. “It could all be a misunderstanding of some kind.”

  “Thanks, Counselor,” Briana snapped, “but weren’t you the one who just implied that Heather might have been the one who trashed my house? She could have done it while the boys were sitting in the coffee shop waiting for her to finish playing blackjack. Blackjack!“

  “I was thinking out loud. We don’t really know what happened yet, and it isn’t going to help if you blow a blood vessel before we can find out.”

  Briana folded her arms. “Give me that cell phone,” she said, the contradiction between her words and her body language barely registering.

  “No,” Logan said. “Alec and Josh are upset enough as it is.”

  “That’s why I need to talk to them!”

  “You can talk to them face-to-face in five minutes.”

  “Can’t you drive any faster?”

  “Not without breaking the sound barrier, no,” Logan said.

  He’d barely stopped in front of the casino when she leaped out of the truck and ran inside, pushing past the valet who’d tried to open the door for her.

  She found Alec and Josh in the coffee shop, sitting in a booth with Dylan, drinking milk shakes. They were both pale, and a little scruffy, but neither of them was bleeding.

  Briana reached the table, opened her mouth to speak and nearly fainted. When the blackness and the circling stars receded, Dylan was holding her up and Alec and Josh were watching her with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Sit down,” Dylan told her, easing her into the booth seat and handing her a glass of water from the next table over.

  “Where’s Jim?” she managed to ask when the room stopped spinning.

  “In the security room, with the happy couple,” Dylan said, as Logan burst into the equation.

  Somewhat to Briana’s chagrin, both boys rushed to Logan, bypassing her completely. She saw him squeeze his eyes shut briefly as he held them against his sides.

  “Can we go home now?” Alec asked, tilting his head back to look up at Logan, and still clinging to him as best he could with a cast on one arm.

  “As soon as your mother can stand up,” Logan said.

  Briana guzzled the last of the water Dylan had given her. “I want a word with Vance first,” she said.

  “That can wait,” Logan said.

  A stare-down ensued.

  Logan won it. Briana was at the end of her rope, physically and emotionally, and she needed to get the boys out of there.

  There had been enough crazy drama as it was.

  “Thanks,” she said to Dylan.

  He and Logan exchanged looks.

  “I’ll explain later,” Logan said.

  Dylan nodded. “Guess I’ll get back to my poker game,” he said. “Last hand, I had an inside straight.”

  With that, he grinned at the boys, turned and walked away to return to the poker room at the back of the casino.

  ALEC AND JOSH were too worn-out to tell the story. Logan made scrambled eggs and toast when they reached the main ranch house, while Briana got their sleeping bags ready in the living room.

  They ate—though Wanda, Snooks and Sidekick got most of what was on their plates—and Briana put them to bed.

  Logan waited in the kitchen, sipping coffee and giving her time with the kids. When she finally reappeared, she looked worn to a frazzle.

  “I guess I overreacted,” she said.

  “You’re a mother,” Logan replied, pouring coffee for her, because he still didn’t have any tea. “That’s what mothers do, isn’t it?”

  She sat down at the table. “Thanks,” she said, as he handed her the coffee. “For calling Dylan. For driving me to town and—”

  “Briana,” Logan interrupted. “Stop.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “If anything had happened to them—”

  “They’re in the living room, Briana. They’re safe. Unless you want them to be nervous wrecks for the rest of their lives, you’d better reframe this as an adventure, not a kidnapping with potentially dire consequences.”

  Her face was wet, but she was trying to smile. “You’re such a… such a—”

  He grinned. “What?”

  “Lawyer,” she finished.

  He chuckled. “That could come in handy,” he said. “If it turns out you’re right about Heather, there will be some legal issues.”

  She looked back over one shoulder, as if expecting to catch the boys eavesdropping. “Custody?”

  “Suppose we talk about that tomorrow,” he suggested. “You’re a wreck right now. You won’t be able to think straight anyway.”

  She considered that, nodded.

  Logan cupped her cheeks in his hands, stroked away her tears with the sides of his thumbs. “Just for tonight,” he said, “let me make the decisions.”

  She nodded again.

  He stood, pulled her to her feet, steered her out of the kitchen, past the already sleeping boys, and along the hall, into his room.

  “Extenuating circumstances,” he said, when she balked at lying down on the bed. “You won’t fit on the air mattress, and Dylan’s got dibs on the couch.”

  He undressed her, shoes first, then jeans, then the shirt.

  “The boys—”

  Damn, but she looked good in those lacy panties and that fussy pink bra. He’d figured her for the white cotton briefs and sports bra type, but he’d sure been wrong.

  “They’re dead to the world,” Logan reminded her. “And I’m making al
l the decisions tonight, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said, shimmying to get under the covers.

  Logan sat down on the edge of the mattress, took off his boots. Hauled his shirt off over his head, stood to unbutton his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

  Briana drew in a sharp breath.

  “Sorry.” Logan grinned. “I forgot to pack underwear when I left Vegas.”

  He switched off the bedside lamp and got into bed beside her.

  She felt cold, so he pulled her into his arms.

  “All the decisions?” she asked.

  He kissed the top of her head. “All of them,” he confirmed.

  They lay still for a long time, listening to the sounds of the old house settling as the temperature dropped.

  When Briana was warm again, Logan kissed her, working the front catch on her bra as he plundered her mouth. She stiffened briefly, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  He moved down, to her breasts, tongued her nipples, one and then the other, until she moaned, entangling her fingers in his hair.

  Then he progressed to her navel.

  She arched her back and gasped his name.

  “The walls are thick,” he murmured, against her soft, warm flesh. “Let go, Briana. It’s all right to let go.”

  “Oh my God,” she whimpered, when he reached the juncture of her thighs. “Logan… I—”

  “Shh,” he whispered, into the sweet, moist nest of curls he was about to part with his tongue.

  She gave a strangled cry when he took her full into his mouth and suckled, his hands resting under her firm buttocks. He drank of her, like a thirsty man kneeling beside a stream.

  She writhed, and pressed herself against him, her hips undulating.

  He brought her to a climax, stayed with her until she’d stopped buckling with the violent force of her release. When he looked up, he saw that she was gripping the rails in the headboard with both hands. Her breasts and belly and thighs were damp with perspiration.

  “That was—” she gasped “—that was…”

  “What?”

  “Wonderful,” she said.

  “Good,” he answered, still holding her high, nibbling at the insides of her thighs. “Because I’m about to do it again.”

  “Logan—”

  “Hmm?”

  “I don’t know if I can be quiet this time—”

  He tasted her, made her groan again. “Like I said, the walls are thick.”

  “But I—”

  He took her again.

  And the sturdy Montana logs surrounding that room absorbed her cries of pleasure, as they’d done so many times before over so many years, with so many other lovers.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DYLAN WAS UP, pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, when Logan wandered into the kitchen the next morning, well before dawn. He’d either put in a hard night on the couch or not slept at all.

  Seeing Logan, he raised his mug in a toast. His eyes were watchful, and quietly amused, as he took in Logan’s misbuttoned shirt and the jeans he’d hauled on after picking them up off the floor next to his bed.

  Snooks, Sidekick and Wanda had already been outside, apparently. They were all noshing on kibble in the far corner of the room.

  “Gotta feed the horses,” Logan said, addressing Dylan but not looking at him. He carried his boots in one hand, sat down at the table to tug them on.

  “Already done,” Dylan replied. “Coffee?”

  Logan pushed out a sigh. Last night, after all that had happened, sharing his bed with Briana had seemed like a good idea. Now, he knew she’d probably be ashamed to face Dylan, not to mention her sons.

  “Thanks,” he growled.

  Dylan chuckled, brought him a mug. Nodded toward the Our Family album still sitting on the table. “I’d like to have copies of those pictures,” he said. “Ty would, too, I imagine.”

  Logan nodded, swallowed a scalding gulp of java. “There are more. I haven’t gotten around to going through them yet.”

  Dylan hauled back a chair, turned it backward and sat. “What happened last night, Logan?” he asked quietly. Seeing Logan’s hackles rise, he held up a hand and added quickly, “Not between you and Briana. What was up with the kids? I tried to get the story out of them while we were waiting for you in the coffee shop at the casino, but they weren’t talking, even after I bribed them with milk shakes.”

  “Good news first, or bad?” Logan asked, with a halfhearted grin.

  “Bad news.”

  “Your house is going to need major work. Somebody trashed it last night. Painted the whole bedroom red.” He thought of Briana, trying to gather up her cherished pictures from the living room floor, and winced. “Briana panicked, for obvious reasons, and couldn’t reach the kids on the cell phone she gave them. They were supposed to be at a movie with their stepmother, but she took them to the casino instead and left them in the coffee shop to go play some blackjack. Right now, that’s all I know.”

  Dylan absorbed it. Ruminated for a few moments, scratching the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Same yo-yo who pilfered her lingerie drawer?”

  Logan nodded grimly. “Probably.”

  “Any locks or windows broken?”

  “No,” Logan said. “Whoever did this had a key.”

  Dylan sighed. “I didn’t have the locks changed when Briana moved in,” he said. “It was kind of a hurry-up deal, since she needed someplace to stay. Hell, nobody I rented to before bothered to lock up anyway, as far as I know. There could be keys to those doors all over Stillwater Springs.”

  “That’s comforting,” Logan told him.

  “I’ve got another movie to shoot, down in Cheyenne,” Dylan said. “Have the locks changed and get the bedroom repainted—any color but red—and I’ll settle up with you when I come back through.” Again, he sighed. “Fact is, I’d have the place bulldozed to the ground and build another house, if Briana didn’t need to live there.”

  “She’s not going back until it’s safe.”

  Dylan rubbed his gold-stubbled chin. “Where else can she go?”

  “She can stay here.”

  “If she agrees to that,” Dylan said doubtfully. “And from what I’ve seen of Briana Grant, she’s not only proud, she’s devoted to those kids. My guess? She won’t shack up with you, no matter how much she wants to, because of Alec and Josh.”

  “Thanks for the input,” Logan said, annoyed because he knew Dylan was right. Briana would rather take her chances at Dylan’s place, even risk encountering a stalker face-to-face, than set what she surely regarded as a poor moral example for her children.

  On the other hand, if she was in danger at the other house, so were Alec and Josh. And that might well tip the balance.

  “I guess you could get the furniture out of storage and set her up in Tyler’s old room,” Dylan speculated, his eyes twinkling. “Get some beds for the boys and put them in mine. That would ease her mind where Alec and Josh were concerned, but there would still be talk about it. You know how word gets around in a place like Stillwater Springs.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what people say,” Logan growled.

  “No,” Dylan said agreeably, “but I’ll bet Briana does.”

  The door to the living room swung open, and Briana came in, fully dressed and pink to her hairline.

  “Briana does what?” she asked irritably, marching to the cupboard for a cup and helping herself to coffee.

  “I’m staying out of this,” Dylan said, standing and holding his hands out wide, like a calf-roper trying to beat a clock at the rodeo. “Mind if I saddle that buckskin and ride over for a confab with Cimarron?”

  “Suit yourself,” Logan replied, relieved when Dylan immediately left the house, headed for the corral.

  Briana joined him at the table. “He knows we slept together,” she said miserably.

  “He knows you spent the night,” Logan said reasonably. “There’s a diff
erence. Besides, we’re not kids, Briana.”

  She put both elbows on the table and rubbed her face with her hands. “What am I going to do?” she asked, probably talking to herself more than to Logan. “What am I going to do?”

  “Move in with me?”

  “Call me oldfashioned,” she said, in a sharp whisper, lowering her hands to glare at him, “but I don’t live with men I’m not—” She lost some steam. “Married to,” she finished.

  “Actually, Dylan offered a half-decent suggestion, for once in his life. We could set up beds in his old room, and Tyler’s. You can’t seriously be thinking of going back—”

  “Everyone in town would know, within a day. And they wouldn’t believe for a minute that we were sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

  “I didn’t say it was a perfect suggestion, Briana. Does gossip really matter that much to you? More than being safe and—” he went ahead and played the trump card, though it pained his conscience a little “—knowing Alec and Josh are safe, too?”

  “You know perfectly well that we’d have sex—”

  “I prefer to think of it as ‘making love,’” Logan said loftily.

  “Whatever,” Briana answered, in that same hissing whisper. “I know lots of good people live together, Logan. I know I’m way behind the times. But I’m not living under the same roof with you unless—” She broke off, blushing even harder than before.

  “Unless we’re married?”

  “Like that’s going to happen. We’ve known each other for a week, Logan.” Her hands flew out at her sides. “Sure, the sex is good—it’s better than good—but…”

  He took her hand. “But…?” he prompted.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Why are we even talking about this, anyway? It’s crazy!”

  “Is it?” Logan countered. He probably looked and sounded calm on the outside, but inside his heart was thrumming and his brain was echoing Briana’s sentiment—it was crazy. He was a two-time loser, when it came to marriage. They were virtually strangers to each other. And yet—Briana gaped at him, speechless.

  “We could be married in three days,” he heard himself say. “Approach it like a business deal. You get what you want—security and a good name—and I get what I want. A wife and kids.”