Logan

by Melissa Foster

  She looked up at him with a curious gaze. “And did you? Prove something, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “I never knew what it was I was proving. I just knew I needed to fight for my country like other people were.”

  “Then you did what you set out to do.”

  She said it so simply, and he’d never thought of it as being simple. He’d been trying to figure out exactly what he had to prove. He wasn’t proving anything at all. He was doing what he thought was right.

  They drove down the long two-lane road toward town. It was a sleepy road lined with meadows on each side.

  “My worst fear is that my mom will die before I see her again. She has cancer. She was responding well to the treatments when I left, but I…” She turned away, and he knew she was staving off tears.

  “You’ll see her again, Stella. I promise.” He pulled her closer.

  “I hope so. She’s strong. That’s where I get it from. She’s determined to beat it, and I hate that I had to leave, but I was worried he would hurt her.”

  “I know.” He was sure her mother did, too. “What about your father?”

  She shrugged. “I never knew him. My mom was only nineteen when she had me, and he took off. It’s fine, though. I don’t feel like I’ve missed out by not having a father. My mom more than made up for it. We’re so close. I just miss her so much.”

  Wide cobblestone streets and old-fashioned storefronts came into view.

  “Logan, is this Sweetwater?”

  He was still trying to tamp down his renewed anger toward Kutcher for forcing her out of her life and away from her mother. “Yeah,” he managed.

  “I love the way these Victorian houses are painted. They’re so colorful. It feels very old-fashioned, the way they’re mixed in with the old stores.” The excitement in her voice surprised Logan, and then he remembered how practiced she was at moving past her pain and sadness.

  He turned inward and cold when he tried to do that, but she somehow maintained her warmth and positive outlook.

  “You’re a remarkable person, Stella.” He kissed her again.

  “Hardly.”

  She pointed at a market with a green awning over the entrance. Family owned markets and boutiques took the place of chain grocery and department stores. Unlike in New York City, most of the residents in Sweetwater had grown up here. They gave meaning to the old saying It takes a village to raise a child and carried that forward toward the elderly, the ill, the sad, the happy, and everything in between.

  “This is beautiful, but I don’t understand why I can’t stay at the cabin. You said I was safe there.”

  Stella had acted hot and cold all morning, as if she vacillated over trusting that his feelings were sincere. Logan felt her hesitation with every layer of armor she peeled away, but he wasn’t deterred. The article he’d read about Stella and her mother had painted a picture of a loving daughter who took care of her ailing mother, and as Stella softened toward him, it was easy to reassemble the image of who she’d been. Now he needed to make her world safe, so she could go back to being that person again, and be reunited with her mother.

  “I’m not comfortable leaving you alone.”

  “But you said I was safe. How can I be safer here? Out in the open? What if you’re wrong and someone tailed us?”

  “We weren’t tailed. Have a little faith in me. I am a PI, you know.” He shook his head and smiled. “You’ll enjoy it here.”

  She smiled as Sugar Lake came into view.

  “That’s Sugar Lake.”

  “It’s pretty.” She laced her fingers with his. “Who’s the girl you’re handing me off to again?”

  Logan parked in front of Sweetie Pie Bakery, owned by Willow Dalton, a friend of Logan’s. A bright pink awning gave way to two large picture windows. He cut the engine and faced Stella. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves. She wore a loose turquoise tank top, a pair of jeans, and a wary look in her beautiful eyes.

  “I’m not handing you off. I’m hoping to give you a few hours of remembering what it was like to live without watching your back. You’ll like Willow, and you might get to meet her sister, Bridgette. She owns the Secret Garden florist shop next door.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “I met Willow a few years ago, when I found her skinny-dipping on my property.”

  “Oh.” Jealousy filled that word as she tried to take her hand from his.

  Logan held on tight. “She’s a friend, Stella. Willow’s great. You’ll love her. In fact, she’s a lot like you.”

  The furrow didn’t leave her brow as her eyes rolled skeptically over him. “If she’s like me, did you hook up with her?”

  “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Logan smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, I don’t sleep with every pretty girl I see. I don’t know what makes a person attracted to one person instead of another, but I can assure you, she’s like the smart-ass sister I never had, and I’ve never hooked up with her. More important, you’ll like her.” Logan had met Willow shortly after his father had died, and although she’d been embarrassed about being caught skinny-dipping, and he’d been angry and still reeling from his father’s death, they’d had an instant kinship. She’d seen his sadness and his anger, and rather than run, she’d put her clothes back on and taken a walk with Logan, pulling answers from him like a dentist pulls teeth, one painful moment at a time. Willow’s friendship had helped him that weekend, and in the years since, her family had become like a second family to him.

  Logan came around to Stella’s side of the truck and helped her out. “Sweetheart, you wear tension like a second set of clothes, and for good reason, but…” He pulled her into an embrace. Her body remained rigid against him. He crashed his lips over hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue in a wet, sloppy kiss that made them both laugh.

  She laughed as she wiped her mouth. “That was like a bad Jim Carrey movie kiss.”

  “Made you relax, didn’t it? I’ll make it up to you later.” He took her very relaxed hand, glad she’d laughed the tension away.

  “You bet you will,” she mumbled.

  Bells sounded above them as they walked into the bakery and were assaulted by an aroma of sugary goodness that made Logan’s mouth water.

  “Oh my God. I think I want to live here and smell this all day long,” Stella said quietly.

  Willow’s blond head popped up from behind one of the glass displays.

  “Logan!” She practically scaled the counter to get to him. He shot a look at the arched entranceway that led to Bridgette’s flower shop to see if he’d be mauled from both directions, but he didn’t see Bridgette. They loved to double-team him and bowl him over.

  “Logan! Honey, I’ve missed you.” Willow threw her arms around him and kissed him smack on the lips, then turned a wide smile to Stella and pulled her into an equally enthusiastic hug. Willow was in her midtwenties and was tall and curvy. She had a big personality rivaled only by the size of her heart. “You must be Stella. You’re every bit as pretty as Logan said you were.”

  “Hi.” Stella looked at Logan and mouthed, You told her I was pretty?

  He shrugged, loving the look of appreciation in her eyes.

  Willow took a step back and held Stella’s hands. “Honey, Logan doesn’t ever bring women around, and I mean ever. I was worried the guy would end up alone with a house full of porn, if you know what I mean.”

  “Hey,” Logan protested halfheartedly.

  “Not that he doesn’t have every girl in this town after him.” Willow tossed her thick braid over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “So, I hear Logan has to go do guy things, and you get to spend the day with me. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

  “Thanks, Willow,” Logan said.

  “Yes, thank you. I won’t be any trouble. I could have stayed at his cabin—”

  “Nonsense.” Willow swatted the air. “First of all, why would you stay in that cabin all by yourself when you could
be here with me?” She leaned in close and whispered, “I’m fun, trust me. Did he tell you how we met?”

  “Hey, Willow. Don’t take her skinny-dipping.”

  Stella turned mischievous eyes in his direction. God, he loved seeing that spark in her eyes.

  “Jealous? Maybe we’ll skinny-dip in Sugar Lake.” Stella arched a brow.

  Logan scrubbed his hand down his face. “What have I done?”

  Willow put a muffin in a bag and handed it to Logan. “Go on. Go do your boy things. We’ll be fine.” She shooed him toward the door.

  He reached for Stella and lowered his voice. “You okay? You have the phone I gave you?”

  “Actually, I’m fine now. And I have the phone.” She hugged him and whispered, “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t resist giving her a soft kiss.

  “Oh my goodness. Get out of here before you have her all googly-eyed. I’m gonna get to know this chickadee and make sure you’re not too bad of an influence on her. Go.” Willow shooed him out again.

  ***

  BY MIDDAY STELLA felt more comfortable than she had since she left Mystic. Willow was easy to talk to, a good listener, and warm and wonderful with each and every customer that came into the bakery. Each customer had a story to share—news of a pending birth, an upcoming event for a church group, a cousin who had hit hard times. There were too many to keep track of, and Willow listened intently, offered advice, and doled out hugs and well-wishes to nearly everyone. It was easy to see how she and Logan would get along. Two people for whom helping others was stamped in their DNA.

  They were baking cookies, something Stella hadn’t done in years. It made her long for her mother even more than usual.

  “So, how did you end up with Logan? All he told me was that he was trying to track down a bad guy. I swear he’s like a modern-day Superman.” Willow took a batch of cookies from the oven and slid another tray in.

  She felt like she could open up to Willow, and more important, she wanted to. She already felt like a friend, and Stella didn’t have many friends these days.

  “This is going to sound like I’m a weak, pathetic girl, but really, I’m not.” Stella didn’t want anyone’s pity, and even though she sensed that Willow wouldn’t pity her, she still felt the need to clarify.

  “Honey, we’re all weak girls. You know that saying ‘A real woman can do things herself’? Well, I buy into the next part, too. ‘But a real man won’t let her.’ Heck, if I had a man like Logan, I’d get in trouble on purpose just to let him save me.”

  Stella felt her jaw drop open.

  Willow finished rolling out the dough before lifting her eyes to Stella. “Oh God.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m not interested in Logan. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s not that.” Stella sank into a chair. “I just realized as I was listening to you that I don’t even know how to act normal anymore. I haven’t had a girlfriend to talk to in months, and I don’t know how to react to things. Because of my life, I feel like I have to be this tough, bitchy, hard woman. I mean, I do have to or my wacko ex-boyfriend might find me and kill me. Literally. But when I hear you talk, I want to be that girl again. I want to talk about how fun it would be to be with Logan and how freaking hot he is, and I want so badly for my biggest worry to be if Logan will be late for a date.” She felt tears stinging her eyes as Willow crouched beside her.

  Stella realized she’d completely spilled her guts without even thinking about it. She was relieved to see empathy in Willow’s eyes instead of pity, and she was powerless to stop the truth from coming out. “I don’t even know how to classify what we are together. He’s rescuing me.” As the words left her lips, they felt wrong. But she was afraid to believe in what she felt and what he said he felt. In two more days Kutcher would be out, and God only knew how long it would be before he found her. She couldn’t even bear the thought.

  “First off, Logan will not let any psycho ex near you, and, honey, this is not how Logan rescues.” Willow wrapped her arms around Stella, and Stella couldn’t hold back the flood of tears that had been welling inside her for months. “Honey, I’ve known him for a few years. I’ve never seen Logan with a woman he cares about, because there haven’t been any. He keeps a professional distance from his clients, and he definitely doesn’t bring them here to Sweetwater.”

  Willow lightly touched Stella’s shoulder. “This is Logan’s second hometown. He treasures this place as much as we do. There’s only one reason Logan would bring you here. He’s not rescuing you, honey. He’s falling for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  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 e
ntered 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.