Logan's Redemption

by Cara Marsi

  “What if I did?” Looking defiant, Dan fisted his hands on the desk. “Bryce is a friend. He paid back every cent. He hasn’t gambled in years. I’d know if he was at it again.”

  Logan leaned closer. “How can you be sure? And what about the mob? Could he still have ties with them?”

  Anger flashed from Callahan’s eyes. “I’m sure he’s not gambling or involved with the mob.”

  Logan took another sheet of paper from the envelope and handed it to Dan.

  Dan’s face flushed as he perused the paper. “What’s this?”

  “Could be why Mr. James needs a little extra cash,” Logan said.

  Dan slid the paper back to Logan. “Those are just copies of receipts. They mean nothing.”

  “His name is on the receipts,” Logan said. “Do you pay him enough for diamond bracelets and top hotel rooms?”

  “Where did you get these?” Dan asked.

  “I’m in the security business,” Logan said. “There’s not much information I can’t get. And I think we can be very sure that James isn’t spending this money on his wife.”

  Dan’s features tightened. “Who is she? The home wrecker? You must have her name.”

  “I can’t share that information yet.” Logan didn’t want to implicate Candi if she had no part in the thefts. If he found she was involved, he would have no choice but to tell Dan.

  “You’re implying that Bryce is selling the bids?” Callahan asked.

  Logan nodded.

  Callahan shook his head. “Even if he is selling the bids, which we have yet to prove, he’s not the type to vandalize anything.”

  “I’ve wrestled with that too,” Logan said. “The vandalism may be coming from a different source.” He sat back and watched disbelief, then anger, slash across Dan’s face.

  “You mean there may be two people out to get me?”

  “It’s possible,” Logan said. “Maybe someone you fired has it in for you. I’m still sorting through the lists of fired employees and doing a background check on each one. The vandalism worries me more than the thefts. That fire early this morning means our friend has taken things up a notch.”

  “Find the son-of-a-bitch who set that fire,” Callahan said, standing. “And I won’t make a move on Bryce without proof.”

  “We’ll get the proof,” Logan said. “I’ve got some ideas we can go over.”

  “I’ve already restricted access to the bids to just a few key employees.” Dan looked at his watch. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. Let’s get together tomorrow.”

  Logan stood and gathered his papers into the envelope. “If I can get away. I don’t want Doriana suspicious. It was a close call this morning at the fire site. I think I put her off, but she’s a smart lady.” Guilt formed a ball in his stomach. He hated lying to Doriana. But the assignment demanded secrecy.

  “My daughter is smart,” Dan said. He threw Logan a wry look. “She’s lots smarter than Franco.”

  “She works hard for you,” Logan said.

  “I know she does,” Callahan said. “She works too hard. The job and her son. They’re her life.”

  What about this Josh guy? Logan wanted to ask. Did Doriana have a secret life no one could guess? How deeply did she love this guy? Doriana’s love life wasn’t his concern. But he couldn’t stop the twin fists of hurt and jealously that punched him in the gut at the thought of her with another man.

  ~~~~

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Doriana pulled off her boots and flopped onto the bed. She’d eaten too much, but it was Thanksgiving.

  Mom and Nonna had served up their usual outstanding fare, Italian dishes—eggplant parmesan, ravioli and wedding soup—along with turkey and all the trimmings. And enough pies and pastries, or dolce, as Nonna called dessert, to feed a small country. She had enough food in her to last until the New Year.

  Doriana grabbed the remote and turned on the TV to a mindless sitcom, then spiked up the volume. With Josh spending the night at her parents the house was way too quiet.

  Thank God for her parents even though they meddled at times. They understood that she and Josh needed space from each other. She couldn’t tell her parents of her nagging fear that Josh was involved with the fire at the construction site. He still refused to tell her where he’d been until one o’clock this past Monday morning.

  She picked up the remote again and flipped through the stations, barely noticing what flashed on the screen. Josh was more uncontrollable every day. Was he becoming like Logan as a teen, wild and rebellious?

  Doriana turned off the TV and dropped the remote on the bed. Thinking about Logan teased her with questions. Why was he at the fire site with her dad? That story about his having fire experience didn’t ring true. Logan and her father were hiding something.

  Thankfully the workweek had been short with the two-day holiday. She needed time away from Logan and all the longings, confusion and guilt he stirred in her.

  She trusted Anita to keep her secret. But she feared her own guilt would force the truth. Logan hadn’t cared enough to stay around the first time. Would knowing about Josh keep him here now? Doriana got up from the bed and ran impatient fingers through her hair. She was obsessing way too much about Logan.

  She walked toward the bathroom, pulling her sweater over her head. Too bad she couldn’t peel away her problems as smoothly. The ring of the phone stopped her. Slipping her sweater back on, she hurried to answer it. Josh calling to say goodnight? She doubted it.

  “Hello,” she said into the receiver.

  “Hello, sexy.” At the crude, unfamiliar voice, she tightened her grip on the phone. Chills chased up her spine.

  “Who is this?” Her voice shook.

  “Oh, you don’t know me. Not yet. But I sure know you. You’re sexy as hell, especially in those tight black pants.”

  Doriana slammed down the phone. Her insides shook and she ran trembling hands along the sides of her black pants. Had her caller guessed at what she wore, or was he watching? She gulped air.

  The phone rang again and she let out a small cry. Balling her hands, she dug her nails into her palms. She would not pick up the phone. The answering machine clicked on.

  “You can’t get away from me that easy.” The harsh voice, laced with menace, froze her. “I know you’re alone.” Almost seeing his leer, she shoved a shaking fist to her mouth.

  “Let me in, bitch. I’ll show a hot number like you what a real man is. Not like that pretty boy you’ve been hanging around with.”

  His loud cackle shot knife points of fear through her and she stifled a scream. The phone clicked off. The silence of the empty house closed around her. She glanced toward the windows. Could he see her through the sheer curtains?

  Trembling, she sank onto the bed and clutched the chenille spread as if she could hide herself in its folds. She couldn’t stay here, but she dared not leave. He could be waiting outside. She hadn’t set the security alarm.

  She reached for the phone. Her dad would know what to do.

  With her hand on the receiver, she froze. Her dad had looked tired all day. He’d been under a lot of stress. Remembering his doctor’s advice to take it easy, she knew she couldn’t put more strain on him.

  The cops? Would the police even get involved? And if they did, they’d come eventually and look around, then leave. And she’d still be alone.

  Logan. He would help. She had his cell phone number somewhere. She ran to her purse where it lay on the floor and rummaged through it with nervous fingers until she found the slip of paper with Logan’s number.

  Taking calming breaths she punched in the number. Please answer, Logan, please.

  Her spirits sank with each unanswered ring. Was he with Candi? Or another woman? Hurt mingled with her fear.

  “Tanner here.”

  Relief spiked through her at the sound of his voice.

  “Logan?” A sob escaped her.

  “Doriana? What’s wrong?”

  The concern in h
is voice made tears spill out. Despite the tension between them, Logan would protect her.

  “Someone called,” she said, swiping at tears. “Outside. He knows where I live. He could hurt my son.” Anger, swift and hard, tightened her stomach. “The bastard will not touch my son.”

  “No one will hurt you or your son, Doriana. Did you recognize his voice?”

  “No, but he’s watching me. The son-of-a bitch. He said awful things. How dare he do this to me?”

  “I’m coming right over. Give me your address.”

  Doriana chewed her lip as she paced her living room, waiting for Logan. The wool of her Oriental carpets rubbed against her bare feet. She welcomed the slight pain as a respite from the numbing fear that clenched her stomach.

  She’d set the alarm. If anyone activated it, the security company would be alerted. But by the time help arrived it might be too late. “Stop it,” she whispered to the empty room. The heater kicked on and she started. She had to calm down. Logan would be here soon.

  She looked at the brass clock over the mantle. How far away was Logan? She had no idea where he lived.

  Her gaze slid to the side table next to the sofa. Pictures of a smiling teen-age Josh adorned the teak surface. She ran around the room, gathering up all the pictures of Josh, except for a few baby ones. She threw them into the desk drawer and pushed it shut.

  The doorbell rang. She jumped.

  She walked cautiously toward the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Logan.”

  She disarmed her security system, threw open the door, and pulled Logan in, locking the door behind him. “Logan.” She flung herself into his arms.

  He gathered her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

  He kissed the top of her head and held her against his strong chest. Her trembling started anew and he pulled her closer.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  The steady beat of Logan’s heart vibrated through her body, soothing her.

  “Phone call. Horrible and vile.” Her voice sounded muffled against his chest.

  “And you have no clue who he is?” The dead calm of Logan’s voice sent a chill through her.

  Shaking her head, she pulled away and looked up at him. “He knows what I’m wearing.”

  Logan stiffened. “The bastard. Don’t worry, Dorie, he won’t hurt you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  The glittering anger in Logan’s eyes left no doubt. She shuddered. “I know you will, but what can we do?”

  “I don’t think the police will get involved unless there’s a definite threat,” Logan said. “Maybe the phone company can put on a tracer. It’s too late to call them tonight.”

  “I don’t want to be alone, Logan.”

  He pulled her to him again. “I won’t leave you. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  Like you stayed all those years ago when I needed you? The thought shot through her mind. She forced it away.

  “He’s on the machine,” she said, pointing to the phone with a shaking finger. “The scum who called.”

  “I’ll listen in a minute,” Logan said, “but first I want to check every door and window. Where’s your son? Is he okay?”

  “My son?” She pulled away. “He’s at my parents.”

  “Good.”

  A pinprick of guilt stabbed her. She hadn’t lied. Josh was at her parents.

  “Where’s your basement?” Logan asked.

  “Off the kitchen.”

  “Stay here. I’ll go through each room.”

  She nodded.

  “Everything’s locked tight,” Logan said, entering the living room minutes later after checking the house.

  Too nervous to sit, Doriana stood next to the couch, hugging herself against her fear.

  Logan’s gaze pierced hers. “No one will hurt you while I’m here.”

  “Please stay with me until the morning.”

  He was at her side in two steps. Reaching out, he rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I won’t leave you.”

  His eyes told the truth of his words. He wouldn’t abandon her, not tonight. Bittersweet sorrow tightened her chest. A long time ago he’d pledged his heart forever. He hadn’t kept that promise. She released a sigh, determined to forget about the past for now.

  He studied her. She read concern in his eyes, but something else, something smoky and dark. The heat of arousal pulled low in her belly and she dropped her gaze. She couldn’t allow hope into her heart. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

  “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll listen to the phone message then settle down on the couch. You’re safe now.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” she said. “Would you like some tea?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen while you replay the message,” she said, hurrying out of the room. “I can’t hear that vileness again.”

  * * * *

  Logan hit the play button on the answering machine. The evil spewing from the mouth of the scum who threatened Doriana made white-hot anger boil through him.

  Who was ‘pretty boy?’ Josh? Was the slime ball on the phone stalking Doriana? Rage pounded through Logan. He’d tear the city apart until he caught the jerk.

  He found Doriana leaning against the kitchen sink, her head down and her body rigid. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, liking the way her head fit under his chin. She slowly relaxed and he held her closer.

  He inhaled her cologne, expensive and spicy, not the usual rose scent she wore to work. Had she been with the Josh guy earlier and worn the cologne for him? He closed his eyes against the sudden pain that gnawed at his insides. That didn’t matter. She’d called him, not Josh. She needed him and he wouldn’t let her down.

  She felt so good, as if she belonged in his arms. For a few minutes he allowed himself to imagine that she was his again. He straightened. He had a job to do. He would protect her and keep her safe.

  “I listened,” he said, still holding her against him. “Sick bastard. He blocked his number from your phone’s ID system. Maybe the phone company can find the number. We’ll call them in the morning. Stupid jerk recorded his voice. Maybe the phone company can use that.”

  He pulled her closer. “No one will hurt you, Doriana. I promise.”

  “I know.”

  She turned in his arms to look up at him. The trust in her eyes threatened his control. It would be so easy to give in to his baser instincts, to kiss her full lips until she begged for more.

  “How about that tea,” he said.

  She smiled through the tears that glistened in her eyes. “And some pumpkin pie.”

  “With whipped cream?” he asked, smiling.

  “I’ve got whipped cream.”

  “Then we’re all set.”

  * * * *

  Doriana, sitting across from Logan at the center counter in her kitchen, smiled at his unabashed enjoyment of the dessert. Cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger tea laced with honey melded with the soft sounds of jazz playing on the radio. She could almost forget the ugliness of the past few hours. Could almost tell Logan about Josh.

  “My mom made the pie,” she blurted. She couldn’t tell him about Josh.

  “Can you cook like this?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. I didn’t inherit the cooking gene from Nonna or Mom.”

  “You’ve got whipped cream, though.” His crooked grin warmed her more than the mug of tea she cradled.

  “Logan, thanks for coming over. Things are strained between us sometimes, but you were there for me when I needed you.”

  He gave her that lopsided grin again. Her pulse did a little dance.

  “All in a day’s work,” he said. “You are my boss after all.”

  She laughed. Logan could always make her laugh. “I think this goes above and beyond your job description.”

  His intense look made her glance quickly away to stare at the clock on the wall behind him. Was it real
ly only midnight?

  “Doriana?”

  She turned to him.

  “Did you love him?” he asked.

  Her chest constricted. “Love who?”

  “Your son’s father.”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to know. But it’s none of my business.”

  “I loved him very much,” she said.

  “What happened to him?”

  Tell him. Tell him, her conscience urged. “He left. Logan, I...”

  “He’s a fool,” Logan said.

  “What?”

  “The guy who left you.” His jaw clenched.

  “He’s no fool,” she said.

  “How can you defend him after what he’s done?” Anger sparked from Logan’s eyes.

  Doriana half rose in her seat. “You don’t know...”

  “Forget it,” Logan said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She blew her breath out and settled back. “Okay.” Guilt curled around her heart. She should tell him. She couldn’t. She had to think about it.

  “Great pie,” he said, smiling.

  Despite his smile, anger lingered in his eyes. “Nothing like home-baked pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving,” he said, pushing his empty plate away.

  She studied him. Thick lashes framed golden-green eyes. She’d always loved Logan’s eyes.

  “If you keep staring at me like that, I may forget I’m a nice guy.”

  Her face heated. She cut a chunk of pie and put it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, wishing she could digest her wayward thoughts away.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  She swallowed her pie. “Where did you have Thanksgiving dinner?” The question slipped out.

  “I ate with the guys at the shelter.”

  She choked and took a quick sip of tea.

  “You live in a shelter?”

  He smiled. “No, I’m not that hard on my luck. I helped serve meals at the shelter. I do it every Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s what people without families do.” Sadness flicked in his eyes for a few seconds.