by JoAnn Ross
“You dream about that night?” God knows it had haunted him ever since. Now he had even more to add to the repertoire of transgressions.
“My therapist said it was my subconscious defense against what had really happened with Drago. And I knew he’d been in my room. Not just because Lucia said so but because he’d left his jacket there. A Harley jacket. He wore it a lot. Was wearing it at the boathouse when you—” she broke off, her throat working.
He’d never been big on therapy. There were times it was required through his work, and he’d always hated it. “It was a memory of us, Annie. Not a dream. Drago hadn’t assaulted you before the wedding. You were never in your bedroom with him. He damn sure didn’t do it afterward when he was locked up in jail.”
She inhaled sharply. “Riley. Dear God.” Her skin went white and she sank onto the couch as if her legs had suddenly given out.
“Yeah.” He knew exactly what her mind had finally wrapped itself around. “Riley is my daughter.”
There was an odd buzzing inside Annie’s head. Riley was Logan’s daughter. Not Drago’s. She blinked, trying to focus on that fact, but it kept spinning away from her. What was wrong with her? She should have seen the resemblance. She should have remembered that night!
“Don’t faint.” Logan sat beside her, nudging her head forward.
“I don’t faint.” She grabbed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled it away. “You knew.” It was like a tumbler falling into place on a lock. “You’d already figured out that you were her father.” She shoved away from him. She wanted to scream but couldn’t. “God. The secrets just keep rolling out, don’t they? And when were you planning to say something? Or were you just going to go on your merry way as if none of it mattered?”
He looked weary. “What would you have had me say, Annie?”
“I don’t know. Something! Anything. These past few days, all these years, you’ve known.”
“What I knew all these years was that I’d slept with you when I never should even have touched you. I should have stopped, but I didn’t. I don’t even have the excuse that I couldn’t stop. And you passed out afterward. I carried you back to your bed the next morning and left.”
“I remember I half expected you to show up at the police station with Will. He said you’d already left because of some job thing.”
“Yeah. As for the past few days, I started to think maybe you’d been assaulted.”
“Seeing as how I’m such a model for perfect mental health.”
“I recognize the signs. And there’s nothing wrong with your mental health.”
“Except I got some kid from Denver confused with Drago!”
“Stress. Riley running away, the storm. Me. It was a matter of time before the pot boiled. It doesn’t mean you’re crazy or that you’re a danger to anyone.”
Annie paced across the room. Stared out the glass door. The surf had risen again. Clouds scuttled across the sky, destroying the blank expanse of blue. “We have to tell her.”
“She’s not going to want to know that I’m her father.”
Her fingers curled against her palms. “Why not? Because you don’t want to be tied down by being one?” Her lips twisted over the words as she retraced her steps to him. “Riley has a father. A man who—regardless of what Riley currently thinks—is devoted to her. You can’t tell me that she has a right to know who I am, and honestly think she doesn’t have a right to know about you! We can’t just sit here and pick and choose what pieces of the truth to reveal, Logan. For God’s sake! Look at what thinking that Drago was her father did to me.”
“Drago’s a two-bit hood who’s incapable of making a life outside of prison. What he is is never gonna touch Riley’s life.”
“Why? You think Lucia isn’t as capable of contacting him about his supposed daughter as she was about telling Riley about me?”
“Lucia never said a word before. What would she gain by doing so now?”
Annie wanted to tear out her hair. “I don’t know! I don’t know what possessed her to do what she did now!” She’d probably never know. “I gave up trying to understand my parents a long time ago. But I won’t let her hurt Riley again, Logan, and the only way to prevent that is if she knows the truth. That you were the one I was with that night.”
“No.” His voice was flat.
She stared at him, wishing she understood him. Wishing she had a single clue about what caused the shadows deep in his eyes. “What is it you’re afraid of, Logan? That Riley will blame you or something?”
“Leave it alone, Annie.”
She crouched in front of him, her hands on his knees. She didn’t think it possible for her heart to ache more than it had, yet it did. “I can’t. Not anymore. I left things alone way too long, because I thought I was doing the right thing and I was wrong. Wrong.”
He deliberately set aside her hands and pushed to his feet, moving away from her. “There are things you don’t know.”
“Only because you won’t say.” She slid up on the seat, hugging her arms around herself. “You’re not a consultant.”
“No.”
Her lips pressed together. “Hmm. I’ve never met a spy before.” The paltry attempt at humor fell short. “You said you were one that very first day. Guess we should have believed you.”
“Not really. Spying’s not my specialty.”
“What is?” She lifted her hands. “Come on, Logan. Give me a reason, one good enough to make me believe that you’re right. That Riley is better off not knowing about you. Because, frankly, unless you’re some cutthroat murderer, I can’t see—”
“I am.”
Her hands lowered. “What?”
Logan had to make her understand. “I wanted to be a lawyer,” he said. “And scholarships and grants only went so far.”
She frowned, looking confused. “I know. But what—”
“Hear me out.”
She subsided.
“I was approached by an organization. They would finance the rest of my schooling, pay off the loans I’d already taken out. In exchange, I’d work for them for a set period of time once I passed the bar exam.”
“That doesn’t sound so unusual. Don’t some law firms make similar arrangements with promising students?”
“What was unusual was what the organization did.”
She looked uneasy. “Organization. Like...the mob?”
He laughed shortly. “No. Hollins-Winword isn’t the mob. They’re...peacekeepers mostly. On an international scale.”
Her shoulders had relaxed only a little. Now, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. It’s better that you don’t.” Cole preferred it that way. Helping to keep justice in a world where justice was increasingly rare was more easily accomplished on a need-to-know basis.
“Do you have a, um, a specialty?”
“Cleanup,” he said. There was only one situation that he’d left in a true mess. And she was across the room from him.
He knew people who’d broken under less trauma than she’d endured in the past few days.
But not Annie.
“Somehow, I don’t think you mean cleaning with a dustpan and broom.”
“No.”
“Okay, fine. But that still doesn’t mean that Riley can’t know about you.”
He’d thought he was making headway with her. “Dammit, Annie, no.”
She pushed to her feet. “Riley’s not going to want a job résumé from you, Logan. You’re a decent man—”
“I’m a sharpshooter,” he said. “They send me in when a situation can’t be rectified by any other means.”
Her eyes narrowed. He could see her brain mulling that over. What it implied.
�
�For...personal gain? Because you love it?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Your expression says otherwise.”
“Well, you should believe it. I’m paid well,” he said flatly. And for a lot of years the life had been just what he wanted. Until one day he’d realized it was likely to be the only life he was suited for. If he’d come to hate the life he led, how could anyone else not feel the same?
“Just because you hate yourself for something doesn’t mean that Riley will. If you don’t like what you do, then you’re the one with the power to change it.”
There were very few individuals who successfully left H-W behind. “Pretty words.”
She watched him for a long moment. “Maybe. True words, at least. They were your words, Logan. That night at the boathouse. It took me a while, but I finally listened to them. I followed them. So why can’t you?”
She moved away from him and picked up the sweater and umbrella sitting on the counter. “I’m going to the shop.”
“The shop’s not going anywhere, Annie. It’s been a hard day for—”
“For me? For you? For Riley?” Her gaze flickered for a moment. “Sometimes work is all we have. That message Sam passed on for you is proof of that, isn’t it? But as it happens, I’m going to the shop to see my friend. Your sister.” Her jaw tightened. “Riley’s aunt.”
She went out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
Logan just stood there. The paper in his pocket wasn’t even noticeable, but just then, it seemed to weigh a ton.
Chapter 16
Four days without power.
Annie sighed and ran her dust rag over the display shelves. Habit had her glancing toward the big glass window at the front of the shop, but her gaze encountered the muted tone of the plywood instead.
She sighed again and turned away. She’d propped open the front door to let in some light and the bell over it jingled softly in the breeze. It was a softly peaceful, gently cheerful sound in utter contrast to her state of mind as well as the dreary, rainy day.
“Here.” Riley came out from the workroom and set a mug on the countertop. Steam billowed up from the mug’s contents. “Hot chocolate.”
Annie smiled faintly and picked up the mug. A few small marshmallows floated on the rich, chocolaty drink. “You and Sara obviously got a fire to burn out back, despite the rain.”
“I’m handy that way.” Sara sailed into the room, carrying her own mug. She dashed raindrops off her hair. “Comes from dating Eagle Scouts. Learned how to build fires under all sorts of conditions.” She winked at Riley, who rolled her eyes. Good-naturedly, though. The two had an obvious ease with each other.
Annie buried yet another sigh, this time in the depths of hot chocolate. She hadn’t seen Logan since the previous day. Hadn’t seen him, heard from him or heard of him. Considering the size of the island, it could only mean that he was off somewhere avoiding everyone, including her.
And Riley.
She watched the teen and Sara a moment longer. But all too quickly she felt a warning prickle behind her eyes. “I’m going to take this stuff down to Maisy’s.” She set down the mug and picked up the box of candles she’d packed earlier.
“We’ll help you.”
Annie waved off her partner’s offer. “No point in all of us getting rained on. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She wasn’t going to bust into tears in front of them. But then she saw Riley’s face. “Unless...you really want to come.”
The frown cleared and Riley nodded. “I’ll get an umbrella.” She hurried into the workroom.
Annie swallowed. Then Sara touched her arm. “Hang in there,” she said softly. Encouragingly.
Sara didn’t know the half of it.
But the threat of tears passed, moved hurriedly along by a surge of anger. At Logan, for making it impossible for Annie to let Sara know the full truth. At the sender of that message for Logan. Two days. Now one. She didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that the message meant he’d soon be leaving.
Knowing in her head that he would certainly leave the island and knowing it for a fact, however, were proving to be two very different things.
Riley returned, and the three set off. Sara was taller, and she held the oversized umbrella. Annie and Riley carried the carton between them.
In minutes, they’d made it down to Maisy’s Place where Annie left her protest unvoiced when Riley went in search of Kenny while Annie and Sara took the candles inside to Maisy’s office.
The sight of Logan sitting in front of Maisy’s desk, his long legs stretched across the minuscule office, was a surprise. But the sight of Hugo Drake leaning over his son with a suture needle in hand was a complete shock.
Annie stood stock-still in the hallway, staring.
Sara took the sight in stride more easily. She slipped around her father’s bulk to peer at the wound Hugo was stitching together. “Good grief, Logan. Do you have a death wish or something? Another few inches and that slice would be on your neck instead of your jaw.”
A gasp slid past Annie’s lips. Logan’s head turned and he looked at her.
“Dammit, son, hold still. You’re gonna have a butt-ugly scar as it is.”
Annie felt her vision narrowing.
“How’d you cut yourself like that?” Sara’s voice seemed to come from inside a tunnel.
“Doing something stupid, no doubt,” Hugo said.
“Maisy, I told you not to call Hugo,” Logan said.
“Rather leave your jawbone hanging out for the birds to peck at than have me touch you?” Hugo harrumphed, and kept working. “Should have gone to my office, but no. Stubborn cuss.”
“Like someone else we know and love,” Maisy said, her gaze pointedly on Hugo. “Stop grumbling and fix him.”
“All I wanted was a bandage.”
“I told you not to move. That includes talking,” Hugo snapped. “Or do you want to lose even more blood?”
“I still want to know what happened,” Sara complained. “You look like you’ve been in a knife fight, for heaven’s sake! Do I need to get the sheriff?”
Annie silently crumpled.
Logan jerked, pushing past his father, who cursed colorfully, and caught Annie a spare moment before her head hit the hardwood floor.
“Good Lord.” Maisy swept by him, pushing at him. “Let your father finish.”
“But—”
She glared at him, but her touch was gentle as she sat down beside Annie, chafing her hands. “Get.”
Sara crouched down, too. Her eyes were sharp as she looked from him to Annie and back again. “You’re dripping blood on her.” She handed him one of the gauze pads Hugo had brought.
He pressed it to his jaw and carefully thumbed away a drop from Annie’s arm.
“She’s exhausted.”
“And you’re not?” Sara raised her eyebrows. “Let Dad finish, Logan.”
Annie was already stirring. Her lashes slowly lifted and she stared up at him. “What...oh, God.” Color suffused her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. Lie still.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
Her fingers lifted toward him. “What happened?”
“A piece of wire snapped. Caught me wrong.”
“And I’m gonna pump you full of antibiotics because of it,” Hugo said above them. “Now get up here.”
“Let him finish.” Annie’s urging was soft. “Please?”
He exhaled roughly. Then resumed his seat inside the doorway of Maisy’s office. Hugo snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and leaned over him again. “If she asks you to stay on the island in that sweet voice, you going to agree to that, too?” His voice was soft, meant only for Logan.
Logan closed his eyes. “Stitch and shut up.” His voice was as low as Hugo’
s.
“You’re a cold bastard.”
“Take after my father.”
A strong hand closed over Logan’s shoulder. He looked up into Maisy’s face. Her hair practically vibrated with the anger that lit her eyes. “I ought to lock the two of you alone in here until you can be civil with each other.”
“Our cold dead bodies would be discovered eventually,” Hugo’s voice was dry.
Maisy threw up her hands. She made no attempt at keeping her voice quiet this time. “Idiots. Both of you. You,” she pointed at Hugo, “never told your children that their mother was clinically depressed and made your life hell when she wouldn’t take her medication. And you,” she pointed at Logan, “never saw that your father was suffering more than any of you. Your mother didn’t commit suicide because of him, she did it despite him. And you’re both a pair of idiots.”
“He gave her plenty cause to be depressed.” Logan looked at his father.
Maisy stomped her foot. Hard. “Stop. Right now. I won’t have it.”
Hugo was staring at Maisy as if he’d never seen her before. “Woman, you had no right to tell them about Madeline.”
Maisy’s eyebrows shot up into her corkscrew bangs. “Oh, really. Really? Sara practically grew up with no mother at all. You think she didn’t have a right to know why?”
Her gaze took in both Logan and Sara—who looked shocked as she sat next to Annie on the floor. “Madeline was ill years before either one of you children came along. Just because Madeline was too proud to admit it publicly didn’t mean that people didn’t know, Hugo. But she was a Turn and Lord knows Turns always watch out for each other, even if that meant covering for her illness. What purpose does it serve to honor her secret after all these years, particularly when it only hurts the people she left behind?”
Hugo rapidly tied off another stitch. The last one. Then he jabbed a hypodermic syringe into Logan’s arm, seeming to relish the task as he gave the antibiotic, before he tossed everything back into his case, peeled off the gloves and tossed them in also. He picked the bag off the desk, stuck his cigar between his teeth and towered over Maisy. “You are an annoying old woman.”