by Lori Ryan
Diya nodded. “Get started on it.”
Yoshi shook his head, though. “I don’t understand how you’ll get Alonzo to go after her?”
Diya smiled. “I don’t even need to have him go after her. I just need him in the vicinity. The man is on the run with no money. I’ll simply reach out to him and let him know we have a mutual enemy and I want to pay to have her taken out. He’ll do it for the vengeance and the cash, I’m sure. Peter, reach out to him online but include the word “daughter” with the code words so he realizes it’s me and not someone trying to impersonate my father. Most likely, he knows my father was murdered and might not answer if he has reason to be suspicious.”
Peter nodded but didn’t look up from the keyboard as he typed. He seemed to be in the zone now that she’d let him loose.
Diya just hoped it worked. They needed to find a way to get to Samantha Page if she was going to get the revenge her family deserved.
Chapter Seventeen
Logan looked down at the caller ID and refused the call again. Ernie had been trying to reach him for the last two days. He knew Ernie wanted to help, but Logan was beyond help now. He needed to see that Sam safely got through whatever the hell was going on and then he had to take himself far away from her. Her and everyone else.
He hadn’t quite figured out where he would go, but he was leaning toward a cabin deep in the mountains somewhere, at this point. Some place where it was just him and a case of Jack Daniels. Somewhere isolated where he couldn’t do any more damage. Because now he knew he was a danger to everyone around him. He didn’t care that the ATF had let him go after they realized the men he’d killed were hired guns, wanted in several countries.
Logan knew the truth. The minute he’d heard the alarm and known Sam was in trouble, he hadn’t given any thought to taking those guys out without deadly force. He hadn’t entertained a thought in the world for securing them until the police arrived. He’d gone flat out to protect what was his, by any means necessary. The result had left three men dead. Sure, they weren’t good men by any stretch of the imagination, but that wasn’t what mattered.
Jack had hired a lawyer to handle things for him. Monique Cain had been waiting with Jack and Sam at Logan’s house when the ATF had released him. Apparently, when the Feds take you to an undisclosed location, they really mean undisclosed. Monique had been trying to pull strings and locate him when he’d pulled up.
Jack introduced the tougher-than-nails-looking woman in a no-nonsense suit. Logan had thanked her, but told her the Feds had decided not to pursue charges, given the firepower the men were handling, the all-out attack on Samantha, and the men’s identities as wanted mercenaries.
Monique had smiled just as politely and outlined the actions Eric Westbrook—a man with a political agenda a mile long, according to her—was taking. Sure enough, the man had called a press conference today saying he was “looking into” bringing charges against Logan. Apparently, the man planned to run for governor and he wanted to run on a campaign of states’ rights. When the FBI had released a man in New Hampshire recently, over objections from state law enforcement, the man had gone on to kill three women before being caught. Westbrook was playing on that tragedy to form the cornerstone of his campaign.
Monique was sure the man’s tactic would backfire, since he was now going after a veteran of the armed forces, but Logan didn’t care about any of that. They could do whatever they wanted to him. Just as long as he could keep Sam safe. That’s all he cared about now.
So Logan sat in his car two rows down from Samantha’s place in her town house community. It was as close as he was willing to put himself to her, but also as far away as he was willing to go. Despite that her family had been with her until this morning, and Chad and Zach were inside with her 24/7 right now, Logan needed eyes on her—or at least her house—himself. He watched as reporters stood outside, waiting to catch sight of her and hound her again.
The alert on his phone sounded, indicating Ernie had left him a message. Again.
Logan ignored it. Again.
What the hell?
Logan sat up and watched as the front door to Sam’s place opened and she came out, flanked on either side by Chad and Zach. The men scanned the area, as did Logan before letting his eyes fall back to Sam. She raised a hand and said something to the reporters before handing them each what appeared to be some papers. Then she turned and walked straight for him.
Oh, what the hell are you doing, Sam?
Logan wanted to start the car and drive away. He needed to keep his distance from Sam, but hell if he could actually bring himself to turn the key and go. Chad and Zach stayed with her step-for-step, keeping the reporters mostly in check as they called out questions to her. To Sam’s credit, she looked straight ahead and kept moving. Apparently, she’d made her statement and she was finished.
Logan gripped the steering wheel as she opened the passenger door and slipped inside. Chad and Zach stood on either side of the car, keeping the press away from the doors, but cameras went off outside the windows, and Logan felt he had no choice but to start the car and pull away.
“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He didn’t look at her and the words sounded strained, as though shoved through clenched teeth. He tried to loosen his jaw, to no avail. He was wired too tight right now. “What did you just give them?”
“Photos of my injuries and a statement about the attack,” she said so calmly he wanted to scream. She went on before he could respond. “I need you to come inside with me, Logan,” she said, looking back at her town house as he pulled out of the lot.
“That’s not gonna happen.” Logan glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that a few of the reporters were following. Others pulled out and went in the opposite direction, perhaps to act on whatever Sam had just given them.
“Why not?”
“I’m not coming in, Sam. Chad and Zach are perfectly capable of taking care of you. Although, I’m sure they’d prefer it if you didn’t run them all over town,” he said with a pointed look in the rearview mirror to where the two men were slipping in and out of traffic on the Merritt Parkway to get around the press and stay with Sam.
“I love Chad and Zach, and having them at the house helps, but I need you there.”
Logan glanced her way but brought his eyes back around to the road quickly.
“No, you don’t, Sam. I’m gonna circle back and you’re going to wait for Zach and Chad to get in place and then head back inside with them. Until we figure out who this is that’s coming after you, you’re going to stay inside with them.”
“Not going to happen, Logan.”
He struck the edge of the steering wheel with a hell of a lot more force than he intended to and probably put more bite in his words than he should. “Damn it, Sam! Stop fucking around. This isn’t a joke. Whoever sent those men, they mean business. Those guys weren’t carrying water guns and they sure as hell weren’t going to ask you nicely to come along with them.”
She flinched, but collected herself again quickly. “I’m not going back inside without you, Logan.”
There was a force behind her words. A strength he hadn’t expected, but that he respected the hell out of. It didn’t mean he’d let her convince him to stay. He wasn’t what she needed in her life. He wasn’t what any of them needed.
It had been an amazing thing for Jack to do. Giving him a job when he needed it. Getting him a lawyer. All of it had been more than he had a right to ask of anyone. But he couldn’t stay here now that he knew how dangerous he was. He’d settle this for Sam and then he needed to get the hell out of here.
“I can’t sleep, Logan,” she said quietly. So quietly, he had to stay completely still and focused to hear her next words. “I need you in there with me. I need to know you’re watching so I can sleep.”
Hell.
He didn’t say anything. What could he say? Or do, for that matter? She was wrong. That was clear. She was wrong if she thought being around
him was safe.
“Besides,” she said with a little more force, “I know who was behind the attack.”
“Excuse me?” Logan bit out as he gripped the wheel to keep the car from swerving. That one had taken him off guard.
She turned in her seat to face him more fully, drawing one leg up under her. “I know who it was who hired those men. If you come inside, if you stay with me, I’ll tell you, so you can end this.”
Damn.
Logan took a few deep breaths, and then turned the wheel to head back toward her town house.
“Chad and Zach stay with us.” He needed to know he’d have backup and, more importantly, two people who could keep him from going over the edge. Chad and Zach could do that.
“Fine,” she said, nodding.
Chapter Eighteen
Samantha watched as Logan, Chad, and Zach checked the house again after getting her past the reporters. The pictures and statement she’d given the reporters should have given them something to work on for a while, but a few of them had followed her and Logan. They tried to ask her more questions before the guys got her back in the house, but she didn’t have anything more to say.
After seeing Westbrook’s press conference earlier in the day, Samantha had made up her mind to speak up. The man had some nerve painting Logan as some crazed vigilante who was making the streets of New Haven unsafe. Logan had saved her. Of that, she had absolutely no doubt. Those men would have eventually killed her, but she’d seen the look in their eyes. They would have done a lot more to her first. Though she’d fought, kicking and screaming and lashing out as hard and as fast as she could, she was not even remotely a match for any of them. Let alone all three.
So, she had walked out to the press and handed them photos of her wounds, and of the handprint bruises that marked her neck. She had called her parents and siblings first and warned them her injuries were about to be made public. Her mother had seen the large half-moons carved into the curve of each breast with that sick bastard’s knife, but her father and siblings hadn’t. She had covered herself before they arrived at the hospital and they’d left the room while the doctor had stitched her up.
Her mother hadn’t left, though. She’d sat and held Samantha’s hand while Sam cried and the doctor worked silently on her injuries, adding deep dermal sutures, followed by subcuticular sutures that would hold the wound closed without the need for external sutures. Sam understood the mechanics of the process. She’d once been fascinated with watching surgical videos online. The deep dermal sutures reduced the tension of the pull at the edges of the wounds. The subcuticular sutures would hold the wound closed without external sutures or Dermabond being necessary. But, for once, knowing the technical details of what was being done hadn’t lessened the trauma for her.
Now, knowing everyone she worked with would see the knife wounds either online or in the newspaper, and know what had been done to her…. Well, that would suck. But seeing Logan crucified for something that wasn’t his fault wasn’t something she could stand by and watch. Tomorrow, she planned to return the call of the local newswoman who had contacted her. The woman had discovered Logan was a veteran and wanted to put out a piece about Westbrook’s attack on a veteran who had served his country. Samantha had a feeling Logan would hate it, but she’d talk to the woman if it meant he didn’t have to stand trial. Maybe if there was enough pressure, Westbrook would back off and let the matter drop.
Sam watched as Logan grabbed a pillow and throw from the couch and jerked his head toward the sliding glass doors in the living room.
“You guys got those?”
Chad nodded his head slowly. “Sure.”
Logan didn’t say another word. He walked down the stairs to the basement.
Sam looked at Chad and Zach and felt tears prick at the back of her eyes and that stupid telltale burning at the sides of her nose that always seemed to precede a good cry. She shut that down and raised her chin, though.
When she got downstairs, she found Logan had propped himself up at the back of the basement, leaning against one wall. He had the throw over his legs and the pillow behind his head. He stared across the room, through the short hall, at the door to her house. He hadn’t turned the lights on, and even though it was only six in the evening, very little light came in through the small window next to her front door. The basement room he sat in had no windows so he was almost engulfed in darkness.
Samantha flicked the switch for the lights and stared at him. She debated briefly the wisdom of telling him she wouldn’t be able to sleep without him upstairs with her, but every cell in his body was clearly screaming at her to go away. From the clenched fists to the tick in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Every muscle seemed to be tensed for battle.
Fine. She’d go away. But not before she’d gotten him some help. Because there was no way she was going to let him do this to himself. He was shutting down, closing them all out. She had watched him start the battle back to life during the last few weeks, and she wasn’t about to let him throw that aside now.
She stalked over to where he’d tossed his phone down next to him and she picked it up.
“Samantha,” he said, drawing it out with a note of warning. His voice held the fierceness of anger, but there was more buried underneath that. There was anguish. His eyes told her she was playing with fire. Well, screw it. She could handle a few burns. She’d handled worse in the last few days.
He didn’t stop her as she brought up his contacts and sent a text to Ernie.
It’s Samantha Page. Logan is at my house. Please come.
She typed in her address, hit send, and tossed the phone back down, walking out of the room without a word.
She heard him curse behind her, so presumably he’d read the text, but he didn’t follow her. She just hoped he didn’t tell Ernie not to come. Logan needed a lifeline right now and she’d get it for him.
Sam took the stairs two at a time and went to cook dinner. Cooking relaxed her, and Chad and Zach had been happy to wolf down huge quantities of food over the last two days. Maybe if she cooked up a storm and got a little something in her stomach, she could sleep for just a few hours. She laughed to herself, but there wasn’t any mirth in the gesture. Maybe she needed to talk to Ernie. Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw the man who’d held her down and cut her. She heard the sick laughter as he’d watched her struggle, listened to her cries, and saw her blood spill out of her breasts. She smelled him, tasted the fear in her mouth and the bile that raced up her throat. She felt the helplessness all over again, and all she wanted was to curl up and make the images, the memories, go away.
Yeah. Maybe she needed Ernie as much as Logan did.
*****
Logan could have texted Ernie and told him not to come, but he didn’t. He knew Sam and she wouldn’t give up, so he might as well appease her, for now. He’d let Ernie come, talk to him a bit, then they’d make sure Sam was safe and he’d move on. Out of her life.
He would go upstairs later and find out what she’d meant when she’d said she had figured out who was after her. Right now, he needed a minute to get his shit together. He needed to spackle his fucked up walls back together. That woman just kept knocking away at them and if he stayed up there with her, she’d have them down before he knew what had happened.
She’d looked so fragile, it scared the crap out of him. Sam wasn’t a fragile woman. She was tough as hell. She had her insecurities. Who didn’t? But, right now, she looked worn out at the seams. He wanted to reach out and pull her in tight, wrap her up in his arms and not let another soul near her until…well, until ever. And that scared the crap out of him. So, he shoved her away. She said she couldn’t sleep without him in the house? Fine, he’d be in the house. But, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, be with her.
Logan ran his thumb over the grip of his gun, letting the familiar feel of it soothe him. How messed up was he that his gun had a calming effect on him? His body tensed when a knock sounded on the fron
t door. He drew himself up, gun in hand at his side, coming out into the front hall and glancing up the staircase to see that Chad stood guard, watching his back.
“It’s Ernie,” Chad called down and Logan figured Chad had seen him approach through the kitchen window upstairs.
He still used caution when opening the door, checking behind Ernie to be sure no one else lingered. The reporters seemed to have given up, at least for the day.
Logan looked down to see a leashed dog by Ernie’s side. Some kind of lab mix, by the look of it. The yellow dog stared calmly back at Logan. Leave it to Ernie to have the world’s calmest dog.
“Here.” Ernie thrust the leash into Logan’s hand. “Hold him for me.”
Logan looked down at the leash and took a few steps back. The dog followed him. He supposed that made sense since he was holding its leash, but his steps had been more of an attempt to get away than an attempt to get the dog to follow him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like dogs. He did, actually. He just wasn’t at all interested in engaging with anything or anyone right now. And that included Ernie and his dog. Sam invited him over. She could hang out with him.
“Sam’s upstairs,” Logan said.
Ernie didn’t answer him. He called up to Chad. “Will you grab the bag from the back of my truck and bring it in. Parked outside, white Ford.”
Logan watched as Chad went out and lifted something from the back of Ernie’s truck. A heavy bag for boxing. What the hell was he up to now?
“What are you doing?” Logan asked as he stepped further back into the hallway.
Ernie stepped in and locked the door behind Chad, and then made a motioning movement with his head. “Move, that thing’s freaking heavy. You gonna make your buddy carry this shit around all night or get out of his way?”
Logan stepped aside, the dog coming with him, but he turned to glare at Ernie. Ernie ignored him and walked into the basement room Logan had intended to take over as his own while he needed to be here. By now, Sam and Zach had come down the stairs. Zach introduced Sam to Ernie, who greeted her like they were long-lost friends.