by Avery Duncan
A shrewd light entered his eyes, and he told to Glenda to leave the bathroom and go back to whatever she had been doing. Wtih worried glances, she did as she was told, but not before asking her one more time if she would consider going to the hospital.
“Claire?” he asked gently, like he was talking to a child.
Her eyes again locked on the white bag. “I need that,” she panted, feeling a coldness seep through her body. The panic attacks she’d felt whenever she didn’t take her meds always ended like this. The fear, how cold it turned. Even her hands shook.
“Do you?” he asked, still holding it out of her reach.
Why was he doing this? Did he want her to die? She couldn’t stand it any longer -- desperate, she lunged for the bag but cried out. He threw the bag to the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against his large, warm body.
“Give that to me,” she demanded, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her fingers turned numb. She grabbed his shirt, nearly clawing him with her nails. She didn’t care though.
“Claire,” he said calmly, wrapping his arms even tighter around her. He held her to him, keeping her still as she began to fight him, hit him, sobbing all the while. No matter what she did, though, he never let her go. He even went as far to wipe the tears from her face and whisper calming words.
“Why,” she hiccupped, “didn’t you give them to me...”
“It would have been a waste,” he calmly explained, using his thumb to gently clean her cheeks. “Taking one now wouldn’t have made any difference.”
The less she shuddered, the more she relaxed, and the more clear headed she got. It took minutes, but it felt like hours. His arms were thick and warm around her, and he sat with his back against the bathtub, her small body curled into a tight ball on his. He gave no indication that he was uncomfortable, just held her and talked to her in soothing tones.
Chapter 8
“Why the bags?” Logan asked, sitting casually on her bed as she cleaned herself up in the bathroom.
The door was open, but her reply wasn’t loud enough to hear. That, or she hadn’t replied.
Claire came out a second later with a suitcase in her hand. Logan stared at her. “Well?”
“I need to leave,” she said, not looking him in the eye as she set the suitcases by the door to the bedroom.
He was silent.
“Why.”
“I just need...”
“Claire. Tell me why.”
“It’s time...”
“Tell me the actual reason, damnit,” he snapped, fisting his hands. She met his eyes for a second, fear in their blue depths.
After a moment of silence, she said, as quietly as if she hadn’t spoken at all, “I’m really not...wanted here. It’s time for me to go, anyways. I’ve stayed here too long.”
Logan growled low in his throat, sensing that there was something a lot more complicated than what she was telling him.
“What do you mean, you’ve stayed too long?” He got to his feet slowly, feeling a possessiveness he’d never felt before.
“I just have,” she said evasively, moving out of his way. Claire backed into the wall, staring up at him with guarded blue eyes. He felt his reserve close to snapping.
“Is it because of me? Madison?” He stalked closer to her, unable to hide the growl in his voice. The worry at seeing her panic attack, the anger that she was going to leave the ranch...leave him...all came out and there was no way he could stop it.
She shook her head, and her blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Up close, he was struck by how beautiful she was. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and seeing her now... the soft sprinkle of freckles, long, golden hair, wide blue eyes, so innocent yet scared... Something overcame him.
“Then what,” he demanded roughly, cornering her into the wall opposite of the bed.
“I can’t...stay here. I’ll put you in danger, and --”
He froze.
“Danger?”
She froze as well.
Claire, with a new look in her eyes, slipped under his arm and moved past him. “I’m leaving. If I have to walk to town, I will. But I’m...I’m leaving,” she said chokingly, not looking at him again. She wrapped her hand around the handle of her suitcase and grabbed her jacket, which he hadn’t known she’d even had.
His chest pumped, filled with shock and apprehension. “Claire.”
She didn’t listen to him, instead leaving the room with a stride, carrying her suitcase.
Logan was still for a second, not believing this was happening. And then, with a burst of energy, he went after her. “Damnit, Claire! Just hold on for a second -- what do you mean, you’re putting us in danger? Are you a runaway?”
He grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
“Logan --”
“Tell me what is happening with you --”
“Just let me --”
“I’m not going to let you leave! Not until you tell me what’s --”
“Logan!” she yelled, jerking out of his grasp. “Let the fuck go of me.”
He reacted as if he’d been slapped. Reeling back from her, he stared at her with wide eyes.
Claire closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She’d just cursed at him -- not even that, but screamed at him. He’d never thought she would raise her voice, let alone say a curse word.
Logan wasn’t about to let her leave.
That was for sure.
Resolved, he didn’t wait for her to calm down but grabbed her by the arm, yanked the suitcase from her, and then began to drag her to his office. It was on the same floor, thank lord, but it was on the opposite side of the hall. On his way there, he threw her suitcase into his room and slammed the door close behind him.
She struggled, cursing, kicking, hitting, pulling, but he didn’t let go of her.
He threw open the door to his office and then pushed her in, slamming the door close behind him. He didn’t mean to be rough, but he was pissed -- and worried about her.
“Sit do--”
She moved for the door, quick as a cat. He was there, though, blocking her way.
“Claire, sit your ass down now or I’m putting you over my knee,” he growled, getting in her space, goading her to try and get passed him.
“You wouldn’t,” she hissed, pulling her hand back like she was about to slap him.
He grabbed her wrist and jerked, pulling her body flush against his. “Right now, I’d do just about anything. So either you sit the fuck down, or your ass is mine. Capiche?”
Her chest heaved, causing her breasts to brush against his chest. He had her pulled so close against him that he could smell the strawberry shampoo she used, could smell the cool mint of her breath -- could even feel it against his hand as she glared up at him.
“Fine,” she snapped, yanking against his grip.
He let her go willingly, but didn’t move away from the door before she sat down, facing away from him.
Logan took only a second to collect himself, before moving in front of her and sitting on the edge of his desk, forcing her to look up at him to make eye contact. Her face was flushed, yet white besides her cheeks. Her eyes were snapping fire and on guard, fear in them. Her hands were in her lap tightly, and he didn’t think he could have plied them apart with a crowbar.
“What are you running from,” he demanded. His many years of marine training kicked in, and suddenly he was all about the information. Screw emotions -- this woman’s life was obviously on the line.
Or so she thought. Logan knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her
“No one,” she said evasively.
“You said you were putting us in danger. You also said that you had stayed here too long. Sorry, baby, but that’s a red flag that you’re a runner. So tell me, who are you running from.”
Claire was silent, unwilling to divulge anything.
“The law? Someone trying to kill you? Family? What,” he persisted, leaning forward to grab her chin, forcing her t
o look at him. He saw the anger, but what shocked him most was the sheen of tears that graced her eyes.
“From someone,” he hedged, searching her eyes. They flickered to the right, away from him, signaling that he was again correct.
“An ex?” he tried. Her lack of response was wearing his patience thin, but he wasn’t going to show her that. Not after losing it so badly in the hallway.
When he thought he would have to hedge again, she shook her head. So it wasn’t a boyfriend. Grateful for that at least, he sat in the adjoining chair that was next to her, confident that she wasn’t going to run from the room -- yet. If there was anything he knew about civilians, it was that they craved help -- no matter how much their mind might tell them otherwise. Claire was in trouble, and she wouldn’t have given in that little piece of information if she wasn’t somehow desperate for help.
He tried a more gentle attack. “Claire, you know I was in the marines.”
She nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but the more time wore on, the more her shoulders curled. And the more she caved.
“And you know I can get you better protection...”
She stiffened, then her body shuddered. She raised a hand to her face, trying to wipe at her eyes. “I just need to know who you’re running from, and then I can help you. You’d be safe here. Don’t you miss feeling safe?” he asked quietly, appealing to her sense of vulnerability. It had been a tactic that he’d used to many times with children who refused to leave cages he’d found them in, for fear of getting beat to death by their abuser.
Right now, it felt like he was doing the exact same thing but with Claire.
Her hands weren’t clenched so tight in her lap now. “I would be putting everyone else in danger though...”
“My men know how to take care of themselves. You don’t deal with roudy bulls without learning a couple of things,” he said lightly.
“I don’t know...” She worried her lip, rubbing her face with her hands. He took hold of her wrist, gently this time.
“Feel how stressed you are? Scared? I can take care of that,” he promised. “I just need to know who you’re running from.”
Claire swallowed. Her head fell back. The light from the ceiling reflected off of her damp cheeks, and then, with a weak voice, “I can’t just start in the middle.”
“Then explain from the beginning,” he coaxed, taking her hand and running his thumb over the soft skin.
She was silent, didn’t speak for so long that Logan would have thought she’d forgotten what to say. But then she said, “My dad is one of the Senators of Iowa. Their cutting chairs, and...and that means the Senators of that state have to go through a re-election, and one of them is getting cut and...” She paused, catching her rambling.
“Well, the other three chairs are a kick-in. No one wants to vote them out. But it’s between my dad and...”
“And Joey Smith,” he finished, having heard about it on the news. Not enough to remember anything more from it, he wasn’t even from Iowa but -- “Senator Campbell. His daughter died in a car accident...”
Claire swallowed thickly, looking pained. “That was me.”
He nodded, slowly understanding. “So I’m guessing that Smith is after you.”
Claire looked away from him. “He thinks that if he can kill me, then my father will be too devastated to continue the election and will drop out, making him default on the remaining chair.”
“But I thought you ‘died in a car accident’,” he pointed out.
“Daddy warned me that Joey might find out I’m not really dead. He wouldn’t do the dirty work by himself, though. The election is too important for him to leave Iowa for... He’d send someone after me.”
Logan nodded, knowing exactly what she was saying and that she was right. Bluntly, he would hire someone to kill Claire should they ever find out she was really alive.
He knew what his men were capable, what they had done together in the past, and he knew that something like this was no threat at all. He could have them out here in less than a day and Claire could stay with him -- it would be ten times easier to keep her safe than following her everywhere -- even though he was willing to do so.
“If I can promise your safety, will you stay here? Running won’t keep you safe. If they find out you’re alive, they can track you so quickly that you’d be dead the second they did. If you’re with me, though...” He grabbed her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. “I promise I can -- and will -- protect you.”
Chapter 9
Claire knew he was telling the truth.
She knew he would protect her.
Knew she trust him.
But something told her to leave anyways. If she stayed, she would only put him in danger. It didn’t matter that he could protect himself, it was the fact that she was going to be the reason he had to anyways.
Her chest constricted so tightly it was hard for her to breathe.
She swallowed, wiping at her tears again. Logan’s eyes were on her, staring into her. Feeling like a trapped animal, she stared right back at him. She let him see all of her vulnerability, all of her fears, all of her worries.
“It’s asking too much...”
His dark head shook. “It isn’t,” he promised, holding onto her hand still. His thumb was sending hot sensations up her arm.
Her thoughts and her emotions warred with her. She wanted to feel safe, but not as his expense. She didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to run anymore, but being with him.... If anything happened to anyone here because of her, he would hate her. And she’d already been through him hating her once -- she didn’t want to go through it again.
“How about this,” he started, making her look at him. There was an evil yet teasing light in his eye. “We’ll make a deal.”
She backed away from him -- well, as much as she could sitting in a chair. He didn’t let go of her hand when she pulled on it.
“I don’t...know...”
“It won’t be bad. You don’t have to sell your soul to me,” he chuckled, bringing her hand to his mouth and lightly brushing his lips over her knuckles.
“I want something from you. Have since I first saw you outside Drake’s Pharmacy.”
Claire had no clue what that could have been. “Money?” she asked, unsure. Her father had often warned her about guys pretending to like her because of the money and title she had. But she also knew that Logan didn’t have any use for more money.
“No,” he said sternly. “What I want from you is much more...permanent.”
“I have no clue what that could be,” she said, at a loss.
-----------------------------------------------
Logan knew what he was about to ask was ridiculous. Irrational. Maybe it could even be considered as taking advantage of her. But either way, it was a step closer to getting what he wanted and he had nothing to lose. He’d been with a bad wife before, but Claire was nothing like Christina.
She was beautiful, real, down-to-earth, she had depth and brains and she was so innocent she could have scared the devil away with a smile. He knew there was a big chance she would say no, that even if she did say yes she would resent him later, maybe even leave him.
But it was the best way to save her -- and have her for himself.
And, as he thought about the future, he didn’t think it would be so bad. She would stay with him at the ranch, no one in the town could say anything bad about her, and it was time that he started having heirs. He couldn’t imagine anyone else replacing Claire, and he knew this was a once in a lifetime chance.
Determined, Logan took her hand and brought her to her feet.
He got down on one knee.
“I might as do this semi-right,” he said lightly, before kissing her knuckles.
“Logan...what are you doing?” Her voice was full of fear. She even tried to tug her hand out of his, but he didn’t let her. Holding tightly, he smiled up at her.
; “Claire Campbell,” he started, making sure to use her real name. “Will you --”
“Oh, god,” she groaned, covering her face with her other hand.
“--marry me?”
Chapter 10
“Logan, you don’t know what you’re asking...”
He stayed on his knee, his hand holding tightly yet gently onto hers.
Claire stared down at her.
When she thought of being proposed to, she pictured someone she loved and someone that loved her. A ring. Flowers. Candle-lit dinner.
Not, she thought, a dirty cowboy kneeling in front of her in a total man-cave of an office, no ring in site, and not a single petal near him. And especially because of pressing circumstances. Shouldn’t you only propose to someone when you were in love? she thought desperately, staring into his eyes.
There was start determination there. She knew that even if she said no, he wouldn’t give her that option. It was right there in his eyes, clear as day for her to read. But what she didn’t understand was...everything.
“Yes I do. I know that I want to make you my wife, right now.”
“Right now, yes. But later... Logan, I can’t...”
He got to his feet, cupping her face with his rough hand. “Claire, I’m not giving you that choice.”
Her brows lowered. “I’m the one that got asked, shouldn’t I get a say?”
Logan’s head shook. “Nope. Not with me.”
“I’m not going to say ye --”
His lips brushed against hers, silencing her. Then, as fire danced along her lips like feathers, he whispered, “You will. Just wait.”
“My father...”
“Technically,” he said against her skin, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to his body, “you don’t have a father. You’re supposed to be dead. If he happens to find out about this later on, however, then...”
“Logan!” she gasped, partly because she was shocked at what he was doing to her and what he was saying.
“Yes?”
“You can’t...you can’t be serious. This is ridiculous,” she sputtered, pushing away from him.