by J. M. Madden
Logan had signed his life over to the US Army the following week.
The thought of deploying overseas had been a slight worry, but not enough to stop him from joining. Less and less people had been killed on deployment, though they were still in a war, the recruiter had made sure to tell him.
The injury rates, though, were still substantial, which he’d found out the hard way. At the end of the 6th year, mere weeks from going home, he’d been in his third IED attack. The difference being that this time, everyone in the truck with him had died.
And it had been his fault. The recon trip had been acting upon one of his hunches.
Even now, seven months later, when his thoughts landed on that day, his stomach hollowed out and he felt like he was going to throw up. A lot of guys completely lost the day they were injured, but that hadn’t been his case. He remembered every single word, every single sight, every single smell, every single scream. He didn’t have the luxury of forgetting.
Reaching Into his bag on the desk, he retrieved a small bottle of whiskey and took a swallow. It burned going down, which was good. It meant he was still here, still feeling something.
When his phone buzzed on the nightstand, he almost didn’t bother to move from the chair. It probably wasn’t anyone he needed to speak to right that moment. Something urged him to move, though, and he grabbed the phone. Not a number he recognized.
“Hello?” he rasped.
“I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
It took a moment to recognize the husky voice. “Um, Mari, Marigold?”
The young woman with the startling green eyes and the curvy hips.
“Yup,” she laughed. “It’s me. Hey, I didn’t know if you had a ride to the dinner tonight or not.”
Logan frowned. “What dinner?”
“The big birthday dinner for the new branch in Columbus.”
“Um, no. I don’t have anything to do with that.”
She sighed on the other end of the line. “I know, but John and Shannon thought it would be good for you to be there. And I think Gunny Palmer had some more questions for you. There’s no sense in sitting in a hotel room alone when you could be hanging with other vets talking shit.”
Logan chuckled a little. That’s exactly what they did, talked shit. “I’m not even part of the company.”
“I know that,” she repeated patiently. “Are you dressed?”
He looked down at his boxers and t-shirt. “Kind of.”
“You have five minutes. I’m on my way up.”
“Wait, Mari...”
The dial tone rang in the silence of the room. Shit. Did he really want to go hang out with a bunch of people he didn’t even know? Fuck...
She didn’t give him time to take a shower, but by the time Marigold knocked on his door, Logan was mostly dressed and put together. “I don’t know why I’m even going to this...” his voice drifted away as he caught sight of her.
Marigold had made an impact on him earlier that day. The name was distinctive, and she had the look of the kind of woman he normally enjoyed. Now she stood on his doorstep and something about her made him shut up and stare. She was, quite simply, beautiful. He’d thought cute earlier. Not classically cute like a petite little waif type, but cute in an athletic way. She was kind of solid, like she’d spent years playing softball. Strong legs, broader hips, slightly muscular arms, all revealed by the tight stone-washed jeans she wore and the long sleeved, shimmery dark gray blouse. Wow, that really worked with her dark hair. She’d done something to her eyes to make them appear larger than they were, the lashes thick and dark. Her hair fell in a dark straight sheet down her back, and he wondered of it was as soft as it looked.
Logan blinked, then looked at her again. Her eyes were startling green, but there was a shard of gold in the center. Not hazel, but green and gold together. Or was she wearing contacts? Her glasses were gone, and her irises were a little fuzzy around the edges. Maybe they were enhancing the color? Even if they were, the color was stunning.
He blinked, realizing he’d been standing there not saying anything for way too long. “Sorry, you just took me by surprise. You look beautiful, Marigold.”
Pink touched her cheeks, then her dark brows dropped, and she blinked. “Thank you. I think. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.” He backed into the room. “Just give me a minute to finish up. I had settled down for the night already.”
She glanced at the slim silver watch on her wrist. “It’s, like, six o’clock. Are you eighty?”
Logan glared at her as he walked into the bathroom, trying not to limp too much. “No, I’m not fucking eighty, but I have had a long day today.”
She waited, leaning against the hotel door, as he finished brushing his teeth and tucking in his shirt. He’d pulled on a pair of khakis and a button-down, solid dark blue shirt. He’d brought a tie, but he didn’t think he’d wear it. Too stuffy. Using the wall for balance, he headed back to the open suitcase on the stand beside the TV. Unzipping one side, he drew out the brown leather loafers he had brought. They weren’t as comfortable as his boots and didn’t give him nearly the same support, but he could make do for a couple of hours. The brown suit jacket still had a few wrinkles from being in the bag, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He pulled it on and smoothed it down.
Logan was very aware of Marigold watching him get ready. He slid his forearms through the arm cuffs of the braces, settling them. Then he grabbed his wallet and hotel card from the dresser. He desperately wanted to snatch up his ball cap, but he’d already combed his hair, very carefully positioning some of the hair over his burns. As soon as he went outside the spring wind would blow it to hell, but he had to try. He very rarely went out without something on his head anymore.
He turned to stand in front of her. “Is this all right?”
Her gaze drifted over him. Was that appreciation he saw in her eyes?
“Yeah, you’re good to go. Do you have your phone?” Marigold asked, jerking his attention back to her.
Logan paused and felt his front hip pocket. He must’ve slipped it in when she’d knocked. “Got it.”
He followed her out the door, making sure it latched behind him. Then he walked down the hallway shoulder to shoulder with her to the elevator. Logan tried not to be self-conscious of the way he moved, but something had changed just now. She’d been pretty before, but now she was... relevant to him.
Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t here for any reason other than to find the Walter family. He didn’t have time for any personal entanglements. The awareness in his body apparently didn’t seem to agree.
The scent of orange wrapped around him.
Marigold knew she could have called the man a cab, but that hadn’t felt right. Logan deserved more than a generic ride from a potentially dangerous driver. Denver seemed to have more than its fair share. It had been an eye-opening experience the first time she’d driven Interstate 70 through downtown.
But it was more than that, too. John Palmer had never asked her to escort someone before, so that made her suspect that the guy was a little more important than the average joe for some reason. Before they left for the day, Palmer had asked her to make arrangements for Logan to get to the dinner. He had not specified that she was supposed to drive him. Marigold had taken that responsibility on herself, because she was curious. From what she’d heard, the guy didn’t have anyone really, and he was out here on a ghost hunt.
Marigold knew she was too soft-hearted, but there was no way she couldn’t feel for the lonely man. It was obvious he’d been through something devastating. The scars on his face had that pink, raw look, like they could still be incredibly painful. It made her want to reach for cream to soothe the hurt, but she knew the pain had to be beyond anything over-the-counter medicine would even touch.
Plus, he was younger than a lot of the guys at LNF. The original partners were in their late thirties or early forties. Duncan was at least in his late forties,
if not a little older. Logan seemed to be barely into his twenties. Or maybe that was just the way he appeared to her. His brilliant blue-green eyes, which reminded her of sea glass, seemed much older, like they’d seen the worst in the world and returned to tell the tale. And maybe he had.
There was just something about the guy that called to her. Maybe fate had put them on a collision course so that she could help him find his family or something. She didn’t know. What she did know was that the few minutes it had taken her to deliver him to a hotel hadn’t been enough.
When he opened the door of his room, looking a little rumpled and hazy-eyed, she felt bad, but not enough to leave. Then she’d found herself wondering if that was what he would look like after making love, his dark curls standing out from his head. That shocked her, because she’d literally only known him a few hours. The last guy she’d slept with hadn’t had it so easy. It had taken him weeks of dates and conversations to get into her bed, and as soon as they’d slept together she’d known it had been the wrong move.
So, why was this guy ringing alarm bells in her gut?
Her eyes lingered on him as he finished getting ready, and she imagined the reverse happening. Would he go through the same process to get undressed?
And then, as if she hadn’t been struggling enough trying to keep her thoughts off her face, he’d asked for her opinion on his outfit. Holy hell, that had been hard, trying to sound so unaffected by his presence. Even with the scars, he was a striking man, with his height and dark hair and light eyes, hell, his presence. She didn’t think he understood how much he affected her.
The pain she could see him struggle with made her heart hurt. He didn’t appear to need the crutches moving around the room. Or maybe he was just acting like he didn’t need the crutches for her sake. She certainly hoped he wasn’t putting on an act for her. Eventually, he’d fitted the braces to his arms, and they’d left the room, walking side by side down the corridor. She wished she could save him the pain she could see him struggling with.
Her car was in the turnaround of the hotel. As he struggled to wedge himself into the seat, Marigold circled the car to get in. After working with so many vets for the past few weeks, she’d learned exactly what not to do with injured veterans. Number one was pity them, and a close number two was offer them any kind of help. If he were truly struggling, she would, even at the risk of having her head snapped off.
The VW cranked like she was supposed to, and they took off. The restaurant Duncan had rented was around the loop a little to the North, and they probably should have been on the way already. She shifted again as she merged onto the highway.
“This car is amazing,” he said. “What year is it?”
“It’s a seventy. My dad had it restored before he went overseas. It was his first car and he wanted to pass it on to me.”
Logan ran his hand over the dash. “It’s in amazing condition. He did a really good job.”
“Thank you. It’s a bit of upkeep, but I can’t imagine driving anything else,” she told him honestly.
“How does it handle the Denver snow?”
“You know, not too bad,” she laughed. “As long as it’s not ass deep she actually goes pretty well because of the front-wheel drive.”
Logan nodded his head, turning to look out the window. The conversation seemed to be at an end, if she let it. No, there was too much to learn about him.
“How long do you plan to be in Denver?”
He shrugged, lightly. “I guess it depends upon how quickly Palmer finds anything, or if he does.”
Marigold glanced at him. “Oh, he will. The guy can be a dick, but he knows his job.”
That made him look at her. “That’s your boss you’re calling a dick.”
Giving him a tight grin, she nodded once. “Yeah, and I would call him a dick to his face, too. He’s not one of my favorite men.”
Curiosity sharpened his expression. “What made you not like him?”
Marigold sighed. “It sounds stupid and petty, but he made fun of my name. The name my dad chose for me before he was killed.”
Logan scowled. “That’s not stupid. I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thank you.” She waved a hand. “I don’t really remember him. Just flashes and impressions.”
Signaling a lane change, she shifted over to the off ramp. “Just to warn you, this is going to be hectic as hell because all these guys know each other. I’ve only been here a few weeks and I can tell these people really like to have fun.”
He smiled slightly. “That’s good to know. And who’s birthday is this?”
“Oh, it’s a company birthday,” she said. “They just signed paperwork to create a new Lost and Found branch in Columbus, Ohio. Denver is the main office. Vail is the second office, and Columbus the third. I think they’re maybe talking about Texas, too, but that’s later on down the road.”
Logan nodded. “Business must be doing well.”
Marigold laughed. “You know, there’s no end to jealous wives and husbands, I will say that. I think the Columbus branch will be more corporate stuff, is what I’m feeling. And criminal investigations. Our branch does a little bit of everything from forensic genealogy to corporate espionage and personal protection. I’m still learning everything we do.”
“Job security,” he murmured.
She grinned at him. “Definitely.”
She turned right at the light and accelerated. “And what about you? What branch were you in?”
“Army,” he said shortly.
“How long were you in?”
“Almost 6 years.”
She gave him a sharp look. “You have a baby face, then. You don’t seem that old.”
He gave a bitter laugh, looking out the window. “Baby face. Right.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, Marigold realized. It was too late to take the words back now.
Marigold didn’t say anything else as they pulled up to the restaurant, a popular Denver steakhouse. Shannon had called last week and booked a banquet room for the group, knowing they would need the space. As they walked into the dark and intimate room, even she had to stop and stare at all the people inside. A lot of the men she recognized, but there were women that she didn’t know. She just hadn’t been here long enough to know everyone.
Alex, Duncan’s wife, happened to be closest to the door, and she crossed to welcome them in. “Marigold, welcome! You probably haven’t been to one of these little LNF shindigs, have you?”
Marigold shook her head, a little intimidated by the beautiful, auburn-haired doctor. She wanted to be Alex Wilde when she grew up. “I’ve heard about them, though. Alex, this is Logan Vance. Gunny Palmer is working on a background search for him.”
Alex smiled beautifully and reached out a hand. Logan turned the damaged side of his face away from her but shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Marigold watched Alex’s face for any kind of reaction to Logan’s injuries, but she could only see welcome in Alex’s pretty, calm expression.
“Duncan is holding court at the end of the room, near the fireplace. I think he’s part reptile, or something, the way he always goes for the heat source. Dinner will be in half an hour.”
Marigold looked down the room. Yep, there he was, leaning against the stone mantel of a giant fireplace. She was a little surprised that he could even stand so close to the flames.
Palmer was in his chair to Wilde’s right, talking to a massive guy with a mostly shaved head. Marigold had no idea who that was, or what he did for the company. Actually, there were several men down there she didn’t recognize.
She scanned the room. Shannon and a few of the women were seated at the long table, drinking glasses of wine or ice water. When she saw Marigold, she waved and called her over. “Go ahead,” Alex murmured. “I’m the unofficial hostess tonight, so I’m stuck on door duty.”
Marigold crossed to the table, Logan close behind her.
“Marigold, thi
s is Willow, Ember, Rachel, Kendall, and I think you’ve met Lora.”
All of the women were beautiful, in completely different ways, and made Marigold wish she had the tiniest bit of poise that these women had. She lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” She held out a hand for Logan to step up. “This is Logan, everyone. He’s here for Palmer to investigate something for him.”
The women all said hello, and she watched for any of them to react adversely to his injuries, but they’d all been around the group long enough to know when not to react. Hell, they all had their own injured warriors.
Wait. Their own? Marigold looked at Logan, wondering when she’d gotten possessive over him. That really wasn’t like her. Yes, she’d had the overwhelming feeling that she needed to know him, but did she need to claim him? She didn’t think so. That really wasn’t her style. The thought of dealing with a significant other right now made her tired. There was too much going on in her life. It was difficult to deny the tingle she felt when he was nearby, though. That was something she hadn’t felt with anyone else before.
Logan seemed like a decent guy, and he was damn easy on the eyes, in spite of the injuries, but she didn’t think John and Shannon would appreciate her hooking up with one of their clients.
Logan shifted away from the group like he wanted to fade into the background. Marigold caught Shannon’s gaze and the woman shared a smile with her in understanding. Their group was a lot, and it could be overwhelming. Logan had the look of a drowning man. She would let him catch his breath for a minute.
8
Logan looked around the room at the people gathered there. What the hell was he doing here? These people meant nothing to him, and they were derailing his objective. He needed to get in, apologize to Miller’s family, and get out.
Sounded easier than he knew it would be.
It was hard to stay on point, when he could see the joy and excitement bubbling around him. Apparently, this was a project they’d been working on for a while and it had just come to fruition. Logan felt like a voyeur, spying on their accomplishments. And then the women had welcomed him into their midst, for some reason making him feel like even more of an interloper.