About Hana
Page 37
Chapter 37
The climb to the house appeared steep and unforgiving in the twilight. An unexpected visitor left his bike at the bottom of the driveway, fearful it might skid and slide on the loose gravel and tip him over one of the sharper faces of the hillside. Darkness grew around him without the soft haze of streetlights to break its impact and he stuck to the ridge of grass at the side of the driveway.
Finding Hana absent from Achilles Rise and only Tiger sitting in the first floor window, Logan drove to Ngaruawahia in pursuit. Her sudden animosity confused and frightened him. The house looked dark from the front, but the sloping driveway revealed his truck, parked askew. The back seats bent forwards and a dent from something heavy left a mark in the gravel behind the bumper. Walking forwards, Logan stopped at the sight of a smart silver BMW tucked into the garage.
The moon woke, making the silver paint on the flashy car glimmer and sparkle. It put his old truck to shame. Logan ran his hands through his hair, not recognising the vehicle and mindful of Hana’s recent issues. He glanced up at the lighted window, hearing voices and making out two silhouettes back-lit by a single bulb. Hearing Hana’s voice, Logan’s jaw tensed and he tracked to the other side of the slope, clambering onto a retaining wall to get a better view through the window.
He recognised the back of Hana’s head, her hair piled on top in a messy bun. She turned sideways and Logan saw her profile against the yellow glow of the light bulb. Her laughing profile. The other silhouette looked male and taller than Hana. He sat forwards so Logan could only see the top of his back. The man lifted his forearm and Hana’s head bobbed forward, giving it all her attention.
Logan watched, his heart pounding in his chest. He closed his eyes and imagined himself climbing the stairs and bursting in on them. Humiliation burgeoned like a heated flush and he knew he wouldn’t follow through.
More laughter disturbed the darkness, followed by the clink of glasses. Then the profiles leaned together and kissed. Logan let out an audible sigh. “Shit, shit, shit!” he hissed under his breath. “What the hell happened?”
His body heavy, he returned the way he came, slipping and sliding in the grit without caring. “What did you do, Caroline?” he groaned. “What did you tell her about us?”
Of course, Hana would move on. Any man would be lucky to date her. But the speed of it made him nauseous.
Logan unlocked his bike and rested his hands on the seat. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the leather. In anger he snatched his phone from his inside pocket and dialled a number, not waiting for a greeting from the other end. “What did you do?” he snapped, his anger palpable.
A sexy laugh filtered through the darkness. “Thanks for last night,” she crooned. “I’d like a lift home next time.”
“Go to hell!” Logan disconnected and slammed his helmet on his head. The expensive bike roared to life without a protest, infusing him with a sense of gratitude. One glimpse of loyalty in a cruel world.
His speed topped a tonne on the back road towards Huntly and he floored it, feeling the wind tug at his jacket. Curses ran through his head along with the realisation; so near but still too far.