Dark Knight: A Loveswept Romance Classic (18 page)

Logan’s eyes widened. “And you lived?”

Scottie smiled sadly. “Barely.” She sobered, her voice quieting as she continued. “By then my marriage was worse than lousy, which is saying something since it was never all that great. Jim, my husband, more or less took up where my father left off. Nothing I did was right, I was a constant disappointment, whether it was my cooking, my housekeeping skills, even my police work.”

“Why didn’t you leave the bastard?”

She looked at him flatly. “Even though I hated how they treated me, and fought it constantly, I still deluded myself into believing that someday, if I just stuck it out
long enough, they’d see that I was right and be proud of what I’d done. I know it sounds stupid, but when you’re in the middle of it, that’s all you have. I couldn’t just walk away from my family. And if I filed for divorce, I wouldn’t have had to worry about that. They’d have walked away from me.” She paused for a moment. She felt his fingers push the hair back from her cheek and smooth along her ear. He rubbed the back of her neck.

Simple gestures, yet they almost undid her. No one, not once, not ever, had thought of her comfort, much less taken it upon themselves to soothe her.

When she continued, her voice was shaky and subdued. “I got my gold shield on Christmas Eve, eleven years ago. I had a huge fight with Jim, who called his father and mine over to yell at me some more. Like I was going to give it back when I’d worked so damn hard—” She broke off as her throat closed over.

Logan immediately tugged her closer, pulling her gently into his arms. She should have fought him, but it felt too damn good. He was offering a sanctuary she’d never known existed, and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.

“I’m sorry,” Logan whispered. He turned her so she was cradled in his lap, her legs stretched out along the couch. He pulled her head to his chest. “You don’t have to—”

Eyes burning with emotion, she pulled back and looked at him. She had to finish. “In front of all three of them, I told him that I was filing for divorce and walked out. I ended up in a hotel. Twelve hours later my father and Jim were called out to a riot scene that broke out downtown Christmas morning.”

Understanding dawned in Logan’s eyes as he did the mental calculation. “The Christmas Massacre. I remember it. Your dad was—”

“Was one of the officers killed. Jim too. Jim’s dad survived. So did I. By the time we were sent to the scene, the National Guard had been called out. I was never in danger. Jim’s dad never forgave me. Said it was my fault, that my father and Jim were so upset that they couldn’t have been thinking clearly.”

“That’s bull—”

Scottie pressed her fingers against his mouth. “I know that. Just like you know that Sarah dying wasn’t your fault. Not really.”

He pulled her hand away. “Not the same thing. It was my decision not to move her that directly caused the chain of events that killed her. You didn’t start those riots.”

“Logan—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.” He pressed his forehead against hers. After a moment of silence, he said, very quietly, “Maybe I’m starting to understand that no matter what I did that night, I might have lost her anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever excuse myself entirely, though. I can’t. Some of the guilt is mine.”

She carefully lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “See, that’s just it. I don’t feel guilty because I thought it was my fault they died. I feel guilty because the moment it was confirmed to me that they had both died, I should have been overcome with grief and anguish.”

“You felt those things, Scottie. It was a harrowing day. Six other police officers died along with a score of
civilians. You can be excused for being in shock and not—”

“I wasn’t in shock. And what I felt was relief. Stone-cold relief.” She hung her head. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

TEN

Logan was all set to debate the issue, but bit off the argument at the last second. Who was he to preach to her about unwarranted guilt?

Unwarranted. He
was
actually beginning to think of what happened with Sarah a bit more objectively. He knew he would never entirely excuse himself and didn’t feel he should. His decisions, good or bad, had played a role in her death. There was no way around that fact. But the condemning aspect of the guilt was receding, along with some of the anguish.

He looked at the woman he held in his arms. She was responsible. She made him think about things in an entirely different way. Maybe it was because she’d had a background similar to his, though he’d never once been tempted to date a fellow cop. No, it went much deeper than that. His connection to her was … instinctive, as if he knew her.
Knew
her. Sharing similar careers didn’t create a bond like theirs. This connection was soul to soul.

Once the words sprang to his mind, he couldn’t ignore the basic truth of them. Sarah had captured his heart and his imagination, but this woman had captured something far more valuable. She’d captured his spirit, his very soul. She had connected to the man he truly was, every layer, good and bad. She made him feel … accepted.

His throat grew tight, and his eyes were suddenly itchy. He tucked her head against his chest to buy a moment or two to get ahold of the emotions that had suddenly swamped him. But the moment she nestled her cheek to his chest, the battle only intensified.

“What did you do after they died?” he asked gruffly.

She snuggled closer. His heart squeezed another notch tighter.

He felt more than heard her gentle sigh. “I buried them. With all the media hoopla surrounding the aftermath of the riots, it was an exhausting time. After that, I stayed on the force. As a detective. Everyone was very sympathetic.”

“You had a hard time dealing with that, didn’t you?”

She lifted her head and stared at him, her expression a mix of wonder and gratitude. “Yes, I did. With everything going on, I was wiped out. I doubt anyone noticed that it was more exhaustion that made me pale and tired looking, rather than overwhelming grief.”

“You grieved, Scottie. Maybe not the way you think you should have, but it still tore a hole in your life.”

She thought about that for a moment, then said, “Maybe you’re right. I grieved for what should have been. For the type of family I so badly wanted us to be, for the family we never could be now.” Her eyes were a bit glassy as she continued to stare up at him. “You
know, to this day, you are the only one who’s ever truly understood all this. Understood the way I felt.” She blinked hard several times. “Thank you. Thank you for making it okay.”

“Maybe you should have given someone the chance to hear you out before this.” Even as he said it, he knew she wouldn’t have. He’d trusted her with a piece of himself, feelings he’d never shared before, because somehow he’d known she would understand. He sensed she had just done the same with him.

“No,” she said, confirming his intuition. “I was ashamed of how I felt, but it didn’t change the fact that I did feel the way I did. No one would have understood something like that. I was never big into discussing my personal problems with anyone.”

Until now, he thought. And she’d chosen him to confide in. He’d have said she’d chosen unwisely except for one incontrovertible fact: He did understand.

“I’m sure it was no secret that we weren’t a loving, close family, but—”

“On the surface you dealt with it,” he finished for her. “In public and at work you probably even joked about it, deflected all sorts of questioning looks and comments with a well-chosen word or toss-away one-liner.”

“You sure you worked Detroit and not my precinct?” She tried to make it a joke, but there was a slight wide-eyed look about her that made it fall just short of the mark.

He knew that feeling, he was experiencing the same one. “Spooky, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” she said softly. After a moment, she glanced away almost shyly. It was a sweet
surprise, another side to Scottie he’d bet his bottom dollar not many, if any, suspected existed.

“Why not transfer to another force?”

“I thought about it. Start over, create a whole new life. I had an application into San Francisco. I did my research. I thought I had a good shot there.”

“What happened?”

“I got another job offer. A better one.”

“Working for Uncle Sam?”

She nodded. “You know, it’s been eleven years since they died. This should be easier to talk about.”

“But you haven’t ever talked about it, have you? Time doesn’t heal all wounds, especially the ones that are never dealt with. They are left to fester.”

She nodded against his chest, then smiled up at him. “I think this one is on its way to healing now. Thanks, Doc.”

“Just returning the favor, Doc.” Logan cuddled her closer, reveling in the way she immediately curled against him. Acceptance. The word floated through his mind again.

It was a heady thing to think she felt as accepted by him, flaws and all, as he did by her. Amazing even to think in terms of acceptance. If anyone had ever asked him, he’d have quite honestly told them he didn’t give a rat’s behind what anyone thought of him. He’d have never guessed just how badly he needed to be truly understood and accepted this way. Powerful, earthshaking stuff.

He pressed his lips to her hair, kissing her softly as he drank in the scent of her. He felt drunk on the rainbow of sensations and emotions cascading through him. He didn’t want to be sober ever again.

“You never told me the whole story,” he said.

“What story?”

“Anunsciata.”

“Oh. That story.” When he didn’t say anything right away, he felt her laugh softly into his shirt. “Go ahead, do your worst,” she said. “I’m immune.”

“No jokes.” But a moment later he said, “Your father really did have it in for you from day one, didn’t he?”

She laughed louder this rime, the deep timbre vibrating against his skin … and his heart.

“My mother’s grandmother’s middle name was Anunsciata. Old-world Italians, very religious.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what your middle name is.”

Scottie looked up and smiled. “Bernadina. After my father’s favorite great-aunt.”

Logan made a face. “Poor kid.”

“Yeah, well, Scottie was better than Bernie, to me anyway. I tried to focus on that.”

He grinned. “Boy, I bet you hated getting in trouble.” When she looked confused, he said, “Didn’t your dad pull the full name out when you broke the rules? I think I would have done just about anything to not hear ‘Anunsciata Bernadina!’ ”

She laughed, nodding. “Yeah, he was the type. It made for some embarrassing moments in roll call.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roll call?”

“You don’t think he stopped just because I grew up? It got worse as I got older.” Her eyes sparkled. “Especially when I outranked him.”

“Another lifetime beat cop? Man, your dad and mine together could have been scary. My dad lived by the creed that it was the patrolmen against the chain of
command. He routinely threatened to retire every time they tried to promote him. Eventually they gave up.” He smiled fondly. “He was one hell of a beat cop, though. Made it his business to know everybody in his neighborhood and made damn sure they all knew him.”

“Sounds like a man to admire. Wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“Me too,” Logan said. “Even after he retired, which he only did when his body finally stopped passing the annual physicals, and opened up Blackie’s, he still kept current with everything that was going on. The bar was a hangout for cops and locals alike. Everyone was comfortable at Blackie’s place. He used to say it was his contribution to community relations to make sure cops and citizens got drunk together every once in a while.”

“I bet he’s terribly missed,” she said.

“It was a helluva wake, aye, it was.” Logan thought back on the three-block-long street party that had lasted on through the night and well into the dawn hours. “Yeah, he’s missed,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” she said just as softly.

He looked down at her. “Me too. He was all I had.”

“Until now.”

For a moment, Logan froze. His immediate thought was that she was referring to herself. It was what he’d thought of when she’d said it. But she meant—

“I can’t imagine how it must feel. A brother, a twin no less,” she said. “It’s so amazing. I know it was a shock, but it’s also a blessing. Other than the fact that I’d never have wanted to subject anyone else to my father’s tyranny, I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to have a brother or sister. You were an only child. Didn’t you ever wish for siblings?”

“Maybe. I guess so. Probably not the way you did. I spent a few years around puberty wishing I had a mother, but my dad and I were close. Our place was always full of other cops and their wives and kids. I was never lonely. Then I discovered girls and well …” He wiggled his eyebrows, wanting to make her laugh.

Strangely, he didn’t want to talk about Lucas with her. Not because he didn’t want to know more about him. She probably knew more about his mysterious twin than anyone else. He did want to pick her brain, find out all he could. Just not right at that moment.