Logan's Redemption (21 page)

No, she thought, shaking her head. She would trust them both. She froze in the kitchen doorway as a sense of foreboding worked its way through her. Logan was walking into danger. Somehow she knew that. It couldn’t be. Stress had her imagining evil where there was none.

Forcing her apprehension away, Doriana loaded the dishwasher, using the mindless task to calm her. A police siren in the distance set her nerves on edge. Feeling ready to scream, she switched on the radio and turned it off just as quickly. Darned Christmas tunes. They filled every airwave this time of year. As a child she’d loved Christmas, and especially loved the songs.

The lonely Christmas Eve when Josh was born changed everything. In the years since, she’d gone through the motions and the superficial trappings—the tree, the decorating, the shopping—for Josh’s sake.

She didn’t know if she could keep up the pretense this year. Logan’s return had set her well-ordered life on its rear. She suspected she and Josh would never be the same. A part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to a life without Logan.

The truth that had been knocking at the edges of her heart burst free. She leaned against the kitchen sink. The plate she held fell onto the floor and shattered.     

She loved Logan. Had never stopped loving him. She’d been in denial, but she could no longer ignore what her heart had always known. She wanted to believe in him again. A knot of fear constricted her chest and she fisted her hand against her mouth. She pressed against the cold, hard stainless of the sink, welcoming the slight physical pain to ease the torture of her soul.

Logan could hurt her again. Worse, he could hurt Josh. Logan had the power to hurt both of them deeply.

~~~~

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cheap liquor and stale tobacco. Logan’s stomach clenched at the memories that assaulted him. Memories of a scared, skinny kid standing in a seedy bar just like this one. A kid coming to drag his drunken father home while his mother lay dying of cancer. Logan blinked to clear his vision, clouded by smoke and pain.

He spotted Candi in a booth at the other end of the room and headed toward her, ignoring the belligerent looks thrown his way. In no mood for a bar fight, he avoided eye contact with the other patrons.

Logan slid into a seat opposite Candi and she threw him a nervous smile.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said.

“You’re in trouble. I want to help.” He gave her a reassuring smile and glanced at his watch. He wanted and needed to be with Doriana. But he had a job to do.

“Got a hot date later?” Candi said, arching an eyebrow.

Logan laughed. “Hardly.”  

A waitress whose time-worn face still held some semblance of youthful beauty came over to take his drink order.

“Ginger ale,” he said.

Candi wrapped her hand around her glass of beer and watched the waitress walk away. She leaned toward Logan. “You don’t drink? You really are too good to be true. The women at work get all hot and bothered whenever they see you. Are you an angel who looks like the devil?”

He waved a hand. “Don’t.”

“Modest too,” she said.

He held her gaze. “Now tell me what’s going on. And I want the truth.”

She took a sip of beer, peering at him over the rim of the tall glass. Setting the glass on the table, she released a deep sigh. “Some things are going down that scare me. I think I may have gotten in too deep.” Her voice trembled.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Candi?”

Her face pinked and she slid her gaze to the large clock hanging on the wall.

The waitress came with his drink, distracting him. Candi chugged her beer and ordered another. They sat in silence, Candi looking out over the bar, anywhere except at him, until the waitress brought her drink.

“Candi,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

She turned to him with eyes that had hardened to blue granite. The fear and vulnerability that had shadowed them a few minutes ago had disappeared.

A chill passed over Logan. Candi was a survivor. They had that in common. She put on different faces, but he believed she was straight with him. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. He shifted in his seat. She needed his help. And he needed her information.

“Is it Bryce James?” he asked.   

Shock registered on Candi’s pretty face. She coughed on the beer she just sipped. “How do you know about Bryce?”  Her eyes glittered and her voice held a brittle, defiant tone.

“How I know is not important,” he said. “I can help you. You don’t owe him anything. Has he gotten you involved in something illegal?”  

Sadness crossed her features for a fleeting instant before a calculating hardness took over. “Bryce buys me nice things.” She fingered the diamond bracelet on her wrist and let out a short, bitter laugh. “I take real good care of him too.”   

“Is he the one beating up on you?” Logan asked.

“Bryce?”  Her lips curled in a sneer. “Bryce wouldn’t crush a bug. He’s not man enough.” She flicked a nervous glance toward the clock, then turned back to Logan. “He loves me.” She wrapped her hands so tightly around her glass Logan thought it would shatter.

“Bryce?”

She wrinkled her nose. “God, no. Bryce will never leave that mousy wife of his.”

“And you think this other guy loves you? He sure has a funny way of showing it. Open your eyes before it’s too late.”

She pushed her glass aside. Her lips quirked in a flirtatious smile. “My eyes are wide open,” she said in a husky voice. “And I like what I see.” She reached out to glide one of her long, slender fingers over the back of his hand. “I know how to keep a man happy.”

Pity coiled in Logan’s stomach. How many drinks had she had before he got there? “Don’t. You have a lot more to offer a man than just your body.”

She threw back her head and laughed, a grating, bitter sound. Several of the bar patrons turned to stare at her. When she looked back at Logan, despair clouded her eyes. “Try telling that to my uncles and all the other men from the old neighborhood who couldn’t keep their sweaty paws off me. I learned real early what men want from me.”  

Logan took one of her hands in his. “Stop that. No matter what you did in the past, you deserve respect, not abuse.”

Scowling, she pulled her hand away. “Get real.”

Logan sipped his soda, buying time to control his anger and his frustration. Candi slid another glance toward the clock. The hairs on his nape prickled against his jacket collar. He quickly downed his ginger ale, but he couldn’t wash away the feeling of unease that grew stronger every minute.    

Pushing his empty glass aside, he leaned over the table, forcing Candi to look at him. “If you won’t let me help you, why did you drag me here?”

She shrugged. “You got a date with Boss Lady later?”

“Leave Doriana out of this. Why did you ask me here?”

“I needed someone to talk to,” she said. “I know things about work and I have no one else to trust.”  

Logan ignored the small voice in his brain that told him Candi wasn’t being straight with him. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt this time. He sat back in his seat, trying to look relaxed. “What things?”  He flicked at a piece of imaginary lint on his jacket. Clouds of cigarette smoke hung in the room, burning his throat. He signaled the waitress for another soda.

“I want to tell you,” Candi said. “But I’m afraid.”

He forced down his frustration. “Just say it.”

She dropped her gaze to the table. “It’s almost over so it doesn’t matter.”

Logan tightened his jaw. Candi’s constant baiting, then pulling back, made him feel like a damn fish on a long line. “I’m tired of games.” He stood and threw some bills on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

Candi licked her lips and looked over at the clock. She grabbed Logan’s arm. “Don’t go. Please.”

The panic in her voice stirred pity in him. Despite the warning shivers that raced up his spine, Logan sat down and narrowed his gaze at her. “What is it you know about work? What kinds of things?”   

“If I tell you, and he finds out, he’ll hurt me real bad.” Fear and defiance mingled in her  eyes.     

Logan understood all too well the hold an abuser had on his victim. First his mother, then he, had lived through that particular hell. But he would not be Candi’s enabler. He banged his fist on the table. Candi’s glass rattled and beer spilled out.

“And if you stay with him, he’ll kill you,” Logan said. “Tell me what you know and I’ll protect you. There are safe houses you can go to where he can’t touch you.” Some of Logan’s anger drained away at the tears glistening in Candi’s eyes. He placed one of his hands over hers on the table. “I promise I’ll protect you.” The waitress set a fresh glass of ginger ale in front of him. He took a long chug, his gaze on Candi.

She pulled her hand free and swiped at a tear. “You know those bids being stolen at work?” 

His pulse raced. “How do you know they were stolen?”

She paled. “It’s all going to be over soon. And no one will get hurt.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

She shrugged.

Logan bit back his anger. “That’s all you can tell me?” he asked with as much calmness as he could muster.

Candi glanced toward the wall clock again. Logan followed her gaze. “What crazy game are you playing, Candi?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She refused to meet his gaze.

“I’m going,” he said, standing up.

“You have to stay.” She looked at him with desperation. “You can’t leave.”    

The truth sucker-punched him and he cursed himself for ignoring the warnings. Doriana! He sprinted out of the bar. Candi’s shouts followed him onto the street.

* * * *

Doriana hung up the phone slowly. A bitter taste rose in her mouth and her stomach felt as if a clump of cement lodged there. Josh had lied. Her call surprised Mrs. Morelli. Josh wasn’t at their house. Steven was in Wilmington, staying with his dad for the weekend.

Anger at herself and at Josh churned her stomach. She should have called Mrs. Morelli before she allowed Josh to leave. But she was too intent on showing Logan she had control of her son. Their son.     

The phone rang, insistent and shrill in the quiet. Josh! She raced to answer.

“I know you’re alone, sexy.”

The evil-sounding voice sent chills down her spine.

“Your cheating pretty boy is gone
,”
the smooth, cruel voice continued
.
“Let me in and I’ll show you a real man
.”

Doriana slammed the phone down. She hugged herself to stop trembling. He was watching her. How else would he know Logan was out? Fear pressed against her chest. But Logan had someone looking out for her. She’d be okay.  

The security alarm. She’d forgotten to set it. Before she could get to the alarm, a knock sounded at the back door. The doorknob jangled and she stifled a scream. Like a frightened female in a horror movie, she stood paralyzed.

Anger shot through her, propelling her from her freezing fear. She wasn’t some insipid character in a movie. She did a quick inventory of the room. She snatched the cordless phone and dialed nine-one-one, then grabbed a heavy crystal vase from a table. The back doorknob jangled louder. She emptied the vase, not caring about the flowers and water on the rug.

The nine-one-one operator answered just as the front door opened. Doriana let out a loud shriek and dropped the phone. Whirling to face the door, she held the vase high, ready to strike.

“What the hell?”

Logan strode into the room. Doriana’s knees gave way. She dropped the vase and sank to the floor.

“Doriana.” He ran to her and knelt in front of her, hooking her chin with his fingers. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“Back door.”

As if on cue, the back doorknob jangled again, followed by a loud knock.

“Son of a bitch.” Logan stood and clenched his fists. Rage flashed from his eyes and he headed for the kitchen at a run.

The sound of furniture scraping the hardwood floor, followed by Logan’s loud cursing, told Doriana he had bumped into one of the dining room chairs. Fear pinned her to the spot and she said a silent prayer for Logan. The back door opened and slammed shut and she knew he went outside. Long minutes passed. Nothing. Had someone been lying in wait for Logan? Was he hurt? She pushed up from the floor and reached for the vase, ready to go in pursuit. She froze at the sound of footsteps behind her and slowly turned.  

Logan marched back into the room, fury darkening his face. He gathered her to him and cradled her in his arms. “The son of a bitch got away. If I hadn’t tripped over the damn chair.” He pulled her tighter. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should have been here.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And you’re here now.”   

“Everything will be okay.” His soothing words stilled her trembling.

How easy it would be to lose herself in Logan, to let him take care of her. Old fears reared up. She couldn’t give him her heart again. He asked for her trust but he didn’t trust her enough to tell her why he’d left all those years ago.