Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What if she doesn’t like me?” A heavy weight settled in the pit of Charlotte’s stomach even as nerves had her hands trembling.
She’d faced off with drug dealers. Terrorists. She’d infiltrated elaborate, underground networks, but the coming meeting had her breaking out into a cold sweat.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan assured her as he opened the door to the right. “My grandmother will love you.”
But what if she didn’t? Charlotte bit her lower lip. Uncertainty quivered through her, and she was afraid. Really, deeply afraid. Because she knew how much Logan loved his grandmother. And if his grandmother didn’t like her—
What? Do you think Logan will stop liking you, too?
No, no, she did not think that, it was just—this was his grandmother!
“She’s having a good day.” Happy words from a woman in bright blue scrubs with a heart clipped to her name tag.
Frannie. “I told her you were coming.” She gave Logan a pat on the shoulder as she swept past him.
“She’s been looking out the window and waiting for you all morning.
” She bobbed her head toward Charlotte. “Enjoy your visit.”
Charlotte crept forward a bit more, peeking into the room. Not just a room—more of a suite. A very lush one, at that. But it wasn’t fancy or modern. In fact, the whole place looked like—
“I had them recreate her old house in here,” Logan explained. “As much as they could. It makes Nana feel more comfortable. Especially on the days when her memory slips.”
Charlotte knew that his grandmother’s dementia had been getting worse. And that Logan had sent her to see every specialist available, that he’d tried every therapy and…
And now he just loved her because, unfortunately, the last trips to the doctors had revealed that there wasn’t anything new to be done. His Nana had also suffered a series of heart attacks last year, and her body had become even more frail after a stroke a few months back.
He advanced into the suite, and Charlotte followed on his heels.
She saw a woman sitting near the big, picture window. Her gaze was directed outside, and her profile looked so bright and hopeful.
Logan cleared his throat. A delicate sound from a hard man. “Hello, Nana.”
Her head turned. Her eyes—the same shade as Logan’s—lit on him. The smile that curved her lips was more brilliant than any flashing billboard. “My Logan!”
She was in a wheelchair. Charlotte hadn’t realized that, not at first glance.
His grandmother turned the chair, and her arms lifted eagerly toward Logan.
He eliminated the distance between them and curled her into a big, warm hug. “You’re even more beautiful today,” he said to her, voice warm and charming, “than you were the last time I visited you.”
A sweet tinkle of laughter came from his grandmother.
He eased back. “I have someone for you to meet.”
His Nana’s eyes widened. “You brought a friend?”
“More than a friend.” He stepped to the side and motioned toward Charlotte.
She tiptoed forward, still so nervous that she was practically shaking.
How could a spy be afraid of a grandmother?
But she was. Because this woman meant so much to Logan.
“I, um, I’m Charlotte.” She lifted the flowers that she’d brought.
Daisies. Logan had said they were his grandmother’s favorite.
She’d accidentally shaken off a few of the white petals with her nervous fingers. “I brought these for you.”
Nana clapped her hands in excitement. She reached for the flowers.
Charlotte extended them toward her.
Nana froze. Shock flashed on her face. She didn’t take the flowers. Instead, she grabbed Charlotte’s hand in a surprisingly strong grip. Charlotte’s left hand.
“That’s my ring.” Nana tightened her hold on Charlotte. “You’re wearing my ring.”
Oh, no. Was Nana upset? Should she offer to give the ring back?
Tears slid down Nana’s cheeks.
“Please don’t cry,” Charlotte whispered. “I’ll give it back. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Nana sniffed. “Don’t you dare give it back.” Her head turned toward Logan. “You love her?”
“I sure do.”
Charlotte felt those easy words roll right through her.
“Then so do I.” Nana was back to looking at her. Smiling so brightly. “I’m Logan’s Nana,” she said, nodding. Beaming.
Charlotte swallowed. “And I’m his wife.”
They visited with Nana for almost two hours. Logan knew the signs to watch for, the tells that showed when his grandmother was getting tired. When her shoulders began to slump and her words to slur softly, he bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Time to rest, Nana,” he told her.
She reached up. Patted his shoulder. Then, “I am tired, Adam. I feel…so very tired.”
Adam. His father’s name. She often confused him and his father these days, so he just nodded. “Let’s get you in bed, and you can sleep for a while. A nap will probably do you good.”
She studied his features. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Her lips pulled down. “You don’t have to work for Freya.”
He sucked in a breath.
“I…she’s my friend, but that work…Freya…she’s so secretive. Be careful with her, son. Be very careful.”
It had been a statement just like that—one given when Nana confused him with his father—that had first turned his suspicions to Freya. A beloved family friend.
A cold-blooded killer.
“I’ll be careful.”
“I know we fought…” Nana swallowed. “Fought so badly about the work you’re doing. I-I hate what I said. I want you back. I miss you so.”
“You have me back. You will always have me.” He pressed another kiss to her cheek. Then, with Charlotte rushing to help, he lifted his Nana up, he carried her to bed, and he gently tucked her beneath the covers. “I love you.”
She went to sleep with a soft smile on her lips.
As soon as they left his grandmother’s suite…
“Gonna tell me what that stuff with Freya was about?” Charlotte asked him.
He reached for her hand. Twined his fingers with hers. “Freya killed my father and my mother.”
“What?”
“And, at the hospital, Jezebel informed me that she found proof of the crimes. Freya is now sitting in a Vegas cell.”
Her gaze searched his. “Logan…”
“I planned to kill her.” That had been an item on his to-do list. Because, as he’d told Charlotte before, he was the eye-for-an-eye type. “But Jezebel reminded me that I need to think of the future.”
She inched closer to him. “What future do you want?”
That was easy. “I want whatever future I can get with you.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Same.” She threw her arms around him and held on as if she’d never let go. “Same.”