7. Logan
Logan
I pull up to the curb the second I see the front door of the flop house swing open. Tess is getting shoved toward the street, some asshole right on her heels.
An asshole who isn't long for this world, considering he's got a gun pointed at her.
I fling my car door open and sprint toward them, yelling to get the fucker's attention.
"Hey!"
His eyes shoot to me, caught off guard, and I punch him square in the face. The blow sends Tess flying into the grass.
She scrambles toward me while I face off with the greasy, suit-wearing motherfucker who had the gall to point a gun at my girl.
No. Not yours, Logan. Focus.
"What the hell?!" The guy grabs his nose, blood pouring between his fingers. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"
He tries to level the gun at me, but I grab his wrist and squeeze until the tendons give him no choice but to drop it.
"Ahh! Get off me!"
Before I can say a word, Tess is in my peripheral vision, marching up to the guy and kicking him square in the crotch.
He curls in on himself, and I let his arm drop, turning to her.
"Tell me what the fuck you're doing out here."
Tess's eyes flare as she meets my stare, and the fury I'm barely holding back locks onto her instead.
"I—ugh, no matter what I say, you're not going to like it. I was trying to get dirt on Cilento." She glares down at the man curled on the ground. "But it was a double-cross. He got paid off."
I clench my jaw, fighting not to snap. "Of course he got paid off. The reward for you is enormous, Tess. Who the hell messages you out of the blue like that and doesn't set off alarm bells?"
Her stare rockets back to mine. "You knew about the reward?! The hell?!"
"That's what you're focused on? Not the fact that some asshole very easily lured you out of hiding to drag you off to Cilento? He was going to hand you over and let them gut you, Tess! He was going to kill you!"
I realize I'm shouting too late. A glassy sheen hits her eyes, but it's not tears, and it's not sadness.
Tess is fucking pissed.
Well. Welcome to the club, sweetheart.
"Don't you dare scream at me!" She levels me with a glare, arms crossed. "This is my job, Logan. My life's work. I will not let anyone take that from me. Least of all Cilento."
I have to hand it to her—that's ballsy. Brave, even. But it's also reckless, and it completely disregards the real harm that could've been done tonight.
"I'm not telling you to quit your job. I'm telling you that you need to put your safety first. Just once."
"While people out there die because of Cilento? No. My safety isn't worth theirs."
Goddamn, she's righteous.
A rustle in the grass drags our attention down. The gun-happy fuckbag is trying to crawl away toward his car.
I haul him up by the scruff of his shirt. "Not a chance, asshole."
"He's just some scum from the paper." She steps toward him, holding his eye pointedly. "Something tells me when he crawls back to his 'boss' without me, he's going to be in a lot of trouble."
Understanding flashes across the scumbag's face. Tess has a point, but I still want to make damn sure he doesn't get away.
I pull the cuffs from my back pocket—the ones I grabbed before leaving the house—and lock one around his wrist, the other to the passenger door handle of his own car.
"Hopefully they find him soon."
The sarcasm is thick, and I scowl at the guy before hauling Tess back toward my car.
"We're getting out of here."
She yanks her arm free, glaring at me from the passenger side. Her eyes are bright with frustration and anger, and if the situation were different, it'd be hot as hell.
"Don't just drag me around. I'm not a child."
"Could've fooled me. Or are you not the one who snuck out in the middle of the night to do something insanely dangerous?"
"Ugh." She yanks at the locked door until I hit the remote and it pops open. "You will not make me feel guilty for doing my job."
She drops into the seat and slams the door before I can say anything else.
My jaw's clenched so hard it aches, and I have to rein in every urge to shake some sense into her.
It won't work. I know that. And I know I'm pissed.
Don't do anything angry. You'll regret it.
I walk around, get behind the wheel, and crank the ignition. I grip the steering wheel for a second before I put the car in drive.
"Are you okay? He attacked you. Do you need—"
"I'm fine. Don't fuss. Andrew's a lot more bark than bite."
That earns her a sharp look. "He had a gun, Tess. That's a hell of a lot of bite."
She rolls her eyes and turns to the window, jaw working as she leans away from me.
"I'm fine. Leave it. You did your bodyguard thing. You protected me."
"I shouldn't have had to protect you. Not from this. This was a risk you could've avoided entirely, and you didn't even talk to me before deciding it was a good idea to—"
"I don't need to run my decisions by you. I'm not a child."
Another glare. I grumble and pull out, getting us away from that house as fast as I can.
She doesn't like the way I'm driving. I don't care right now.
Tess could have died tonight. Died. And she doesn't seem to understand the weight of that at all.
What if I'd been a minute later? What if I wasn't as good as she thinks I am?
My gut twists at the thought, nausea rolling through me as I push the car harder than I should.
I hate this. What did she think would happen? I can't be everywhere. Does she actually think she's invincible? Because she's not. Rebecca wasn't—
My thoughts slam to a stop as the wrong name surfaces.
Rebecca. I couldn't protect her. I knew the guy she was seeing was bad news. I warned her. She never listened.
And now she's dead.
The same thing could have happened to Tess tonight. And I cannot let that happen. Not again. Not to her.
It hits me how deep this runs, how furious and shaken I am over a woman I've known for days. I shouldn't feel this way about a client.
But there's the problem, isn't it.
Tess and I blurred that line almost immediately. After years of keeping myself locked down—never too close, never too involved, not with clients, not with anyone.
And look at me now.
This is a mess. We need to reset, start over, if we're going to work as a team.
And whatever this is between us has to stay strictly platonic.
No matter what the rest of me thinks about that. My feelings don't matter. The connection doesn't matter. What matters is keeping Tess alive.
We reach the safe house, and I check the perimeter twice before I let her go inside—make sure we weren't followed, that the place is still secure, that nothing's tripped the system.
It's late. Past three in the morning. I know she wants nothing more than to fall into bed.
But we need to get one thing straight first. Tonight was a mistake, and it can't happen again.
My job is to keep her alive, and if that means laying down the law, so be it.
She might hate it. She'll hate a bullet in the skull a lot more.
Once we're both inside and the house is locked down, I stop her before she can start up the stairs.
"Hey." She turns, still perched on the bottom step, which puts her eye to eye with me. "You cannot do that again. Every decision, every meeting, every piece of information—it comes through me first. I'm your handler while you're in witness protection. I need you to remember that."
"I'm tired, Logan. I want to go to bed. Enjoy the couch." She crosses her arms, chin lifted, like she knows this isn't over. "Thank you for handling Andrew. We can talk about the rest in the morning."
Frustration boils up fast. Tess is smart—we both know it—but right now she's being reckless, and I need her to understand that, one way or another.
"Ms. Beaumont." My voice drops low, seething. "You will listen to me. So help me. Is that understood?"