Chapter 5 #2
“Who do you work for? DEA?” she asked as she picked up her fork. To her surprise, her hand wasn’t trembling even if her insides were.
He was quiet for a long moment, still watching her carefully. “I did. Years ago. I left after…us.”
She paused at his admission, beyond surprised he’d said yes. Then she snorted, not sure if she believed him. “I have no way to find out if you’re lying, do I?”
“No. I didn’t work for them for long.” Something a lot like bitterness laced his words.
She speared a mushroom, tomato and some of the pasta, tried not to moan as she took a bite. It was a simple meal, but perfect.
“I followed you earlier…to Greg Temple’s house,” he finally said into the quiet.
She froze, but quickly recovered. “I didn’t kill him,” she whispered, stomach clenching.
Cormac frowned. “I know. And I’m sorry about your friend.” He said the last part almost as a question.
All she could do was nod. Everything about this conversation was surreal and she wasn’t going to overanalyze it.
Not now anyway. Instead, she ate like her life depended on it, surprised when she realized her bowl was empty.
But today wasn’t the worst day she’d ever had and those weren’t the first dead bodies she’d seen.
Unfortunately.
When she was twelve, she’d watched her father shoot someone at point-blank range and not blink. She still had the occasional nightmare about that.
“You want more?” he asked into the quiet of her kitchen.
“No…not now anyway.” She might later, but she needed to let it settle. To somehow let herself settle. If that was even possible. “Listen—”
They both froze at a banging on her front door.
With a liquid grace, he withdrew a pistol and took a step toward the front of her house.
“Stop,” she snapped, pulling out her cell. She looked at the security video app, inwardly cursed. Maybe even cursed out loud too. “You need to hide,” she ordered.
Cormac’s whole body vibrated with something. Not anger, but he did not like this at all.
Yeah, well, too bad. She didn’t like a lot of things either.
“Someone who works for my brother is here. I have to get rid of him. If I don’t answer the door, he’ll freak out and that might get my brother over here. I haven’t told him anything about today. He doesn’t know what happened.”
More hard knocking on the front door.
“Just hide in the pantry,” she threw over her shoulder, hurrying toward the foyer. Only when she reached it did she slow down a little as she tried to get her heart rate to even out.
She opened the door, not having to pretend to be annoyed. “Why are you banging on my door this late?” she snapped.
“You didn’t answer your phone.” Logan stared down at her expectantly.
“Okay, and?” When he didn’t respond, she rolled her eyes and turned away, stalking back to the kitchen.
She had to act normal, which in this case, was annoyed.
She was in her bathrobe and had her hair in a towel.
Clearly she was in for the night and didn’t want to be disturbed. But here he was, doing just that.
“I was worried about you… You cooked?” He was close behind her, all up in her personal space, much to her annoyance.
And as she started putting stuff in the sink, she noticed that he didn’t think about offering to help. Because of course he didn’t. He was one of those old-school men who thought women belonged in the kitchen.
Which was so beyond stupid. Everyone belonged in the kitchen—everyone ate, didn’t they? Maybe cyborgs didn’t. Hmm. She realized he was still watching her and she hoped Cormac had hidden well and wouldn’t come out.
“You can’t just show up because you’re worried about me. It’s really weird,” she added, making sure her expression clearly showed that. She was so used to keeping a neutral mask—she’d had to, growing up with the vipers of her family—but Logan needed to know this was not okay.
His frown deepened and he sort of puffed out his chest. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Not by accident. “Still not okay. I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so unless you need something, I’d like you to leave so I can set my alarm.”
“I stopped by your gallery,” he said instead of leaving.
He caught her off guard. “When?”
“Around lunchtime. And you weren’t there.”
Okay so he definitely didn’t know about what had happened today. Because if he or her brother knew about her killing Dima Lebedev, they’d be having a different conversation.
“Probably because I was at lunch,” she murmured, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She was pretty sure she failed.
His jaw clenched as he glanced around her kitchen, looking for what, she had no idea.
But she also made a mental note to text her brother before she went to sleep.
She was simply going to ask him to come by the gallery tomorrow.
She’d tell him about killing Dima then and let him have his reaction.
Whatever it would be. Unlike their father, Julian knew how to regulate his emotions.
Or most of the time he did. Her brother didn’t fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.
He was violent, to be sure, and she had no doubt he’d killed before, but he wasn’t a hothead.
It was no wonder her father had handed over the reins to him so easily.
Julian had never been cruel to her, she would give him that.
Even the thought was sad because that was less than the bare minimum of what she should expect from a sibling.
“You shouldn’t be living by yourself,” Logan said as he moved around the island and opened her fridge. As if they had that kind of relationship.
What the hell? Why was he still here? “Okay, where should I be living?” she snapped, the tether on her rage almost completely shredded.
“With your family until you’re married.”
Oh sweet flying raccoons, he was out of his mind.
And she didn’t have the bandwidth for this tonight.
“Logan. You need to leave.” She strode from her kitchen, her feet cold against the tile until she reached the foyer.
She wasn’t entertaining any of his nonsense anymore.
And next time she wasn’t going to answer the damn door.
He could just keep knocking until he passed out.
Because this was an escalation from his previous annoyances.
Thankfully he followed her, but he still lingered under her mini chandelier. As she looked up at him, she couldn’t help but compare him to Cormac. They were both tall, fit, and okay, Logan was handsome too.
But his blue eyes were cruel, and she had no doubt that underneath his civilized veneer he was a monster.
He was the kind of man who would consider sex in a marriage his right, to be taken whether his wife wanted it or not.
She suppressed a shudder at the way he was watching her. As if she was a possession.
“I don’t understand why you won’t give me a chance. Give us a chance.” His voice was calm, smooth.