Chapter 30 #2
“Like I can’t build a fence or remember to close a gate,” Logan adds, glaring knowingly at his brother-in-law.
“Now that you mention it, Mak did say Robbie’s seemed unusually quiet these last weeks,” Holt says.
Silence hangs in the apartment as they digest my theory.
“Well, hell! I just wrote him a shining recommendation letter!” Jon blurts.
“There’s nothing here to tie Robbie to it.” I wave a hand at the computer and the nearby staples. We won’t find prints on any of them, not when they sat in the snow. “But I’d say it’s a good hunch. Our best bet is to see if he’ll admit to it.”
“As if he would,” Jon scoffs.
“He might. People with a conscience can get really uncomfortable when they sit with their sins long enough.”
Holt scratches his cheek in thought. “I guess I’ll give him a call tomorrow—”
“No. I’ll have a chat with him.” I’m better at getting confessions out of people. “What I need you to do is file a police report. Don’t mention Robbie. Just include the facts.”
Jon groans. “Is that really necessary—”
“Yes. Forget the wolves getting in. If your herd gets out, people could get seriously hurt and you could be held liable.” These animals are not like the wandering cows that my officers wrangle off the roads.
They’ll run you right over just to get away.
“But if you’ve reported it and something bad happens, at least it shows you weren’t ignoring the problem.
” And Robbie, if he’s the culprit, will be fucked.
“We’ll do it first thing in the morning.” Holt nods. “Thank you, Emery, for your help.”
I check my watch. “I should head home. Isla’s game is about to start—”
“You can put it on here, can’t you?” Logan nods toward his television.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’m leaving, anyway.” Jon collects his laptop. “Gotta help put the kids to bed.”
I press my lips to hide my smile. Jon’s version of “helping put the kids to bed” is lying down next to Egan with Goodnight Moon and promptly falling asleep.
“I’m gonna head back too. It was a long day.
” Holt crouches to give Duke a pat. After conducting a leisurely sniff investigation around Logan’s apartment, the dog found a warm spot by the woodstove.
He looks content to stay there for the night.
“See you in the mornin’, Logan.” He gives his son a look that could mean so many things, and then he disappears down the stairs after Jon, pulling the door shut after him.
Logan eases off his stool with a stretch that lifts the hem of his T-shirt, revealing the taut skin across his belly. I swear, he chose those pants to torture me. “Hungry? Thirsty?” He angles for his fridge.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” I’m far from it. I’m more nervous now than I ever have been in the dozens of dangerous situations I’ve faced in all my years on the force. Because in this situation, I’m walking into it knowing I’m a goner.
He pulls out a water jug.
“You finally have food,” I note. Shelves of fresh produce, yogurt, salads. The last time I was here, there was only a six-pack of beer.
“I’m getting a paycheck now.” He pours himself a glass. “And I swore, once I got out, I’d never eat anything that comes out of a can again.”
“Wow. You’re like a real grown-up.”
“I’m trying. Grew this beard and everything.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” I keep my expression even.
A slow smile stretches across his face. “Bullshit. You’ve been dying to say something all day.”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
He smooths his hand over his jaw. “I always wondered what I’d look like with one.”
“And?”
“I think I like it.” He pauses. “This guy in the cell next to me was obsessed with Chris Stapleton. You know, that singer?”
“Yeah, I know the one.”
“He wanted to be him, sang his songs out loud until other inmates would yell at him to shut up. Kind of looked like him too, based on what I saw of the guy on TV. He had this big beard that he had a medical exemption for. Got away with it until the guards caught him hiding benzos in it. The prison barber chopped it off, sending him into a deep depression.”
“Is this your way of telling me you plan on growing a big, hairy beard?”
He chuckles, touching his face again as if to confirm it’s still there. “Nah, I’ll take it off in the spring. I just wanted one better than Jack’s. It’s better than his, right?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“I could use one that isn’t from my mother.”
I laugh. “Fine, it suits you.” I add after a beat, “And it’s better than Jack’s.”
“I can’t wait to tell him.” Logan chugs half a glass of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the hard swallows.
I remember having my mouth on that very spot, along with so many other spots on that perfect body of his.
Heat rushes through my core. It’s impossible for me to be around him for any length of time without this yawning ache growing.
“So, you really think it was Robbie?”
“Huh?” I fix my ponytail while I quickly regain my composure. “I mean, he’s the most obvious person and the first one I’d talk to.”
Mischief twinkles in Logan’s eyes. “Come on, Em. Relax. It’s just me.”
“There’s never been anything ‘just’ about you.” And I guess some things don’t change, not even with so many years gone by. He’s always been able to read me like he has an Emery how-to manual.
“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that.” There’s a mixture of a plea and longing in his voice.
“Or what?” I don’t mean it to sound like a challenge.
He cocks his head, his eyebrow arching.
My heart starts racing. I’m acutely aware how close his bed is. “Isla’s game is about to start.” I duck past him and cut across the room to settle on the couch. “Let’s see if I can do this.” Isla taught me how to cast on our television at home, but each one is different.
“Sorry, I can’t help.” Logan drops onto the other side of the couch. “I keep locking myself out of my phone. I have to ask my twelve-year-old nephew to fix it for me. We can probably call Thomas.”
I fiddle with the settings until finally I manage to link it to my phone. The live stream to Isla’s game comes on just as she wins the first face-off.
“She really loves playing, doesn’t she,” Logan says.
“Yeah, she does.” I reach back to work at the knot in my neck. “It’s not as good as watching it live, but it’s better than not watching at all.”
“You’ve been doing that all day.”
“Hmm?”
He juts his chin toward my hand where it squeezes.
“I’m fine.”
A few beats pass and then he orders, “Come here.” Before I know what’s happening, Logan’s moving in to grip my hips and lift me over his lap, fitting me between his thighs. “Where is it … here?”
I stiffen instinctively as his fingertips prod. “Yeah, around there.”
Sweeping my hair over my other shoulder, he sets to work, kneading at my muscles with surprising skill.
My eyes close as I revel in the relief. I can’t recall the last time someone touched me like this and I didn’t pay for it. Dillon tried working out knots but often complained after a few minutes that his hands were sore.
A groan of contentment slips out of me. “I don’t remember you being good at this when we were together.”
“Yeah, I was too busy trying to get my hands under your shirt.”
I snort. “And you’re not now?”
“I didn’t say that.” He chuckles, his admission stirring my pulse. “I’ve just learned how to play the long game.”
“I’ll say.” I focus on his touch. “Seriously, how did you get so good at this?”
He hesitates. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but I had this cellmate. Bruce. We had a deal where, if he gave me half his dinner, I’d rub him down every night—”
My head snaps over my shoulder to meet his gaze.
Logan’s expression holds for one … two … three seconds before a wry smirk curves his lips. “I never had a cellmate. We were mostly singles.”
“Oh God, you’re making prison jokes.”
He juts his chin at the TV. “Stop distracting me. I’m trying to watch Isla’s game.”
I return to it, but I struggle to pay attention, my focus on Logan’s strong hands as they work slowly and methodically over my back, my shoulders, my arms, my neck.
As soothing as his ministrations are, I keep letting my mind wander to a place where his hands are sliding under my sweater, over my breasts, down the front of my leggings.
Until it’s all I can think about. By the time the second period is over and the teams skate off the ice to allow for a flood, my breathing is shallow.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“No,” I lie.
He laughs. “You want me to keep going?”
Yes. My lips part, but I can’t force the single word out because I know where it’ll lead.
“It’s just you and me in here, Em. No one else. We can be whatever you need us to be out there, but right here, right now, it’s just us.”
His words, delivered in a deep, raspy voice, are like an invitation—or maybe permission. I lean back against his chest and his arms envelop me, holding me tight.
“I still can’t believe you’re home,” I admit in a whisper, my hands settling on his forearms.
“Neither can I.” His nose grazes my cheek, lingering there as if waiting for me to make the next move while I relish the delicate scratch of his trim beard across my skin.
“What was it like?” I’ve often wondered, trying to picture the boy I knew within those concrete walls, surrounded by people who deserved to be locked up in there.
He sighs heavily. “It was … like being in a cage and not being able to track time. The first few years, I didn’t think I’d make it.
But then, I got into a routine. I did the same thing at the same time, every day, and that’s how I started telling time.
Day by day, that’s all I could process. And I made friends.
Not ones I’d ever make on the outside, but they were struggling through it, like me.
We got each other through the days.” His lips find my jawline.
“And thinking about you got me through the nights.”
Unable to resist any longer, I turn into him, capturing his mouth with mine in a slow, deep kiss that drags on and on, even as the sound of the whistle marking the start of the third period sounds on the TV.
I feel so utterly safe in his arms, which is ironic because there’s nothing safe about Logan—not for me.
He plies my lips open to slide his tongue in, and it seems to be the push I needed.
Slipping my arms through my sleeves, I peel away from his mouth long enough to pull my sweater over my head and toss it aside. I twist my body, climbing up to straddle his lap.
Heat blazes in his eyes as he admires the white lace bra I chose for tonight. With a quick flick of his fingertips, it’s unfastened and falling between us, the cool air and desire for Logan peaking my nipples.
“Fuck,” he curses, his hands sliding around to grip my ass, yanking me flush against him.
A sigh escapes me as I feel his hard length pressing against my center, the soft cotton material of our pants offering little in the form of a barrier. He curses again, this time in a hiss, as he leans in to collect a nipple in his mouth.
I pull him close, my arms curling around his head as I grind my hips against his body.
“Em.” Shallow pants graze my bare skin as he pulls away, peering up at me, his eyes pleading. “Please don’t do this if you’re gonna regret it in the morning. ’Cause the last time damn near killed me.”
“I won’t regret it.” I may pay for it down the road, but with each day that passes, I care less about how others will punish me for loving Logan and more about not wasting this second chance. “As long as you don’t push me away again.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” His hands cup my cheeks. “But I won’t let you suffer because of me. I know how important your career is and I don’t want to cause problems for you.”
“What problems? It’s just you and me here, remember?”
His lips find mine again and then it becomes a mad dash to remove the rest of our clothes, Logan yanking his T-shirt over his head and track pants down off his hips while I stand long enough to peel off my leggings.
Before he can get off the couch, I climb back on him, collecting his hard length in my hand, reveling in the velvety soft skin as I line him up against my slick core.
His head falls back against the couch, a deep, guttural groan escaping him before he remembers. “Wait, what about a condom?”
“We don’t need it today. The timing’s good,” I promise, my voice breathless as I sink down onto him.
Logan curses, his eyes burning with heat as he watches my body take him in. “I’ve never done this before. No condom, I mean.”
“That means I finally have one of your firsts,” I tease, rolling my pelvis as he slides deeper into me, his hips moving with mine.
He seizes the back of my head and pulls my mouth down to his, kissing me fervently as his fingers tangle within my hair.
“I’m sure I can still find a few more for you.
” His other hand lands on the small of my back, and he guides our tempo faster with quick, shallow thrusts that have my body responding with eagerness.
But that pace quickly changes as Logan seems to lose control, seizing my hips and delivering hard, penetrating thrusts that pull cries from my lips and send pressure traveling down my spine, igniting in my core.
I come apart with little warning, my body shuddering as pleasure rips through me in wave after wave.
With a deep guttural groan, Logan follows, his hips jerking as he releases deep inside me.
We end in a chorus of breathless pants, our bare skin glistening with sweat.
“Fuck. What was that?” I whisper, studying his handsome face between kisses as he comes down off his high, his eyes now hooded.
“That”—he collects my hand in his, pressing it against his chest so I can feel his heart pounding—“was the happiest moment of my whole goddamn life.”
I laugh. “So, I guess it’s all downhill from here then, huh?”
“No.” He punctuates it with a headshake. “Not a chance.”
“You sure?”
A sly grin curves his lips. “Let me prove it to you.”
I squeal as he flips me over.