Chapter 6
six
. . .
Logan
I wake before the sun rises, and it’s already the longest day I’ve ever lived. The last thing I want to do is take Sophie to work, but she won’t be alone there. I need to protect her, but I also have a town to keep safe. The weight of that responsibility sits heavy in my chest as I get dressed.
Later, I sit at the booth in the back corner.
Best sightline to the door and to Sophie behind the counter.
The vinyl is sticky in the spring damp. I haven’t sat in a booth since the day Gideon brought me Sarah’s compass last month.
I haven’t wanted to, plus the counter is closer to where Sophie works and I’ve grown used to watching her from there.
Sophie clocks me the second she comes out of the kitchen. Her gaze meets mine before she looks away, but her shoulders rise.
Roz brings me a coffee I didn’t order. “You’re not at the counter.”
“Nope.” I take a sip. Scalding. I reach for the glass of water.
“Eli’s been in here four times since you sat down.”
“Three,” I correct.
“Four.” She sets a plate of eggs in front of me. “On the house. Don’t argue with me about it.”
I don’t argue and dig in. I need to be rested and not hungry if I’m going to stay sharp.
Mrs. Callahan stares at me from the next booth. She’s seventy-one, and her face switches between worry and approval. Then she returns to her cinnamon roll without saying a word. The whole town seems to be watching us today.
The rental car passes by the front window heading west. I grip my fork so hard my knuckles turn white.
Sophie doesn’t flinch. Her hand stays steady on the coffee pot. But her shoulders rise another inch, maybe two. I hate that she has to hide her fear like this.
Eli comes in for another refill. He doesn’t look at me. He sits at the counter for ninety seconds. Then he returns to his store and drinks the rest of the coffee standing in his doorway where he can see Roz’s front door. The Wilde men are circling, and I don’t blame them one bit.
Two county units provide drive-bys. I force myself to work my regular morning patrol, even though it’s killing me to leave Sophie. But I can’t tip off Volkov. Patience is the only play right now.
Reeves calls to let me know the judge has a case so can’t sign the warrant until this afternoon. I nearly hurt my hand pounding on my steering wheel at the delay. But I need to be patient and not react. One wrong move could push Volkov to do something desperate.
I pass the rental car parked on Aspen at ten-thirty and Birch at noon. It’s gone by two.
Volkov hasn’t moved on Sophie. He wouldn’t do that at a public diner full of people. My guess is he’ll wait for darkness. Maybe even a stretch of road when not many are out, which is usually the case in Lush Hollow. But I won’t give him that opportunity.
I sit outside the diner at three. Sophie comes out of the back door with her apron still on. She climbs into the cruiser without a word, takes off the apron, and folds it on her lap.
“I made you something,” she says. “Roz will bring it over later.”
“What is it?”
She looks at me sideways. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise. I promise you won’t die waiting.”
Sophie blinks once as if she realized what she said.
“No one will die of anything.” I don’t want her to stress. “Reeves will have the warrant this afternoon. The stop will be done by tomorrow morning. Then we eat breakfast like normal people.”
“I’ve never eaten breakfast like a normal person.”
“Then it’s time.”
She smiles. Almost.
The rental car passes us going east on the bridge before the turn onto my road. It doesn’t slow and the driver doesn’t glance over his shoulder.
Sophie sees the car. She stares out the front windshield, but her hands ball on her lap. “He wants me to know he saw me get in your cruiser.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel one quarter turn. “He’s going to be very disappointed in what’s coming.”
I don’t slow down or glance in the rearview. I drive us home.
Sophie takes off her coat when we come inside and hangs it on a hook by the door.
She crosses to the kitchen, washes her hands, pulls a knife out of my block, picks up an onion, and dices it with the speed and economy of a woman who has worked a four-station bar at last call for years.
Her wrist is locked, letting the blade do the work.
I’ve never had a woman in this kitchen. I file that away, warmth settling in the center of my chest.
I remove meat from the fridge. Move past her at the counter.
The rushing river roars through the back door. The wind blows off the ridge. The cold seeps in around the seal of the door like it always does.
Sophie slides the onions into the pan I set beside her. Her shoulder brushes my arm when she leans for the salt. She doesn’t move. Neither do I.
The onions hiss.
She picks up the knife and minces the garlic. Her rhythm stays the same, and my chest tightens. I like her in my kitchen more than I should admit, and I let her cook.
As I grill the meat, Roz brings over a drink Sophie made me and stays for ten minutes. The second she drives away trucks rumble up the driveway. Two engines, on the gravel at the same time. Jesse’s diesel I know by sound. The second one belongs to Mason.
Sophie’s chopping slows, but she doesn’t stop. “You called them?”
“No.”
“Eli then.”
“Probably.”
She wipes her hand on a towel. “He’s been refilling his coffee all day when he has a pot at the store. Guess it’s time to tell them what’s going on.”
The trucks park behind the cruiser. I open the front door before they reach the porch because I’m not making the Wildes knock when Sophie is inside and in danger.
Jesse has his hands in his jacket pockets. Mason follows behind him, his jaw set. Eli’s at the back, eyeing the tree line.
“Sophie here?” Jesse asks.
“In the kitchen.”
Jesse and Mason walk past me. Eli stops on the porch.
“I told them,” Eli says, not apologetic. “I don’t know what’s happening, but something’s going on.”
I know her family loves her, but they won’t want to sit on the sidelines and let me handle this. “Sophie won’t like that.”
“She’ll get over it.” Eli comes inside.
Sophie stands at the counter with the kitchen knife in her hand and her three favorite Wilde men in a half-circle around her. Mason has his arms crossed. Jesse has pulled his hands from his pockets, and they’re fisted at his sides.
“You drove all the way here for an onion?” she says.
Jesse sits on a stool. “Soph, please, talk to us.”
Nora must be a good influence because before her Jesse would have been cussing and demanding answers. Maybe love can soften even the hardest of men.
Sophie sets the knife down and looks at me. I don’t say anything. This is her story to tell.
She tells them a short version about the bar on Capitol Hill, the alley, and the third man. The calls that started six weeks after she came home. The photo at the back door of the diner. The second photo on my porch. The warrant Reeves is getting signed.
She doesn’t go into shooting. I don’t blame her for leaving that part out. “So here we are.”
Mason hasn’t moved. Not even sure he’s blinked. “You kept all of this from us for… years?”
Sophie crosses her arms. The two have never looked more alike. “I was scared.”
“Fuck.” Jesse scrubs his face. “That’s why you have us, so you don’t have to be scared.”
Mason puts a hand at the back of his neck and looks at the ceiling. “I need a minute.”
He goes out the back door. He doesn’t slam it. Mason Wilde doesn’t slam doors.
Jesse stays. “Nora…”
“It’s okay if you tell her. I know you don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“I will, but not tonight. She’s due in two weeks, and I don’t want her to worry.”
“I understand,” she says. “I don’t want anything to hurt Nora and the baby.”
Jesse looks at me. “Is she sleeping here tonight?”
I nod. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“I’m staying tonight,” Eli says. “Couch works.”
I shake my head. “Unnecessary. Two county units have been called in to do rotations. You being here is a third body in this house. If you’re at the store with the lights on and your truck visible, that’s two more eyes I have in town.
Go home. Watch the front of Main. And Jesse, make sure Nora goes nowhere alone. ”
Eli looks at me, then at Sophie and nods once.
Mason returns, and his expression is different from five minutes ago. He stops three feet away. “You hurt her again, King, and I’ll bury you on the ridge.”
“If that happens, you can use my shovel.”
Mason’s lips thin. “And if anything happens to her…”
Sophie sighs. “I’m right here, guys.”
“This is between me and King,” Mason says. “If that asshole touches my sister…”
My chest juts forward. “Not happening on my watch.”
Mason picks up the knife Sophie set on the counter, turns it over once, and puts it back in place. “Sunday dinner, Soph.”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Be there, or I’ll drag your sorry ass there myself.” He gives her a one-armed hug, and both appear uncomfortable, but I get the feeling the two need more hugs.
Jesse rubs his palms on his thighs, then stands. “You need more backup I can call the others.”
The others mean the men who live on the Ridge, ex-military and Special Forces guys who’d probably love taking someone like Volkov apart limb by limb. “I know. And I won’t hesitate to let you know if I need more hands.”
Jesse and Mason exchange a glance. Jesse kisses Sophie’s cheek. “Be careful.”
Then the two Wilde brothers head out.
Eli stops at the door. “Take care of her. She won’t ask for what she needs but be patient with her. Have a feeling she needs a lot of that right now.”
“I’ve got her.” God, I’d give Sophie Wilde whatever she needs, even the moon if she asked me. I only hope she wants my heart. Because it already belongs to her.
The door closes behind Eli. The house goes quiet.
Sophie hasn’t moved from the counter. She holds the spatula, but the pan is too hot. The onions are charring. I reach past her and turn off the stove eye.
Her lower lip quivers. “I should’ve told them when I came back.”
“You weren’t ready.”
“I should’ve been.”
“Sophie…”
She closes her eyes. She doesn’t cry, but her shoulders drop.
I don’t touch her. I want to, but I don’t.
Sophie has carried what happened in Seattle alone and tonight the three men who love and adore her learned her secret. She doesn’t seem to know what to do now that she’s not the only one who knows.
Eyes open, she picks up the drink she made me. “If I drank, I’d chug this.”
“Doubt that’s how it’s supposed to be drunk.”
“It’s not.” She hands me the glass. “Try it.”
As I take a sip and savor the flavors, Sophie watches me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Bourbon. Maple. A little smoke. The thyme is fresh from Roz’s planter.”
“It’s good.”
That earns me a genuine smile. One won’t be enough. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she repeats. “Not sure I could handle Jesse, Mason, and Eli wanting to be my bodyguards, even though I love them.”
I take the spatula out of her hand. Get the onions going in a fresh pan. “The Wilde men are strong and capable, but they aren’t…”
“What?”
I wink. “Me.”
Sophie smiles a little wider this time, which gives me hope that I’ll not only keep her safe, but salvage today for her.