They hadn’t spoken when he’d followed her into the house the night before. She’d tucked Eric into bed and had returned the pouch to the safe under his watchful eyes. Then, a few minutes later, a car had pulled in the drive—Minna. And Logan had simply disappeared. Again.
He was good at playing spy.
What he wasn’t good at was telling the truth. Why?
Later in the night when Logan left the club on an errand, Cass took over the bar while Blade brought Elise back to the security office. He sat down at the computer and brought up a search engine, then typed in “Logan Smith.”
The result was hundreds of references to home pages of people with that name.
“It’ll take all night to go through these,” Blade said.
“I doubt someone with something to hide has a personal home page,” Elise mumbled. “That’s not his name, anyway. Smith, ha! You would think he’d come up with something more creative. But the ‘Logan’ part might be right,” she said, thinking of how naturally he responded to it. “Try that and add ‘Chicago.’”
Blade typed in “Logan © Chicago” and they were hit with thousands of choices, beginning with references to the Logan Square neighborhood.
“How about adding ‘police,’” she suggested.
Blade did, and Elise’s throat constricted at the sight of the very first entry. An obituary. She read quickly, her eyes narrowing when she got to “Virginia ‘Ginny’ Fraser is survived by her brother, Chicago Detective John Logan…”
“This has to be him,” Elise said, her heart aching at the thought of Logan losing his sister so tragically.
What cemented her certainty was the way Ginny died—a car accident in the ravines of North Bluff. No wonder Logan had been so angry last night.
Further Internet searches told them Ginny Fraser had been an investigative reporter, and that Detective John Logan had resigned from the Chicago Police Department a mere month after her death.
“A cop gone undercover on his own?” Blade mused.
“His sister must have been investigating Kyle Mitchell,” Elise said, more to herself than to him. “That’s it. And Logan believes her death was another murder.”
So, why hadn’t he told her? Only one reason came to mind. He simply didn’t trust her.
Saddened, Elise went one step further. If Logan didn’t trust her after what he knew about her, he couldn’t return the feelings that had been tormenting her.
He didn’t love her the way she loved him.
Chapter Fifteen
“Killer dress,” Logan murmured into her hair as he clinked his champagne glass against hers on Saturday evening. He was standing close enough to make Elise’s heart ache.
The Harbor from the Storm fund-raiser in full swing, the North Bluff Yacht Club was overflowing with hundreds of wealthy, well-dressed socialites, many of whom were lining up to make their bids for the silent auction. On this warm evening, the doors to the docks were left open, so people spilled out of the spacious rooms. Inside, the incredible displays of flowers and candles lent a romantic glow to the proceedings.
Elise eyed his black tux and black silk shirt. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Her tone was cool, but at least she was speaking to him. Not that he’d thought any romance was coming his way after his stopping her from taking off with Eric.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you get away the other night,” he said softly. At least, part of him was.
“No, you’re not.” She stared straight into his eyes. “You have an agenda. Care to let me in on it?”
“This isn’t the right time—”
“It never is.”
Elise left his side and began talking to another woman at the bar, one of the official hostesses. He watched her hungrily, his gaze tracing every inch of her bare back—the dress just covered the scar from the bullet wound. He wanted in the worst way to touch the exposed flesh, to touch more intimate flesh that would be exposed to his eyes only….
What the hell was he doing, torturing himself? Logan wondered. He knew a no-win situation when he saw one. She was going to make another run at the first opportunity, and for all he knew, she would make it next time and he would never see her again.
A dismal thought.
Dinner was a laborious affair—it seemed to drag on all night. Course after course, speech after speech, announcement after announcement, until every auction item’s fate was sealed. The only thing that made it all tolerable was that he was close to Elise, at least for a little while longer.
When the band struck up, he was relieved. And he saw an opportunity to take Elise in his arms once more, even if it was on a dance floor, even if it was in public. He took advantage, pulled her in close, opened his hand at the small of her back. The flesh there singed his fingers, but he only wanted more.
He drew her even closer and whispered, “Loosen up. We’re supposed to be newlyweds, remember?”
She flashed him a radiant and totally false smile. “But it’s all an act. Everything has been an act.”
“Not everything.” He let go of her hand to stroke the side of her cheek. She was so beautiful, and for one night she had been his in every way possible. “Not us.”
Elise laughed. “Not us? Is that why you’ve been so up-front with me—” she lowered her voice to finish “—Detective John Logan?”
Logan stiffened and twirled Elise away from the other dancers to the far end of the room. He tried to make it look effortless, sensual, when in fact she had him on the defensive. He backed her into a corner where he moved in tight, flattening a hand against the wall above her head. To anyone watching, they would look like they were sharing an intimate moment, and others would be inclined to keep their distance.
“How?” he asked, his breath ruffling the fine hairs around her face.
Her gaze locked with his, she mumbled, “Internet.”
“So you know about my sister?”
“You mean her investigating Kyle?”
Logan sighed and rubbed his lips against her cheek. “All right. She was investigating his connection to Harbor from the Storm.”
“What about it?” she asked on a quick intake of breath.
“Where do you think the Cayman Islands funds came from?”
Her eyes widened. He was so close he could see the edges of the green contacts swimming in them. If only he could see her without the artifice, without the disguise. He wanted to get to know the real woman, didn’t want her to have to be on guard all the time—like those few moments they’d had together when she’d frolicked barefoot in the freezing tidewaters of Lake Michigan. He’d fallen for her like a rock right then.
“You’re sure the Cayman Islands account and Harbor from the Storm are connected?” Elise asked. And when he nodded, she murmured, “Diane’s pet charity—she knows?”
“Maybe not.” He brushed his lips at the corner of her mouth. And when she sighed, he was tempted to take further advantage. But he had to convince her of how close they were to the truth. He had to give her a reason to stick around and see this thing through. Maybe then they would have a shot at a life…at something…together.
He went on. “I’ve been doing some digging about Mitchell’s campaign funds. Guess who is his biggest contributor.” When she shrugged, he said, “Rafe Otera.”
“Otera! A moneyman? Carol told me he wouldn’t be good enough for the family and acted like no one knew about him.”
“Maybe she’s fooling herself. Maybe her own brother is using her.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Elise said.
“Anyway, Ginny was trying to sort out the players when she had that terrible accident. Only, I don’t think it was an accident. I believe she was run off the road.”
“Was there any proof?”
He shook his head. “I looked too late. And no one else had reason to look before me. That stretch in the ravines is treacherous.” The same stretch she’d taken so recklessly the other night.
&n
bsp; Her eyes grew watery, and he sensed her empathy. She knew what it was to lose someone she loved.
“I’m really sorry about Ginny, Logan.”
She touched the side of his face. He caught her hand and kissed her palm. And for one moment, he believed it could happen. That he could make her stay and they would get justice for the people they’d lost and they could live happily ever after.
He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t care if they were in a crowded room at some froufrou social affair. He didn’t care if every eye in the room was trained on them. He couldn’t stand not kissing her, so he did.
He nudged her mouth open and gave her a long, wet kiss that told her exactly how much he wanted her. She didn’t try to stop him. He felt her melt. And respond. And he thought it was a good thing they were in public or that killer dress of hers would be history.
Feeling her pressing gently against his chest, he backed off a little. Her features had softened but he could see that she was trying to regain her composure.
She licked her lips and asked, “So you resigned from the police department…why?”
“I wanted to start my own investigation and I couldn’t do what I needed to as a cop.”
“What is it you need to do, Logan? Get revenge? That won’t get you anywhere but a jail cell, and believe me, that’s not where you want to be!”
“It would be better than running.”
At his reminder of the other night, she went rigid and cold on him. Pushing him away with both hands, she said, “I need to powder my nose,” and stalked away through the crowd toward the ladies’ rest room.
Leaving Logan staring after her like some lovesick kid. He cursed himself for not telling her the truth before she found out for herself.
Lovesick…
Yeah, he loved her, all right, and he would do anything to keep her safe.
Not that she would ever believe him now.
THE HOSTESSES WERE STANDING near the door in a knot, chatting about the successful evening, when Elise came by, looking for a way out.
“Such passion between you and your husband,” Binny told her. “You’re a lucky woman, Nicole.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one here in love,” Elise said, raising her eyebrows.
“Love and passion are two different things,” Kat told her. “You two were practically sparking on the dance floor. And then when you went over into that corner…!”
“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had just disappeared,” Minna added.
Elise shifted uneasily at the thought of the hostesses watching her every move. She had to figure another way out of the place.
“Maybe you ought to consider a second honeymoon,” Minna drawled, sidling off.
Great, if she couldn’t go out the front door, Elise thought, she’d have to get out via one of the dock doors and walk around the building to the parking lot. She’d made certain to bring the extra keys for Logan’s car. If he realized she—and it—were missing, he wouldn’t dare make a fuss, lest he call attention to himself.
Unfortunately, he’d have plenty of attention soon enough. She expected his identity would be revealed. And then he could use data he’d collected on Kyle Mitchell to shut the man down.
Not the same as nailing him on a murder charge, she thought, spotting Kyle glad-handing a man she knew had more money than God. Logan wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d nailed Kyle. Part of her wanted to be there for the celebration…but she’d made plans, had involved her mother in what amounted to a kidnapping. There was no turning back.
Though he was talking to some cronies, Kyle seemed to sense she was glaring at him, for he turned to meet her gaze.
Ducking her head, Elise moved off. Her heart was pounding as she made her way to one of the dock doors, every step of the way half expecting to be stopped. Framed by the doorway, she glanced back to look for Logan, but the crowd had swallowed him.
She whipped out of the door and around the corner and was halfway along the walkway before she was stopped again. Ahead, beneath a set of stairs to the second floor, Carol was entertaining a man. Rafe Otera. His hands were all over her and he seemed ready to take her, right here in public. Already on her way to being drunk, Carol wasn’t even fighting him.
Why was Otera here? To collect funds from the auction?
Had Brian found out about his involvement…?
Pulse accelerating, Elise stepped back in to the shadows. She couldn’t deal with that now. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t catch Brian’s killer and bring him to justice. Her little boy was waiting for her. Her mother had put herself on the line. She had to get to them.
So what now? Was there another way of making it to the parking lot without being seen?
Looking back the way she had come, another idea struck her.
She strolled back toward the docks and away from the building. Passing the yachts, she got to the slip where the smaller speedboats were tied up. It took her only a minute to find one with the keys still in the ignition.
An honest person, Elise told herself borrowing the boat was justified. Nothing would happen to it, and the owner would get it back in the morning. She removed her shoes and tossed them down to a cushioned seat before untying the boat and stepping into it. Praying no one would notice the noise over the din of music and voices coming from the yacht club, she started the engine and headed the boat away from the slip.
Her heart in her throat, Elise made for the mouth of the harbor and then Mitchell House. Only when she hit open water did she accelerate.
She glanced back once, but no one seemed to have put out an alert. The party went on without her.
As would Logan.
Traveling by water took longer than it would have by car. And by the time Mitchell House came into view, her nerves were on edge.
Was anyone—Logan?—looking for her at the party?
Elise cut the engine and simply steered the boat into the slip. She let herself into the boathouse, where she’d left a small bag with traveling clothes and a flashlight. After quickly changing, she breached the tunnel and hurried toward the house. Caution made her wait a moment at the top of the stairs, ear to the hall door. Not a sound. Still, she waited before turning the knob and opening the door a crack. Soft golden light spilled from the foyer and from the kitchen.
All as it should be.
Elise slipped out from behind the door and headed down the hall to the study. Once inside, she felt her nerves steady. Just a few more minutes and she would be on her way to join her mother and son and start a new life.
A life without Logan.
Pushing the unsettling thought away, she rushed to the office and swung the painting from the wall. Her hands trembled, but the safe fought her and wouldn’t open.
Calm down, you got the numbers wrong, she thought.
But when it didn’t open the second or the third time, she knew Kyle had changed the combination. So he had recognized her, left her the newspaper clippings, chased her through the ravine….
Logan had suspected Kyle rather than Diane all along, and this pretty much cinched it.
What was she going to do now without money? A few hundred dollars wasn’t going to get them far.
A creak behind her warned Elise she wasn’t alone.
“Disappointed?”
She spun around and backed into the wall. “Kyle—!” She choked on his name—he was holding a gun on her.
“The only question is…why didn’t you take what you wanted the first time?”
Elise swallowed hard and stared at the gun. Did he mean to kill her as he had killed a nosy reporter? As he’d killed his own brother? Bile shot into her throat, her head felt light and her pulse thundered so loudly the sound filled her ears.
“H-how did you know?”
The least she could do was make him talk. The transmitter would pick up every word they said, and whether she died or got away somehow, Logan would have his proof that Kyle had killed his sister Ginny as well
as Brian. She only prayed Logan would then save her child.
“You left evidence behind,” Kyle told her. “The copier.”
Elise blinked and took a calming breath. “Proof that you were siphoning funds into a Cayman Islands account.”
“Proof of the account, yes. But even if that information came to light, no one will know where the funds came from or what’s happening to them.”
Feeling steadier now, she went on the offensive. “How can you live with yourself, using your wife’s pet charity to raise money you put in your own pocket?”
“I live very well knowing my campaign coffers are healthier than they’ve ever been. I won’t have any problem buying all the airtime I need to win the gubernatorial race.”
“How does that work, exactly?” she asked, doing her best to draw him out. She remembered what Logan had told her about Kyle’s biggest contributor. “You siphon funds from Harbor from the Storm, then transfer them back to your buddy Rafe Otera so he can make major campaign contributions?”
“So you know about Otera.” Kyle gazed at her steadily.
Why had she never realized how dead he was inside? He was nothing like Brian. Nothing shone through those eyes—nothing that made him human.
“You know too much,” he went on. “I’ll have to introduce you to Rafe Otera. He’s an expert at cleaning up messes. He’ll know what to do with you.”
It was then that she sensed they weren’t alone. Something…a shadow that moved in the hallway behind him…convinced her someone was listening to every word.
“Cleaning up messes,” she echoed, somehow knowing that Logan had come to her rescue. Anyone else in this household would have made herself known. “Like Otera did with Ginny Fraser?”
Kyle frowned at her. “Enough talking. Time to do some walking to the tunnel. And hurry.”
“You had Ginny killed, didn’t you,” she said in a last-ditch effort to make him admit the truth on tape. “And your own brother Brian. Killing me won’t do you any good. I’m not the only one who knows. You’re under investigation—”
Fake I.D. Wife Page 18
