by Joya Fields
She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “I can’t divulge any more information at this point—probably shouldn’t have told you this much. But I know you’re worried about Ben.”
“I appreciate all this, Logan.”
He checked his watch. “I have to go.” He cast a quick glance at her dad’s room, then looked back at her. “I don’t like this. I haven’t seen his house in person yet, but Dunnigan let me see the photos. I don’t think this was a random robbery. Might be the thugs were after just one thing, Ben’s briefcase.”
But why? What could make a pastor’s briefcase so important? And what could possibly be important enough to beat up an old man?
Chapter Four
A sliver of pink-hued morning sunlight arrowed across the hospital room as Keely strode in quietly with a cup of coffee in her hand. She’d spent the night in a chair and had gone out for a quick walk to get the kinks out, and to find some breakfast. To wait for Logan. If her father woke up, she’d go with Logan to check out the house. See if she could find anything out of place. But until her dad woke up, she’d stay at the hospital.
When she saw Logan standing next to her dad’s hospital bed, his gaze focused on Ben, eyes soft and caring, she came to a halt. Spotting her in the doorway, he straightened and put on his game face, guarding his emotions. So what else was new?
“How’d he sleep?” he whispered.
She nodded, giving him a thumbs-up to keep from making too much noise. She studied the dark circles below his eyes. He had worked through the night and needed sleep, yet he’d stopped by the hospital to check on her dad. This was the Logan she remembered from her childhood. The boy who’d cared. Not the nineteen-year-old who’d run from her.
He closed the distance between them, standing near, his broad shoulders and leather jacket so close she wanted to run away instead of being tempted by something she could never have.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Keels,” he said, his tone somber. “I’m moving soon. Headed out to Texas for a new job. Head of security for a big corporation.”
Hurt slammed through every cell of her body and landed in a big knot in the pit of her stomach. So this was it. He was leaving again. Like before.
His gaze searched hers, looking for…what? Happiness? Regret?
“Good luck with that. Congratulations,” she managed to get out. It was better this way, anyway. Her body might yearn for Logan, but she was smarter than that.
He reached forward with both hands, and for a split second she thought he would pull her in for a hug. Instead, he clutched her upper arms gently, his warmth seeping through her shirt and into the marrow of her bones.
“But I’m not leaving until I help Dunnigan find out who did this to Ben.”
Part of her wanted to tell him to hit the road now. But she couldn’t turn away a cop’s help. Not when they had the same goal. “I appreciate that. Your badge can open more doors while we investigate this than my social worker ID.”
He rocked away from her, dropping his hands from her arms. “We? There’s no we here, Keely. I’ll keep you updated, but you won’t be involved in the investigation.”
She opened her mouth to object, then clamped her jaw shut. She didn’t need his permission. The neighbors knew her. Somebody might have seen the attackers running away. She’d do what she could to find out who did this to her dad.
Her father stirred, moaned low in his throat. The sound had her and Logan striding to opposite sides of his bed. Ben blinked, and looked first at Logan, then to her. He smiled, which must have been difficult since his lips were badly chapped and swollen, but the smile went all the way to his dark brown eyes.
“Two of my…favorite people.” Her dad had to stop midsentence to catch his breath, wincing in pain.
She bit her bottom lip to hold back her emotions. Anger at the people who hurt him burned in her gut. But color had returned to his face and he looked more like himself. Relief flooded through her. He’d be okay.
Ben looked around the hospital room. “What happened to me?” he asked.
“Two guys assaulted you in your house. Do you remember anything about the attack?”
He thought for a second, then closed his eyes. “Last I remember I was opening my front door after coming home from the airport. Somebody pushed me inside, but I couldn’t tell who. They tried to yank away my briefcase, then… Wait.” His eyes flashed open. “What happened to Su Lin?”
Keely sighed. Damn. She’d been hoping he’d be able to identify or at least describe his attackers.
“The police are trying to find her,” she said, reassuringly. “She never got on the flight in LA.”
Ben shifted in the hospital bed. “Why wouldn’t she? She seemed so determined, so set on coming here to make a new life.”
“What I don’t understand is why you were home at three. I thought that’s when her plane was coming in.”
“The first flight was canceled, so I’d changed the reservation for her. She was supposed to get into the airport at one in the afternoon. I waited for ninety minutes, then gave up and came home. Walked right into a hornet’s nest, apparently.” He looked at the IV in his arm, at the monitors beeping by his bed. “What did they want? Why attack me?”
Logan leaned forward. “They seemed to be after your briefcase. Would you know why?”
“No reason that I can think of,” her father said. “It’s not worth anything.”
“I’m taking Keely to your house, sir,” Logan said. “I need to determine if anything else is missing.” He placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “One thing might help us. Could you tell me what was in your briefcase?”
Ben’s forehead creased. “Just some things for Su Lin. She’s an American citizen, but she doesn’t speak much English. Her parents speak none. Loving Arms had made a welcome packet in Thai. Other than that, there was a gift certificate for a local maternity store, but nothing of value, really.”
“Our department checked Su Lin out, sir,” Logan said. “Her parents kicked her out when she got pregnant at eighteen. That’s why she contacted you? Loving Arms was helping her with an adoption?”
Ben shifted in his bed. “Maybe her parents took her back. Maybe she changed her mind about giving up the baby for adoption. But we would have helped her through her pregnancy either way.”
Keely’s gut clenched. “It happens all the time, Dad.” She knew how women swayed back and forth on the decision about whether to give a baby up for adoption or keep it. Especially young, unwed women. The choice was never easy.
Logan turned to her. “We need to head out. The city can’t afford to post a uniform at the door, but I want to alert security to keep an eye on your dad’s room.” He awkwardly patted Ben on the shoulder, then left the room, allowing her time alone with her dad.
She held her dad’s hand in both of hers, careful to apply only gentle pressure. His leathery hands, work-hardened from years of tending the garden, peeling vegetables for meals for homeless people, and helping others, squeezed hers back.
“You know…” Ben paused to catch his breath. “I’ve always liked Logan.”
So had she. That was the problem.
…
Logan parallel parked his SUV in front of Ben’s row house. The ten-minute drive had proved torturous to his senses. He’d been thinking about Ben’s attack and the possible motives. At least it kept his mind off knowing Keely was near enough to touch.
“Thanks for the ride.” She slid out of the vehicle a split second after he killed the engine. The door slammed.
Ahh. Just what he’d been waiting for. She’d finally remembered to be angry with him. Good. Even if he had to take the brunt of her emotion, at least she was letting it out.
He jogged along the sidewalk to catch up, then waited while she dug in her jeans pocket for the house key. After quickly glancing at Mrs. Beyer’s marble steps to the right of Ben’s, she opened the front door.
Inside, she flicked on a light in the entryway.
Ben’s house was like most other row homes and included a small vestibule followed by another locked door that led to the main floor of the house. The only sunlight in the middle row unit came from either the front or the back of the house and a solar light panel in the second-floor ceiling.
She maneuvered the key in the lock of the second door and then hesitated.
“Want me to—” If he went in first, it might save her from reliving what she’d seen here yesterday. She shouldn’t have to experience the shock and fear again of seeing Ben injured.
“No, I’ve got it.”
Relief eased its way into his joints to see her spirited personality returning.
She turned the key and stepped into the foyer, then froze when she faced the mess.
He stood beside her as her gaze passed over the rumpled carpet and the turned-over dining room chairs. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Atta girl.
She stepped across scattered broken glass and picked up two framed photos. One of Ben and Lillian, which she brushed off and placed on a side table, and one with a crack down the center of her with some geek in a tuxedo. She turned the photo and frame face down on the table and brushed black fingerprint dust off her hands.
“I can call a crime scene cleaning service,” he offered.
“No. I’ll do it myself.”
“At least let me help. I do know how to use a vacuum.”
“I said no,” she snapped.
He let it drop. He thought she might check the area in the family room—the site of the beating, but instead she turned to face him.
“I have to be at work in an hour—couldn’t take the whole day off—so we may as well get one thing out of the way.” She crossed her arms, drawing attention to the way her full breasts rose and fell.
Her temper. He’d missed it. Her temper was a bit adorable, unlike his—which was the type that hurt people. Hers was a productive sort of temper. She got mad at injustice and sprang into action. He’d missed it while he was in Afghanistan fighting in the fields, missed it when he was away at the police academy.
Missed it painfully when he’d walked out of her life.
But he’d had no choice, had he?
He could pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. Play stupid. But why bother? He knew what she wanted to discuss. Time to face what he’d done so they could put it behind them and move on.
Crap.
He grabbed one of the toppled dining room chairs, set it back upright, and straddled it. “Okay,” he said, meeting her gaze. She’d dressed casually today, in jeans and a faded rock band T-shirt with a denim jacket. The jeans hugged her hips in a way no hot-blooded man should have to endure without a cold shower nearby. She wore her hair down, and tucked a long brown strand behind her ear before narrowing her eyes to glare at him, making him yearn to reach out and stroke her cheek.
She closed those gorgeous blue eyes for a long second and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she focused her sharp gaze directly on him. Pimps, drug dealers, and murderers stared him down on a daily basis, but nobody could shake him to the core like Keely. The only trick would be keeping her from realizing it. For her own good. But he’d gotten very good at keeping things from her.
“I thought…I thought we were important to each other back then.”
Her words came out a whisper, stabbing him softly. He clenched his hands into fists. He couldn’t lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, either. Not without hurting her even more than he already had.
She straightened her shoulders. “Why did you lead me to think I meant something to you and then leave me without even saying goodbye? Do you know how I felt, knowing you’d been arrested for fighting, and then learning you’d left for the Marines as soon as the police released you?”
You’re wrong for her, Keely’s mother Lillian had told him at the police station the night he’d been arrested. He’d called Ben to pick him up when the charges were dropped, but Lillian had shown up, instead. He’d been a messed up, angry kid, and he’d believed Lillian when she said Keely deserved better. Which was why Lillian had ordered him to disappear from Keely’s life. And he had.
He wouldn’t tell Keely now. Why tarnish her memories of her mother? Besides, he’d agreed with Lillian. Probably would have come up with the idea on his own, eventually. The arrest and Lillian’s pressure had only made it easier.
“Yeah, just as I thought,” Keely muttered. “You had no good reason. When I reached out with an olive branch three years ago, why didn’t you return any of my calls?”
“I had to work. Criminals don’t take time off.” He shifted in the chair. Was this what it felt like to be interrogated? He sat ramrod straight, his muscles tense. All he needed was a hot lamp in his face and a good cop and bad cop across from him. On second thought, Keely seemed to be doing fine in the bad cop role.
She moved her hands to her hips and took a few steps toward him, then tripped on a discarded book. He shot out of the chair and caught her by the waist as her arms flailed. Her hair swung forward over her shoulders and her mouth was suddenly close enough to kiss. A few more inches, and he’d be able to taste her sweetness, relive the feel of her lips. He swallowed. She probably had no idea how beautiful she looked. And how he longed to touch her.
Her wide-eyed gaze searched his, then she blinked. “I can stand on my own.”
Reluctantly, he let go, returning to the chair to put distance between them again.
Her eyes shone, but he knew she would never cry in front of him. Guilt had him wondering how many times his actions had sent her to her room to cry alone.
She ran a hand over her chin. He wanted to cup that chin and brush his lips against hers. This was why he’d stayed away so long. How could he possibly spend time with her and not touch her? Maybe it didn’t matter. He’d be leaving soon and the temptation to be with her would be gone. But the memories that haunted him would never leave.
…
“Fine. Keep your reasons to yourself.” Keely drew a deep breath and backed up to lean against the faded wallpapered dining room wall. She shouldn’t have started this conversation. Getting Logan to open up to her—or anyone—took energy. Energy she needed for finding out who attacked her dad.
She’d been too weak to do anything more than call Logan three years ago. But when she’d arrived at her dad’s just as Logan’s car was leaving, it made her miss what they’d once had. When her call had gone unreturned, she figured she’d gotten her answer. He’d left her all those years ago because he hadn’t cared.
He rose now and moved the chair to its proper place under the dining room table. He took half a step and bent to pick up a framed picture from the rug.
She didn’t need to see the front of it to know which photo he held. Her mom had taken it in the backyard. A close-up of Keely and her dad, their faces red from the cold, snowflakes fluttering around them, and huge grins on their faces because they’d built a kick-ass snowman.
Logan picked out the broken glass shards one by one, carefully placing them on the table, then stared at the photo before gently placing it on the shelf where it belonged. “Ben told me this is one of his favorite pictures.” He smiled, his face soft and unguarded.
The wall surrounding her heart cracked a little. Whatever pain that had caused a rift between her and Logan all those years ago didn’t matter now. This was a man who could help figure out who’d hurt her dad, and why. And who could stop the threat from happening again.
Time to let the past stay in the past and move on.
“Look, I know you’re good at what you do. But…” She had to be sure he understood the parameters, had to be clear about what this meant. “That’s it. We can work together to find his attacker. Our relationship stays strictly professional.”
“I—”
“And I’m going to be part of the investigation.”
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Really?” she continued on
in a rush. “You’re going to give me that look when you know I can be helpful?” She took a step toward him and raised her palm. “I know the church members. I know his friends. I’m familiar with the neighborhood. This is still my community, even more than it is yours. You need me and you know it.” She didn’t care if it was childish. She jabbed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes right back at him.
He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “No. Too dangerous. I’ll handle it.” He adjusted his posture, standing tall and spreading his feet apart. His cop stance. Sexy as hell.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re going to walk around this room to look for anything out of place. But that’s as far as your investigative work goes.” He pulled out his cell phone and started to take pictures of the scene.
She relaxed her hands. Hadn’t even known they’d been clenched. Fine. She glanced around. Broken photos and various knickknacks lay scattered on the hardwood floor. Shivers ran down her spine at the thought of strangers touching her dad’s belongings.
She noticed something. Ben’s prized baseball card collection—worth thousands of dollars—sat on top of the sideboard.
She crossed the room. She peered inside a drawer and glanced up. “My mom’s good silver is still here.”
“Don’t touch anything else,” Logan said. “Stand back for a minute.”
Bossy much? She did so and faced him. “But on the way over you said Dunnigan told you the police cleared the scene.”
“I know. I want you to look at something.” He pointed. “The top two sideboard drawers have been pulled out, but the bottom two are closed.”
She glanced at the drawers. “What does that mean? Mrs. Beyer interrupted them when they were in the middle of searching?”
“Professional thieves open drawers from bottom to top so they don’t waste time closing them. There’s only a surface mess in here.”
Keely frowned.
