by Joya Fields
Keely put her hands on her hips. “Dad, just because you’re the pastor doesn’t mean you can’t let others help run the church for a while. You can’t possibly be thinking about writing a sermon. I’m sure Dave would be happy to do it. He’s done it before when you’ve been away.”
“I’m happy to pinch hit. Up to Ben, though,” Dave said, then looked at his watch. “I have a youth game to coach at the church in about an hour, but I’ll stop back after.”
“I’m fine,” Ben insisted.
“No arguments,” Dave said, laying a hand on Ben’s shoulder before turning to leave.
Her father frowned, then shuffled down the narrow hall to the kitchen and sat at his kitchen table, Margaret following.
Keely glanced around the room. Neat and clean. She’d spent hours last night tidying the place. Logan had offered help, but she’d declined. Sure, he’d proven he cared about her dad. And without him over these last forty-eight hours, she would have been lost. But she pushed those warm feelings aside. She would take his help in figuring out who had hurt her dad, but that was as far as she wanted to let him into her life.
She followed her father into the kitchen. There, the only traces of the crime were a dent in one of the mahogany cabinets and a small hole in the kitchen plaster where the attackers had slammed the door so hard the doorknob hit the wall.
“Hand me that pad of paper and a pen, will you?” Ben asked, propping his feet up on a kitchen chair.
Not much would slow him down. Without comment, she handed him the supplies.
He scratched his head and scribbled on the notepad.
She sat across from him. “Dad, if all you had in your briefcase was paperwork for Su Lin, why would someone want to steal it? Do you think your attack had something to do with Loving Arms?”
He finished writing a sentence, underlined it, and glanced up at her. “Why would helping pregnant women have anything to do with someone following me inside to rob me?”
“The more I think about it,” Margaret said, “that Harper boy from up the block—Lenny Harper—and that friend of his are about the same size as the attackers. Maybe they were the ones who robbed you. I know they slashed those tires two blocks over a couple of weeks ago.” She shook her paring knife in their direction. “And I told them I’d be watching them.”
“Margaret you need to be careful. You should let the police handle them,” Keely said. Most witnesses to crimes in the city feared retaliation. Few ever stepped forward. But Margaret and Ben were old-school. They worked to keep their neighborhood clean. Ben with his preaching, and Margaret with her attitude and shotgun.
Margaret studiously ignored her and chopped vegetables with renewed vigor.
“I still think it’s worth checking out if the attack involved Loving Arms somehow,” Keely said. “You were going to pick up Su Lin, and the briefcase had stuff for her in it. Plus, Su Lin never showed.”
Ben grimaced. “Loving Arms struck out this time. We’d arranged health insurance, a place to stay, and a meeting with an adoption lawyer for Su Lin. She’s four months pregnant, and planned to live in Baltimore until her baby was born. She wanted to return to Los Angeles after the baby was received by its adoptive family—start a new life.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Her parents think she disgraced them, so they kicked her out, but I guess they were going to take her back in once she put the baby up for adoption.”
“Have you been in contact with her parents?” Keely asked, instantly alarmed by the possibilities.
“No. Only Su. She says she was raped by her father’s boss. Her parents don’t believe her. They refuse to press charges or call the police. The dad’s afraid of losing his job. They’re claiming she has a secret boyfriend.”
Good Lord. If the girl’s own parents didn’t believe her, no wonder she’d called Loving Arms for help. “Can I get Su Lin’s parents’ number from you?” What if her disappearance somehow tied in with the attack? Maybe the boss was trying to get rid of her. It was worth a try to contact the parents, no matter how unhelpful they had been up to this point.
Her dad frowned. “Su’s disappearance could be a part of all this, couldn’t it? I pray she’s okay. Her parents’ number was in the briefcase, but you can call Charlie. He has the number in his book. Okay if I get to work now?”
“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” Keely smiled but shook her head at his swollen face, bandaged brow, and chapped lips. “Dad, if you get up in front of your parishioners any time soon, you are going to scare them to death.”
She’d give him his privacy. For an hour or so, anyway, while she knocked on neighborhood doors, asking neighbors if they saw anything, trying to find information about who attacked her dad. She’d rather work with Logan, since he carried a badge. But he wasn’t here now.
“I’m going to talk to some neighbors,” she said, kissing her dad’s temple. Before he could interject, she added, “And yes, I’ll be careful.”
Outside, she strolled down the steps and up to the next stoop. She wouldn’t go far, and she’d only talk to the immediate neighbors. Each block had its own dangers, and risks were low on this block. She wasn’t so sure about the others.
She raised her hand to knock on the metal storm door, but the inside door opened before she made contact. April must have been watching from her window. Did she do that often?
“Do you have sec?” Keely asked.
April peered through the screen, her dark black hair slicked back into a neat ponytail accentuating her full lips, brown eyes, and dark complexion. The sound of a TV cartoon and giggling children reverberated down the narrow hallway. A man, about six feet tall, hovered behind her.
April’s boyfriend. Keely had seen him once or twice. With a sigh, April checked over her shoulder then stepped outside.
“How’s Ben doing?” April asked, crossing her arms and rubbing them to keep warm in the cool fall breeze.
Keely didn’t know April that well. Only that she was a single mom to her daughter, Jalissa, and was polite but kept to herself. But Ben had spoken highly of her and seemed to care for his neighbor. “Banged up, but he’ll be okay.”
April glanced at the street behind Keely and then back toward her house. “Good. He’s a nice man.”
“How’s Jalissa’s knee?”
“Bandaged. Doing better. Thanks.”
Now that the pleasantries were out of the way, Keely could focus on the real task. “Did you see anything the day my dad was attacked? Anyone hanging around about three o’clock?”
April stared at the ground. “Cops already been around asking about that.” She glanced to the right and nodded toward the sidewalk in the distance. “I walk Jalissa to school every morning and then meet her to walk home at three o’clock on school days. I wasn’t here and I didn’t see anything.” She met Keely’s gaze, and held it. Unwavering.
Was April telling the truth, or was the young mother just too scared to talk?
…
At noon, Keely grabbed her denim jacket off the banister. A shadow appeared at the front door, followed by a knock.
“It’s me, Logan.”
Keely’s heartbeat increased.
“Make sure you know who it is first,” her dad hollered.
“It’s Logan.” She opened the outer door and stood to the side. He wore black jeans, black boots, a black T-shirt, and his black leather jacket. Everything about him screamed power and energy. And pure masculine sex. Yeah. That was definitely there, too. Her blood raced as she took in his appearance and shivered at the thought of those strong arms around her.
“Hey. Cold?” He stepped inside.
She rubbed her arms. “A little,” she lied. The room temperature had shot up at least twenty degrees when she looked at him.
“Ready to go to jail?” he asked.
She laughed, the palpable tension ebbing. “As long as you don’t leave me there. I’ve heard there’s no bubble baths.”
Her face instantly heated. Damn. Sending the wrong
message here. She cleared her throat, ready to change the subject. “We’re stopping by church first, right? I want to check on a few files. And Dad thinks Charlie has Su Lin’s parents’ phone number. If he doesn’t, I’ll see if I can find any files on Su Lin.”
“That’s the plan. I’m yours for the day.”
God. He really needed to stop with the insinuations. Was he trying to ruffle her? If so, it was working. Hot and bothered didn’t even begin to describe her mood since he’d walked in.
He lifted a paper bag. “For Ben. Protein drinks. I use them all the time after my workouts. They don’t taste as bad as the ones the hospital serves.”
The spicy scent of his aftershave made her want to lean closer and take a deep breath. Giving herself a mental kick, she said, “Thanks. Why don’t you bring them in? He’d love to see you.” She’d invited him in for her dad’s sake. Yeah, sure.
“I have an idea I want to run by Ben, too.” He smiled. “Then you and I will get to work.”
Heat crept up her neck at his warm, firm touch. Just because his words made her mind jump to a double entendre didn’t mean he’d meant it that way. She slipped out from under his hand and led the way into the kitchen.
Her father glanced up from his paperwork to look at Logan then to her. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.
“I brought protein drinks.” Logan laid the bag on the table and shook hands with her dad, careful of his injuries. “That, and an offer. I want to hire a bodyguard for you. This seems like more than a robbery attempt, and—”
“No bodyguard needed.” Her father held up a hand, leaned back in his chair, and studied Logan. “I already have Margie and Keely taking turns babysitting me. I sent Margie home for a nap an hour ago, but she’ll be back as soon as Keely leaves. Dave insisted on taking a turn, too.” He squinted. “I don’t know why you’re all so worried. Probably just kids looking for cash. I’ll be more careful in the future, look around before I open my door.”
“This neighborhood’s getting tough, Ben, and so are the kids.”
“Have a little faith. You turned out pretty good for a punk.”
Logan chuckled, then his expression turned serious. “The police force is stretched so thin right now they can only focus on major crimes. Until we find who did this to you, I think you need to be proactive. I have a friend, Beatrice. She’s great. She’s a cop and moonlights as a bodyguard all the time.” He leaned closer to her dad. “She needs the money, Ben, and she’s too proud to take handouts. I want to pay for this.”
Warmth flooded Keely’s system at Logan’s respectful approach to her father. Her dad wouldn’t be able to refuse if it meant helping someone. With a shake of her head, she cleared the emotions and pushed them away.
Her dad sighed. “I appreciate it, Logan, really I do. But I don’t want to change my lifestyle because of one robbery.”
Logan frowned but didn’t argue. “If you change your mind, the offer is open.” He faced Keely. “You ready?”
She nodded, and warmth pulsed through her. Her dad was fine, and he had friends to look after him. And Logan was back in her life.
Until his next disappearing act.
But at least for now, all was good.
“Keely…wait,” her dad said. “Logan, she’ll catch up with you at the front door.”
Logan lifted a brow, but turned and left the room.
Her dad waited a few seconds, then his expression went serious. “Keely, we need to talk about Logan. There’s something I should have told you a long time ago.” He broke eye contact with her.
Keely darted a glance at the doorway Logan had just exited. “Now?” she asked, staring at her father until he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he murmured, then turned back to his papers.
Whatever it was, she knew her father well enough to know if he said tomorrow, he meant tomorrow.
But that didn’t stop a surge of anticipation from running through her system.
Chapter Six
Keely glanced up at the peeling paint above the church entryway arch and stabbed the doorbell next to the deadbolt her father had installed as a security measure. Logan stood beside her, squinting in the bright early afternoon sun.
“Sad and ironic that they need to keep a church door locked. But safety always comes first with Dad.”
Logan nodded. “Yep.”
Most people mistook Great Grace church for a hundred-year-old building instead of only a neglected fifty.
Even as a young girl, Keely had understood her dad’s congregation members were, for the most part, blue collar workers who faithfully attended church every Sunday. There were a few wealthy families who came from Federal Hill and some upscale, rehabbed neighborhoods, but not many. The pews filled every week, but the collection plate didn’t.
“Can I help you?” The deep male voice of her dad’s secretary came through over the intercom.
“Hi, Charlie, it’s Keely. Can you let me in?”
The door unlocked with a buzz.
She pushed on the door but, in spite of the low-humidity October afternoon, the door wouldn’t budge.
Logan moved to her side. “Here, let me—”
The door swung open to reveal Dave and two teens standing on the other side. “Whoa! If I’d been a snake, I’d have bit you.” Dave hugged a basketball to his side with his elbow. “How’s your dad, Keely?”
Two pre-teens in baggy sweats followed him outside. Keely recognized both boys from the neighborhood. “Working on his sermon,” she said, responding to Dave’s question.
Dave smiled, but kept his gaze focused on the two fidgety boys.
“Dave, this is Logan North.”
As two men shook hands, Dave said, “We’re headed out to the basketball court.”
“Can we go now?” The taller boy, Jason Clark, asked before Logan could answer. Keely knew his mom well. She was a single mother who worked hard as a hotel maid and pushed her kids to do their best at school. Fortunately for Jason and other kids like him, the church provided afterschool activities which kept them out of trouble. Dave had always found a way to connect with the local kids in danger of joining gangs or becoming addicted to drugs.
Dave chuckled, the sound a bit forced. “Nice to meet you, Logan. Keely, tell your dad I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
Logan stared after them as they walked away.
“You want to interview him, don’t you?” Keely asked.
“He’s on my list.”
She sighed. “Who isn’t?” At least she couldn’t fault him for being negligent.
Inside, the scent of the church filled Keely’s nostrils. The lemon furniture polish on the old wooden pews, the sweet flower aroma left behind from the weekend’s weddings and occasions, and the lingering smoke from the candles all wrapped together to form one scent—church. A homey, feel-good scent that calmed her every time she walked through the doors.
“Hasn’t changed much in ten years.” Logan hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside.
His hesitation made him look like he was afraid he’d burst into flames, and she suppressed a smile. “You mean you haven’t been here since joining the Marines?”
He shrugged.
Their soft footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor of the empty church. She opened a connecting door into the brightly-lit breezeway that led to the offices. The church was small, but her dad had found ways to make good use of the space. The short hallway led to a half-dozen small rooms—a nursery for the little ones during church services, a set of offices for Dave and her father, and a few classrooms for religious education and community meetings.
The outer door to the reception area outside her dad and Dave’s offices was propped open. Charlie sat behind the desk, typing on a computer. When she and Logan walked in, he pushed out of his seat and lumbered around his desk toward them.
Light reflected off his dark, bald head. He clasped his hands in front of him as if he weren’t sure whether
to shake hands or give her a hug. “How is Ben? I wanted to come visit him, but I didn’t want to be a bother.”
She smiled at the man who had been homeless for over a year before her dad had given him a job. Charlie worked hard and always had a smile on his face. After reassuring him about her father’s condition, she introduced him to Logan.
They shook hands and Charlie studied him with narrowed eyes.
“Logan North,” he said slowly. He strode behind his desk and sat. “So what brings you two here? Ben send you to pick up some stuff so he can work from home? I told him no working this week.”
“Thanks for keeping Dad in line. We’re actually here to get Su Lin’s phone number. You don’t happen to have that, do you?”
Charlie shook his head. “It might be in her file, though.”
Her gaze fell to the spot next to Charlie’s chair and immediately recognized something oddly familiar. What the hell?
“Charlie, is that my father’s briefcase?” She rounded the desk and stood beside the brown leather briefcase that sported an identical large engraving to her dad’s—a small heart inside of a larger one, the logo for Loving Arms. Why would Charlie have it? Weren’t the police looking for it?
Her face burned with anger. If Charlie was involved in her father’s attack after all the things he had done for him…
“No.” Charlie snatched up the briefcase, held it to his chest. “It’s mine. A bunch of us have the same kind.”
“A bunch of you?” she asked. Logan hovered beside her, his posture erect, reminding her of a cobra ready to strike.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sweat brimmed on Charlie’s face and he gazed from her to Logan, and back again. “From one of the adoptive families. They were so happy. We said we couldn’t accept any sort of gift, but they sent us briefcases. Me, your dad, Dave, Craig Bittinger, and the foster family…uh, I forget their name…and some of the board members and parishioners.”
“So you don’t mind if we take a look inside your briefcase, then?” Logan asked.
Keely glanced at him. Part of her wanted to defend Charlie’s privacy, but a bigger part wanted too badly to find out who was behind her dad’s attack to worry about a small thing like privacy.
