A deep crimson blush colored Lucy's cheeks. Her embarrassment made her even more adorable. The urge to pull over and do things that would color her skin an even deeper shade of red welled up in a river of desire from deep within his abdomen. Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly forcing his mind to focus on other things; things that had nothing to do with Angelina's warm body pressed against his.
The tires spun as the Jeep tumbled down a small embankment before it began the final ascent to Aunt Clara's compound. Logan felt Angelina's eyes on him, but he didn't take his own eyes off the dirt road. She didn't speak again, so neither did he.
As they rounded a bend, Angelina let out a little gasp. Logan smiled, remembering the first time that he saw Aunt Clara's prepper compound. It was a very impressive sight even to someone like him who owned a safe house with an escape hatch. And that was just the parts that could be seen.
The cabin actually opened up into a fortress built into the hillside. The actual space was at least four times larger than it appeared from the outside. Built like a bunker with eight inches of concrete making up the
walls and floors, a security system that would put the pentagon to shame, and a plethora of features designed to protect the inhabitants from any end of the world scenario one could devise, the visible part of the structure resembled a small mountain cabin meant for family getaways and weekend hunting trips.
What made it different from the standard hunting cabin was the eighteen foot windmill, cistern, and water storage tank.
"This place belongs to your aunt?" Angelina said in disbelief.
"Sure does. After my uncle died, she inherited a tidy sum of family money that she held onto. Once the three of us boys were out of school and out on our own, she moved to this mountain. You are now looking at a large chunk of that inheritance."
Angelina opened the door of the Jeep and gingerly stepped down from the cab. Logan made a note to find her some shoes as soon as they were settled. Aunt Clara had to have something she could use.
Suddenly the door to the cabin flew open. A little woman with a very big rifle jumped through the door yelling at the top of her lungs. "Get down on the ground! I ain't afraid to use this thing! Get down!"
The woman waved the gun wildly in the air. Angelina dropped to her knees even as Logan took a step forward, laughing.
"Aunt Clara! It's me, Logan!"
The little woman stopped yelling the instant she heard Logan's voice. With a hand held above her eyes to block out what little sun made its way through the trees, she called out, "Logan? What are you doing here?"
"Where are your glasses, Aunt Clara?" He was still laughing as he crossed the clearing between them and grabbed his slight-figured aunt up in a bear hug.
"Well, you know I got no patience for those things, boy. They just keep sliding down off my nose."
Logan laughed again. His aunt was his favorite person in the world. After the death of his mother, she was the only adult left in his life he felt that he could trust. He still felt that way.
"If you had them on you might not have come so close to shooting us!" He gestured to Angelina who was pulling herself up off the ground, disdain clouding her features. Logan frowned. The last twenty-four hours had been more of a trial for her than any one human being should have to go through. It was time to get her settled and figure out a way to get her out of this mess without endangering her life any further.
Walking back to where Angelina leaned against the Jeep watching them warily, Logan took her hand and gently led her to the cabin steps where his aunt stood squinting at them.
"Angelina Ferrara, meet my aunt, Clara James"
"Nice to meet you, Ms. James." Angelina reached out to shake the older woman's hand, but Clara grabbed her up in the same sort of bear hug he'd greeted his aunt with. Logan watched with amusement.
"Oh, posh! Call me Clara, will you! No formalities around this here place." She gestured toward the cabin behind her. "Come, let's get you inside, dear. Whatever happened to your shoes?" Clara gave her the once over from head to toe. "Hmmm...I may not have my glasses on, Logan, but isn't that the shirt I gave you for your birthday? I definitely think we all need to sit down with some hot breakfast and have a long talk."
Aunt Clara had always been insightful. Of course, him showing up with a woman she knew nothing of wearing his clothes and shoeless probably would have set off warning bells in anyone's head, no matter how clear their vision.
"Breakfast sounds great, Aunt Clara." A loud rumble sounded from Angelina's stomach making Logan laugh. She flushed in embarrassment and stared at the ground. "I think Angelina might be a bit on the hungry side as well."
They all laughed and Angelina seemed to relax considerably. Clara linked their arms and led her into the house. "Come along, dear, let me show you where you can get cleaned up. I bet I have something that might fit you a little better than my nephew's oversized lumberjack clothes."
Angelina glanced back at Logan, questions in her eyes. He nodded at her. "Go ahead, it's okay. I'm going to head to my room and clean up too. I'll see you at breakfast. She's perfectly safe, I promise."
Clara laughed as she led Angelina down a hall in the opposite direction from where Logan went. "Perfectly safe! That nephew of mine is such a joker!"
"You love me, Aunt Clara! You know you do!"
The echo of his aunt's laughter filtered back to him, and he couldn't help but grin as he made his way to the room Clara had designated as his for when the world ended one day.
The large windowless room was warm and welcoming despite the lack of natural light. Reminiscent of a horse ranch, the décor was southwestern in style. With warm rusts, browns, and reds dyed into the
fabrics covering the small sofa, chair and ottoman that coordinated with the bright colored bedding, Logan felt
instantly more at home there than anywhere else in the
world. Somehow his aunt had channeled his inner cowboy with the oversized wood furniture, antler wall hangings, and various taxidermy projects she collected from thrift stores over the years. An antique saddle even hung on one wall. What he would ever do with such a thing if the apocalypse occurred, he wasn't sure, but Aunt Clara swore it would come in handy one day.
Knowing Aunt Clara would take good care of his guest, Logan stole a few minutes for a hot shower. The bathroom was as perfect as the rest of the room. The understated luxury of the natural stone was just his style. Aunt Clara knew him well. If the world as he knew it ever did end, it would be no hardship to spend the after days in this suite his aunt had designed just for him.
Especially if someone like Angelina were there to fill his days and nights.
Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Logan turned the water on. All these thoughts of Angelina—maybe he needed a cold shower instead of a hot one.
It took mere seconds for the large bathroom to fill with steam. Logan stripped off his grimy clothes and dropped them in a heap on the tile floor before stepping under the hot spray. Every muscle in his body ached with tension, but the hot water and herbal soap Aunt Clara made soon began to soothe it all away. He closed his eyes against the stream and let the water massage his face. Turning away from the spray, he let the heat warm his shoulders and wash down over his back, relaxing him.
Images of Angelina from the day before, damp and flushed after the shower she took in his tiny cabin began to fill his mind. His physical response even to the
mere thought of her was unnerving. More than anything he longed to have her there with him flushed and damp in his shower. He could almost feel her pressed against his hot skin, like the night before as he kissed her with a longing he had never before experienced.
"Get with it, James. You hardly know her." His voice echoed loudly in the large space as he worked hard to convince himself Angelina was not at all what he wanted. Neither his mind nor the rest of his body seemed to believe him.
"Who you talking to in there, nephew?" Aunt Clara's voice sounded loud and clear thro
ugh the rush of the water and the heat in his veins.
"Aunt Clara! You're supposed to be with Angelina!"
"I was but she's doing the same thing you are. At least, she is taking a shower. I doubt she is fantasizing about herself the way you are about her though!"
"Ugh! Is there no privacy with you?" He reached up and snapped off the water spigot. His body felt cold at the loss of the pounding spray. He grabbed a towel from the rack by the shower and wrapped it tightly around his waist. Yanking another towel off the rack, he threw it over his head, towel drying his blond mop of hair as he walked from the bathroom.
"Hmpf! If you were so concerned with privacy, you wouldn't have walked out here wearing nothing but a piece of cotton around your waist. I am your old, feeble aunt, you know."
"Old and feeble? Right, Aunt Clara. You are anything but old and feeble. And that still doesn't give you the right to walk in on me."
"I didn't walk in on anyone anywhere. I heard your voice and thought you were calling for me. Maybe you needed a towel. Maybe you fell in the shower...or maybe you were in there fantasizing about that pretty young thing in the guest room. It's quite obvious, even to the old and feeble, that you got a thing for her, my young nephew."
"You are an old woman, half blind already. You can't see your feet on the floor." He shot his aunt a wry grin as he started pulling jeans, a waffle knit long sleeved top, and a soft flannel shirt from various drawers. Tossing the clothes on the bed, he dug through another chest of drawers in search of a fresh set of boxer shorts and a clean pair of socks.
"Not so old I can't feel the attraction between you two. Just where did you find that young lady?"
"Aren't you going to ask me why we are here? I know you must be dying to know." Logan grabbed the clothes back up off the bed and stepped into the bathroom to get dressed. The mirror was still covered in moisture but the majority of the steam and heat had dissipated from the space.
"Ahhh, the subject change tactic. Once a cop, always a cop." He heard Aunt Clara chuckle from the other room and smiled at her perceptiveness. Despite the cloudiness of her vision, there was absolutely nothing wrong with his aunt's mind. She was as sharp as a tack. Clara knew it as well as he did.
"Okay, Aunt Clara, we met at work."
"That little thing is a cop?"
"I didn't say that exactly but that's not the work I mean. Didn't I tell you? I am a history teacher now."
Aunt Clara showed up in the bathroom doorway, her expression incredulous to say the least.
"You are a what?"
"A history teacher."
Understanding dawned in her eyes as Aunt Clara nodded knowingly, "Ah, more undercover work?"
"Yup." Logan chuckled. "An all girls Catholic school, if you can believe it."
"Oh my, those poor, poor girls! What was the police department thinking putting you in there?"
"Come on, Aunt Clara. I'm not an idiot. How hard can it be to teach a few dates and discuss a few battles?"
"Harder than you think, nephew of mine. How'd you land that job?"
"My eternal bachelor status—as always." Logan shrugged and sighed. "Chief expected the gig to last a long time, I'm the only one with no one waiting up on me at night."
Clara grinned at him. "Not for long anyway."
"Relax, Auntie. I'm just trying to help her out. I don't mind the undercover thing. Problem is, I only made it one day before..."
"Before what? That sad little girl in there broke your heart with her secrets?"
Logan ran the towel over his hair one last time before tugging a comb through it. "What did she tell you?"
"You need a haircut. She didn't tell me a single thing. But you don't have to be a crack investigator to see she's got secrets. Somebody's hurt her and it better not have been you!"
"Aww, come on, Aunt Clara! You know better than that!" His aunt's words angered him. She was accusing Logan of being like...him.
"Now simmer down, boy. You know that's not
what I meant." Her understanding eyes and gentle pat
on his arm softened the reprimand. "I know you are nothing like my brother. You have your mother's heart and she was a good woman, Logan."
He shrugged away from his aunt's touch. "I'm sorry, Aunt Clara. I don't know...I mean I'm not sure why..."
"It's okay, dear. Why don't we go find your friend? She must be done showering by now. I left her some clothes that ought to actually fit her...and shoes. My goodness, Logan, what happened to her shoes?"
"Angelina was in a car accident yesterday afternoon. I found her at the bottom of a ravine. Her fancy high heels didn't survive. None of her clothes did actually."
"That explains why she looked like she dressed herself at the local Rescue Mission. If she wrecked her car why isn't she in the hospital?"
"The um...accident...wasn't really an accident." Logan wasn't sure how much he should tell his aunt without Angelina's permission. On the other hand, they had shown up at Aunt Clara's house unannounced in search of safety and protection. His aunt deserved to know what was going on. Just in case.
"That sweet little thing didn't try to kill herself, did she?" The shock in his aunt's eyes surprised him as did her suggestion. Even in the short amount of time he had known Angelina, he was certain suicide wasn't something she would ever contemplate.
"No, of course not. Someone...someone ran her off the road."
"So it was an accident."
"Nope. Not at all. Angelina...well, Angelina has a hit out on her."
"A hit? Like from the mob?" Aunt Clara exclaimed incredulously. "How exciting!"
"Aunt Clara!" Logan shook his head at his aunt. She watched way too many television dramas. "Angelina should really be the one to tell you the rest." He took his aunt by the arm and led her to the door of his bedroom. Let's go have tea, maybe a little something to eat?" His blue eyes sparkled. "A growing boy on the run needs to eat, you know."
"Growing boy, my dentures!" She swatted Logan's arm as they headed down the hallway toward the great room and kitchen area.
"Dentures? Why, Aunt Clara, you always told me those were your own teeth!" He teased.
"Well, of course they are!" She huffed. "When did you get to be so infuriating?"
"When I spent my teen years being raised by my aunt."
"Don't you be putting your inequities on me!" His aunt chuckled. "Just one more thing. You said you met that girl on your undercover gig but I could have sworn you also said she was a cop. Was she undercover too?"
"Sort of. I'll let Angelina tell you the rest if she wants to, okay?"
"Fine. Fine." She patted his hand again. "Let's have a little lunch and all get to know each other. You go start the tea kettle and I will hunt down your little lady. You will find everything you need in the pantry."
Aunt Clara headed off to locate Angelina while Logan continued on to the kitchen. The pantry his aunt spoke of was more storage warehouse than pantry. His
aunt kept enough stored supplies to feed herself and seven guests for up to three years. More than enough
time to re-establish society, or at least a good victory garden, she liked to say. Logan perused the shelves until he found the tea selection. He chose a cranberry orange blend he thought Angelina might like and set about heating the water.
Just as the kettle began to whistle, Aunt Clara showed up with a shy looking Angelina dressed in a pair of tight fitting jeans that looked like they had been made especially for her, a figure hugging black sweater and a pair of black cowboy boots. She looked like she just stepped from the pages of a magazine. His own jeans suddenly felt noticeably tighter.
"Feel better after a good hot shower, Angelina?" Logan's smile was wide and warm, an attempt to hide the desire his body struggled with.
"Yes. The guest bathroom was amazing. Like a spa. I thought this was supposed to be a little cabin in the woods but the house seems to go on and on and on..." Her words faded away as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to sound
rude, Ms. James. Your...home...is beautiful."
"No apologies, little lady. This house is full of surprises. If civilization happens to collapse in the next twenty years, I plan to live out my days in luxury!" Aunt Clara chuckled as she motioned Angelina to a chair. While Logan poured hot tea for them, his aunt pulled plates of ham and turkey from the massive built in refrigerator. Thick slices of homemade bread and fresh tomato completed the luncheon fare.
They sat down together at the hand carved solid oak table. Angelina picked up the tea cup Logan placed in front of her and held it with both hands. Logan
watched as she sipped the warm liquid, her expression intense as she looked around the great room.
"Aunt Clara has a knack for design doesn't she?"
Angelina nodded and smiled. "It's not at all what I expected. Thank you, Ms. James, for the clothes. Everything fit perfectly. It's nice to have shoes on again."
"You are very welcome dear. I like to think that I am prepared for everything. Go ahead and eat something. You could use a little meat on your bones."
Chapter Eleven
"So, Logan tells me you're a cop."
Angelina dropped her sandwich onto the plate and shot Logan an angry look. "I'm a high school history teacher."
"Now, young lady, even if Logan hadn't told me otherwise, I never would've believed that. You're not like any teacher I've ever met. Why don't you tell me your story? I'm a pretty trustworthy old bird, you know."
"I don't know what Logan has told you but my current career is that of history teacher in a private high school. I don't doubt your trustworthiness. I do, however, doubt your nephew's at this point in time."
"Angelina..."
"Don't even bother, Logan. You knew how important it was for me to stay under the radar."
"I didn't tell her anything."
"Sure you didn't."
Clara was watching them both, a curious look on her face and an odd knowing half smile. A fuming Logan pushed back his chair with such fury it fell over on the stone floor. Clara just smiled as she watched him stomp from the house.
Witness Protection (Defenders of Love Book 1) Page 10
