by Cara Marsi
Doriana had seen those kinds of bruises before. Her parent’s former housekeeper Lila had had a husband who regularly beat her. Doriana’s parents had tried to help, but it was too late. Lila’s husband killed her, then took his own life.
“Let me help you, Candi,” she said. “The company has programs. I’ll make some calls. We can get you to a shelter.”
Candi pulled away and looked at Doriana with a mixture of resentment and embarrassment in her blue eyes. “Logan’s helping me.”
Jealousy slammed into Doriana again, but she forced it away and looked at Logan.
He slanted Doriana a grim look. “It’s a tough situation.”
His eyes challenged Doriana to trust him. The steel girders she’d erected around her heart began to slowly pull apart. Logan would help Candi, just as he helped her. But he had no romantic interest in the other woman. He’d told her that and she believed him. Doriana nodded. Relief softened Logan’s harsh features.
“If you need me, I’ll be here,” Doriana said softly.
Awareness passed between Logan and Doriana. Everything else—Candi, the long hallway, the opening and closing of the elevator doors—receded until only she and Logan existed. The hint of a smile played around Logan’s mouth. He reached out and touched a finger to Doriana’s lips. Her pulse jumped in response.
Voices at the other end of the hall brought her back to reality. She glanced at her watch. “I’m late for my meeting.”
She knew Logan watched her as she walked away. His gaze seared into her until she disappeared through the double doors of the sales department.
* * * *
“That was interesting,” Candi said.
Logan turned to her. “Doriana meant what she said. She’ll help if you need it.”
Candi threw him a knowing smile. “I wasn’t talking about that.”
“Don’t go there. You called me down here because you’re in trouble. What are we going to do about you?”
Tears watered her eyes. “What can I do? He loves me. Something ticked him off last night. That was all. He’ll stop beating up on me once things work out for him. He’s had a rough life.”
Logan drew a deep breath, fighting frustration. “Lots of people have rough lives, but they don’t abuse others. He’s not going to stop. I know it and you know it.”
He traced his fingers over her swollen jaw. “What do you tell your co-workers?”
“I don’t say anything anymore. I used up all my excuses. They know, but they don’t ask questions. They don’t really care.” Bitterness edged her voice.
“I know people who can help,” Logan said.
Candi put her hand on his arm. “Only you can help me. You can save me.”
He smiled and placed his hand over hers. “I’m no knight in shining armor. You give me too much credit.”
“Meet me tonight,” she said. “I need to talk to someone.”
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t leave Doriana and Josh alone.
She reached out a small hand to touch his face. “Please. I need help. I’m scared. I can tell you stuff. About work.”
Doriana and Josh needed him. But Candi might have the information to crack this case. His suspicions grew stronger every day that Doriana’s caller was connected to the problems at Callahan’s. Helping Candi could also help Doriana.
He nodded. “You name the time and place and I’ll be there.”
* * * *
Logan sat down to dinner with Doriana and Josh for the first time. But Doriana couldn’t concentrate on the food. Tension lay heavier on her stomach than the pizza they shared. Candi’s ravaged face and haunted eyes kept intruding, as they had all afternoon since she saw the woman with Logan. Candi’s image brought the doubts. Could she believe Logan that there was only friendship between him and Candi?
Doriana slid a glance at Logan. He and Josh were debating the merits of one racecar driver over another. She studied Logan’s strong profile, the straight nose and firm chin. She looked over at Josh, a mirror of Logan. The eagerness on Josh’s face as he talked to Logan made Doriana’s heart lurch. She’d thought she could keep the two apart. She was wrong.
Logan looked over at her, his gaze searching her face. Longing shadowed his eyes, as if he could read her mind. They’d been denied a family all those years ago. Was it too late?
The scraping of a chair over the wood floor drew her back to the present. She looked at Josh. He pushed away from the table and stood up.
“Going somewhere?” Doriana asked.
Reddening slightly, Josh shrugged. “Steven’s mom is picking me up. Steve and I are hanging out at his place tonight.”
Doriana frowned.
“It’s Friday, Mom.”
“I’m aware of that,” Doriana said. “But Mrs. Morelli usually calls me when you’re going to spend time there.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Josh slid his glance away. Alarm bells sounded in Doriana’s head, but she silenced them. Josh had never outright lied to her before. But she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was too trusting.
Logan swung his gaze to Josh. “I could drive you over to your friend’s.”
Josh tensed. “No, it’s okay. She’ll be here any minute.”
He left the room at a near-run.
Logan and Doriana stared at each other.
“Something’s up with him,” Logan said.
Doriana bristled. “You’ve only known him a few days and you think you can read him. I trust him. After all, I’m the one who raised him.”
Logan flinched. “I guess I know where I stand.”
Doriana’s face burned. She had sounded like such a shrew. “Logan, I didn’t mean...”
He put up a hand, stopping her. A muscle worked in his jaw. “Don’t.” He stood and dropped his napkin onto his plate. “I have to go out too, but I’ll help you clean up first.”
“I’ll take care of it. Are you going to see Candi?” Jealousy threatened, but she tamped it down. The other woman was in trouble, serious trouble.
He nodded. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but Candi wants to talk. Maybe I can convince her to get help before it’s too late.”
Doriana pushed out of her chair and stood facing him. “I’ll go with you.”
Logan placed his hands on her shoulders. “Thanks, I’d like you with me, but Candi won’t talk with you there. You intimidate her.”
Doriana arched an eyebrow. “I intimidate her?”
His crooked smile sent shivers of excitement skittering up her spine. “Hell, you intimidate me.”
She returned his smile. “Now I know you’re lying.”
He took her chin between his fingers. His eyes softened. “You do intimidate me. Beauty, sweetness, and strength.” He stroked her cheekbone. The feel of his calloused finger against her skin made heat pull low in her belly.
“Don’t do that,” she said in a husky whisper.
Logan looked at her for long seconds before he turned and strode away.
Doriana stared at the empty doorway. The sound of a horn blasting, followed by the front door slamming, pulled her from the room.
She was too late. Josh was gone. Minutes later Logan came down the stairs, his leather jacket flung casually over one shoulder. His masculinity made her heart do a crazy somersault. His gaze, tortured and dark, reached out to an answering need in her. She bit her lip, keeping back the words that would ask him to stay.
“Dorie, I don’t want to go, but I have to. There are things I can’t share with you now. All I ask is that you have a little faith in me.”
Confusion jumbled through her head. She sensed again the deep undercurrents in Logan. How could she have faith in what she didn’t understand?
She swallowed. “You’d better go.”
He brushed a hand over her arm. “Keep the doors locked and the security alarm on. I’ve hired someone to watch the house, a retired detective. He’s sitting outside in his car.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said. “And
how can you afford it?”
He stiffened. “Don’t worry about it. And don’t argue. Call me on my cell if you need me. I won’t be long.” He gently squeezed her arm. Then he was gone.
She set the dead bolt and leaned against the door. The silence in the house smothered her. Her arm tingled where Logan had touched, like a talisman protecting her. Lifting her head, she looked toward the dining room, at the dirty dishes, open pizza box and wadded-up napkins. She headed to the room and the clean-up that would keep her too busy to think.
Josh should arrive at Steven’s shortly. She’d clean up, then give Mrs. Morelli a call in a little while, just to be sure. She wanted to believe her son, but doubt chewed at her resolve.
Doriana picked up the plates belonging to Josh and Logan. Each had left a pizza slice with one identical bite taken out. They were alike in so many ways. A chill ran over her. Had Josh lied and could she believe Logan that he only wanted to help Candi?
No, she thought, shaking her head. She would trust them both. She froze in the kitchen doorway as a sense of foreboding worked its way through her. Logan was walking into danger. Somehow she knew that. It couldn’t be. Stress had her imagining evil where there was none.
Forcing her apprehension away, Doriana loaded the dishwasher, using the mindless task to calm her. A police siren in the distance set her nerves on edge. Feeling ready to scream, she switched on the radio and turned it off just as quickly. Darned Christmas tunes. They filled every airwave this time of year. As a child she’d loved Christmas, and especially loved the songs.
The lonely Christmas Eve when Josh was born changed everything. In the years since, she’d gone through the motions and the superficial trappings—the tree, the decorating, the shopping—for Josh’s sake.
She didn’t know if she could keep up the pretense this year. Logan’s return had set her well-ordered life on its rear. She suspected she and Josh would never be the same. A part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to a life without Logan.
The truth that had been knocking at the edges of her heart burst free. She leaned against the kitchen sink. The plate she held fell onto the floor and shattered.
She loved Logan. Had never stopped loving him. She’d been in denial, but she could no longer ignore what her heart had always known. She wanted to believe in him again. A knot of fear constricted her chest and she fisted her hand against her mouth. She pressed against the cold, hard stainless of the sink, welcoming the slight physical pain to ease the torture of her soul.
Logan could hurt her again. Worse, he could hurt Josh. Logan had the power to hurt both of them deeply.
~~~~
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cheap liquor and stale tobacco. Logan’s stomach clenched at the memories that assaulted him. Memories of a scared, skinny kid standing in a seedy bar just like this one. A kid coming to drag his drunken father home while his mother lay dying of cancer. Logan blinked to clear his vision, clouded by smoke and pain.
He spotted Candi in a booth at the other end of the room and headed toward her, ignoring the belligerent looks thrown his way. In no mood for a bar fight, he avoided eye contact with the other patrons.
Logan slid into a seat opposite Candi and she threw him a nervous smile.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said.
“You’re in trouble. I want to help.” He gave her a reassuring smile and glanced at his watch. He wanted and needed to be with Doriana. But he had a job to do.
“Got a hot date later?” Candi said, arching an eyebrow.
Logan laughed. “Hardly.”
A waitress whose time-worn face still held some semblance of youthful beauty came over to take his drink order.
“Ginger ale,” he said.
Candi wrapped her hand around her glass of beer and watched the waitress walk away. She leaned toward Logan. “You don’t drink? You really are too good to be true. The women at work get all hot and bothered whenever they see you. Are you an angel who looks like the devil?”
He waved a hand. “Don’t.”
“Modest too,” she said.
He held her gaze. “Now tell me what’s going on. And I want the truth.”
She took a sip of beer, peering at him over the rim of the tall glass. Setting the glass on the table, she released a deep sigh. “Some things are going down that scare me. I think I may have gotten in too deep.” Her voice trembled.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Candi?”
Her face pinked and she slid her gaze to the large clock hanging on the wall.
The waitress came with his drink, distracting him. Candi chugged her beer and ordered another. They sat in silence, Candi looking out over the bar, anywhere except at him, until the waitress brought her drink.
“Candi,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
She turned to him with eyes that had hardened to blue granite. The fear and vulnerability that had shadowed them a few minutes ago had disappeared.
A chill passed over Logan. Candi was a survivor. They had that in common. She put on different faces, but he believed she was straight with him. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought. He shifted in his seat. She needed his help. And he needed her information.
“Is it Bryce James?” he asked.
Shock registered on Candi’s pretty face. She coughed on the beer she just sipped. “How do you know about Bryce?” Her eyes glittered and her voice held a brittle, defiant tone.
“How I know is not important,” he said. “I can help you. You don’t owe him anything. Has he gotten you involved in something illegal?”
Sadness crossed her features for a fleeting instant before a calculating hardness took over. “Bryce buys me nice things.” She fingered the diamond bracelet on her wrist and let out a short, bitter laugh. “I take real good care of him too.”
“Is he the one beating up on you?” Logan asked.
“Bryce?” Her lips curled in a sneer. “Bryce wouldn’t crush a bug. He’s not man enough.” She flicked a nervous glance toward the clock, then turned back to Logan. “He loves me.” She wrapped her hands so tightly around her glass Logan thought it would shatter.
“Bryce?”
She wrinkled her nose. “God, no. Bryce will never leave that mousy wife of his.”
“And you think this other guy loves you? He sure has a funny way of showing it. Open your eyes before it’s too late.”
She pushed her glass aside. Her lips quirked in a flirtatious smile. “My eyes are wide open,” she said in a husky voice. “And I like what I see.” She reached out to glide one of her long, slender fingers over the back of his hand. “I know how to keep a man happy.”
Pity coiled in Logan’s stomach. How many drinks had she had before he got there? “Don’t. You have a lot more to offer a man than just your body.”
She threw back her head and laughed, a grating, bitter sound. Several of the bar patrons turned to stare at her. When she looked back at Logan, despair clouded her eyes. “Try telling that to my uncles and all the other men from the old neighborhood who couldn’t keep their sweaty paws off me. I learned real early what men want from me.”
Logan took one of her hands in his. “Stop that. No matter what you did in the past, you deserve respect, not abuse.”
Scowling, she pulled her hand away. “Get real.”
Logan sipped his soda, buying time to control his anger and his frustration. Candi slid another glance toward the clock. The hairs on his nape prickled against his jacket collar. He quickly downed his ginger ale, but he couldn’t wash away the feeling of unease that grew stronger every minute.
Pushing his empty glass aside, he leaned over the table, forcing Candi to look at him. “If you won’t let me help you, why did you drag me here?”
She shrugged. “You got a date with Boss Lady later?”
“Leave Doriana out of this. Why did you ask me here?”
“I needed someone to talk to,” she said. “I know things about work and I have no one
else to trust.”
Logan ignored the small voice in his brain that told him Candi wasn’t being straight with him. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt this time. He sat back in his seat, trying to look relaxed. “What things?” He flicked at a piece of imaginary lint on his jacket. Clouds of cigarette smoke hung in the room, burning his throat. He signaled the waitress for another soda.
“I want to tell you,” Candi said. “But I’m afraid.”
He forced down his frustration. “Just say it.”
She dropped her gaze to the table. “It’s almost over so it doesn’t matter.”
Logan tightened his jaw. Candi’s constant baiting, then pulling back, made him feel like a damn fish on a long line. “I’m tired of games.” He stood and threw some bills on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
Candi licked her lips and looked over at the clock. She grabbed Logan’s arm. “Don’t go. Please.”
The panic in her voice stirred pity in him. Despite the warning shivers that raced up his spine, Logan sat down and narrowed his gaze at her. “What is it you know about work? What kinds of things?”
“If I tell you, and he finds out, he’ll hurt me real bad.” Fear and defiance mingled in her eyes.
Logan understood all too well the hold an abuser had on his victim. First his mother, then he, had lived through that particular hell. But he would not be Candi’s enabler. He banged his fist on the table. Candi’s glass rattled and beer spilled out.
“And if you stay with him, he’ll kill you,” Logan said. “Tell me what you know and I’ll protect you. There are safe houses you can go to where he can’t touch you.” Some of Logan’s anger drained away at the tears glistening in Candi’s eyes. He placed one of his hands over hers on the table. “I promise I’ll protect you.” The waitress set a fresh glass of ginger ale in front of him. He took a long chug, his gaze on Candi.
She pulled her hand free and swiped at a tear. “You know those bids being stolen at work?”
His pulse raced. “How do you know they were stolen?”
