Nickel: A Romantic Suspense Novel (Blackwood Elements Book 9)

by Elise Noble

  Then another message popped up. An update?

  No.

  Kenneth: Look who stopped by to visit! I don’t want him to get run over like the last one, so I think it’s best that you come and pick him up. Shall we say tonight at seven?

  He’d attached a photo of Nickel sitting on his couch, looking as if he wanted to swat something, and my vision turned red. That scumbag had taken my freaking cat!

  How dare he?

  I ducked into an empty meeting room and carefully placed my phone onto the table. Better that than throwing it against the wall. Breathe, Sloane. Just breathe.

  “What’s up, kitten?” Logan asked from behind me. “You’re snorting like a pissed-off bull.”

  “I am not.”

  “Uh, you are.”

  “Well, can you blame me?” I thrust the phone into his hands. “Kenneth’s catnapped Nickel!”

  “Easy, easy.”

  One of Logan’s hands came to the nape of my neck, rubbing away a little of the tension with one finger and a thumb while he studied Kenneth’s ransom demand. My presence in exchange for the cat.

  “Don’t tell me ‘easy.’” I leaned into Logan’s touch; I couldn’t help it. “Kenneth’s like herpes. Once he gets into you, he never goes away. Although he didn’t have herpes, thank goodness, because when we split up, I got tested for everything just in case and…that’s too much information and I’m babbling again.”

  “We’ll fix this tonight. No problem. You and me, okay?”

  “How?”

  “Let me worry about the logistics. I’ve got another meeting this afternoon, but I’ll pick you up from your place at eight. Let the little shit stew for an hour first.”

  Logan made it all sound so easy. “But—”

  “Trust me.”

  He may have been crude at times, and pushy, and so sexy he made me melt, but he’d never fibbed, not to me.

  “I trust you.”

  CHAPTER 12 - SLOANE

  I WISHED LOGAN had given me a tiny clue about his plans because I had no idea what to wear. What was appropriate attire for potentially burglarising your ex-boyfriend’s apartment?

  Skirts were out, that was a no-brainer, but should I go for jeans or sportswear? Not that I really wanted to wear yoga pants in front of Logan again. They showed every lump and bump and… Jeans it was. Black jeans and a black turtleneck with black tennis shoes. Should I wear gloves?

  A knock at the door meant I had no time to hunt for them. I ran downstairs, yanked it open, and found Logan dressed in normal clothes—blue jeans, grey T-shirt, battered white tennis shoes.

  “Okay, I feel like an idiot now.”

  “You should. Did you even check who it was before you opened the door?”

  “Well, no, but…”

  “Always check, kitten.” He looked me up and down, slowly, and he didn’t bother to hide it when his gaze lingered on my chest. “Where did you get your outfit? Ninjas ‘R’ Us?”

  “Black’s slimming, okay?”

  “Sure. We can stop off and get you a few piercings and a tattoo on the way.”

  “Shut up.”

  He waved me ahead of him to the truck, and I felt his eyes on my bottom as we walked. Tell me I didn’t have VPL? I’d worn boy shorts so I should have been in the clear, but that penetrating gaze made me oversensitive. Logan finally scooted past me to open the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Are you going to tell me the plan yet?” I asked once he’d hopped in beside me and started the engine.

  “Simple. You set off the fire alarm, and when everyone evacuates the building, I’ll go in through the balcony door and pick up Nickel.”

  “But Kenneth lives on the fourth floor.”

  “Which is why I brought a grappling hook gun.”

  “Seriously? I thought only Batman had one of those.”

  “Nate built it. He lives for this shit.”

  “How will you get through the balcony door, though? Kenneth keeps it locked.”

  “And the lock’s a piece of garbage.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I visited his apartment once before, remember? It’s literally my job to notice that stuff.”

  I was way, way out of my league here. My job involved typing up the aftermath of Logan’s adventures, not living through them.

  “How am I supposed to set the fire alarm off? It’s inside the building, and I threw my door fob and key back at Kenneth when I left.”

  “Easy. There’s a button in the entrance hallway. Just hang around outside, smile sweetly at the first person to come by, and thank them when they hold the door open for you.”

  “That works?”

  “Every damn time, kitten.”

  My heart pounded as I trailed a pretty brunette up the walkway to Kenneth’s building. Logan was already in position around the back, hiding in the trees, and he’d looked totally relaxed as he strolled off. Me? My mouth was so dry I couldn’t even swallow without coughing.

  But as predicted, the girl held the door open, and my smile was genuine.

  “Thank you,” I croaked.

  She gave me an odd look. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m just getting over a cold.”

  “Try lemon tea mixed with honey. I swear by it.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  She jogged off up the stairs, and I hung around by the elevator for a moment to check nobody else was coming, then dialled Logan with trembling fingers.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “All good here.”

  I screwed my eyes shut as I punched the fire alarm button, then speed-walked out the door. Don’t run, Logan had said. It looks suspicious. Sirens wailed as I headed for his truck, parked in the far corner of the lot by the exit. A minute passed, then two, then five, and a hundred people must have been milling around outside the building, checking for smoke. I slumped down in the front seat, watching the drama over the dashboard. Where was Kenneth? Tell me he hadn’t gotten wise to our little plan and stayed inside?

  I let out a long, relieved breath when I spotted him by the garbage dumpsters, talking on his cell phone. And then a fire truck arrived, which I felt kind of guilty about as well as the whole evacuation thing, but Logan assured me he was friends with one of the firefighters and it wouldn’t be a problem. I understood free beer was involved somewhere along the line.

  A month ago, I’d have relished the opportunity to ogle the fire crew up close, but a lot had changed in that time, and now I only had eyes for one man. Logan. And thirty seconds later, he sauntered towards the truck wearing a slim backpack I hoped contained Nickel.

  “Did you get him?” I asked before Logan got halfway into the driver’s seat.

  “Pretty sure he’s pissed at me. There was hissing.”

  “He’ll forgive you. He was probably upset because he had to put up with Kenneth all day.”

  “Understandable.”

  Logan started the engine and pulled out of the lot at a sensible speed, and I undid the zipper on the bag, careful to keep hold of Nickel’s collar so he didn’t jump around the cab. Luckily, he didn’t seem any the worse for wear, and by the time we got back to my place, he was curled up on my lap, purring.

  “Once again, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I already told you how.” Logan cupped my chin with one hand and ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “Smile.”

  I didn’t know whether to smile or spontaneously orgasm and instead, I ended up letting loose a high-pitched giggle that made Nickel tilt his head to one side in confusion.

  “Better,” Logan said.

  He still hadn’t moved his thumb, and I had a crazy urge to suck it. What would he do if I did? I was strongly considering giving it a go when Nickel made a choking sound and horked up a slimy pile of kitty treats into my lap.

  Oh, yuckety yuck. I had two choices: laugh hysterically or die.

  Logan chose to laugh. “That cat sure does have an unfortunate sense of
timing. Give me your keys, and I’ll run in and get a roll of paper towels.”

  He jogged inside, leaving me to wonder whether I’d ever manage to have a normal day with Logan. Any other man would have run a hundred miles by now, but then again, Logan was just a friend. And friends helped each other out, right? I’d certainly do anything for him.

  “Here we go.” Logan scooped the worst of the mess into a garbage bag. “You go change, and I’ll take care of the cat. And smile, kitten.”

  I did, but only because he told me to.

  Upstairs, I gave up on the idea of being stylish. Logan had seen me with cat puke all over my legs, for crying out loud. Yoga pants and a tunic top would surely be an improvement, and at least the tunic covered me up.

  Keeping the weight off had been a constant struggle, ever since I was a little girl. Each time Dad left, I turned to the cookies, and my teenage years hadn’t been kind. I’d lost a whole thirty pounds while I was dating Lyndon, mainly because he liked hiking at the weekends, and if I was walking, I wasn’t eating. I also knew how to recognise most of the native birds of Virginia and fifty types of wild flower.

  But after he departed for South America, I’d piled the pounds back on, and Kenneth’s love of restaurants had only made the problem worse. Deep down, I suspected my looks had contributed to him straying, which was the main reason I hadn’t put his tie collection through the waste disposal before I left.

  A long sigh escaped my lips. What was the point in dwelling on things I couldn’t change? Logan was in my house, and I couldn’t just leave him on his own.

  My slippers were cartoon cats, a gift from my mother last year, so I padded downstairs barefoot instead and found him sitting on the sofa with Nickel on his lap. Thankfully, my pet already seemed to have forgiven his rescuer for stuffing him into a bag.

  Was it dumb to be jealous of a cat? Probably, but that didn’t change the fact that I was.

  “Hey.”

  Logan smiled up at me. “Hey.”

  Now what? I couldn’t just stand there gawking.

  “Uh, can I make you dinner? It’s the least I can do. I’m not a great cook or even an average one, but—”

  “I’d love dinner. What can I do in the kitchen?”

  Bend me over the counter and take me from behind?

  Sloane!

  I shook my head to get rid of my filthy thoughts. Logan was only offering to help, but in my experience, men didn’t help in the kitchen. Lyndon had taken over completely while Kenneth occasionally complained about the lack of seasoning. I didn’t even know what to make. Something basic, that was for sure.

  “Can you chop up an onion? And some tomatoes?”

  Spaghetti bolognese was a safe option. Comfort food, filling, and I was pretty sure I had Parmesan cheese somewhere to grate on the top. As long as I didn’t set anything on fire… Two emergency call-outs in one night would be difficult to explain.

  Logan leaned down as we walked out of the living room, his lips brushing my ear.

  “Sure, kitten. I’ll be your bitch tonight.”

  Aw, heck. I was in so much trouble here.

  Once I’d got my racing pulse under control, cooking with Logan turned out to be a weirdly enjoyable experience. He chopped vegetables scarily fast, the knife flashing so quickly I could barely see the blade, while I browned the meat and boiled pasta.

  “Do you cook much at home?” I asked.

  “Just the basics. I’ve never had to learn anything more. In the army, someone else cooked, and then we bought the Brotherhood. Plus there’s always food at the office.”

  “Where did you learn to chop like that?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Logan was right—I didn’t. But ironically, I felt safer with a trained killer in my kitchen than I ever had with an advertising executive or a vegan poet, and Logan did the washing-up too.

  As we both sipped red wine—just one glass because he was driving and I absolutely wasn’t getting drunk this time—the tiny part of me that still believed in fairy tales piped up with a worrying observation.

  I could get used to this.

  CHAPTER 13 - LOGAN

  THE LAST TWENTY-four hours had been almost normal, Logan thought as he pounded along on the treadmill. According to the clock in the gym, it was still only seven a.m., which meant he had time to fit in a decent weights session before his first meeting. Only the catnapping drama had been a little out of the ordinary, but compared to some of the stuff Logan did on a regular basis, climbing up balconies barely warranted a raised eyebrow.

  Dinner afterwards had been unexpected but…nice. Sharing a kitchen with a woman, eating good food… And when Sloane’s nerves had settled and she’d relaxed, he thought she’d enjoyed it too. He choked back a laugh as he thought of the evening before. The impulsive bike ride had been two hours of heaven and hell. Heaven because Sloane had been pressed against his back as well as wrapped around him, hell because they’d both been wearing clothes and he’d had to concentrate on the road. Although he’d nearly crashed when she fondled his dick. Judging by how flustered she’d been afterwards, he had to assume that had been an accident, albeit a rather pleasant one.

  And being in the office around her was purgatory too. Outside of work, she may have been loosening up a bit, but after the last incident with Kenneth on the phone, Logan had to tread very, very carefully. Which meant no “accidental” brushes against her in the hallways, no innuendos at her desk, and definitely no dragging her into the bathroom because his damn hands wanted to peel her clothes off.

  He lasted four hours before his willpower gave out. Four hours of surreptitious glances and a total inability to concentrate.

  “Hey.” Leah looked up as he perched on the edge of her desk. Not Sloane’s—that would have been far too obvious. “Can I get either of you two ladies a drink?”

  Leah beamed up at him. “Cappuccino, one shot of caramel, extra froth, and can you sprinkle some of that cocoa powder on the top?”

  “I’m not a fucking barista. Sloane?”

  “Huh?”

  Well, that was disappointing. She wasn’t even looking at him. Deliberate avoidance? Or did she just have a better game face than he did?

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “Oh, uh, thanks.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Mmm.”

  This was more than messing around. What was up with her? Logan hopped off the desk and moved across a few feet to stand behind the woman who napalmed every one of his nerve endings.

  “You okay?”

  She kept staring at her computer screen. Facebook?

  “I got a message.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “A strange one.”

  Since she didn’t seem to object, Logan leaned forward to read it.

  Hey Sloane!

  Saw your profile on DateMe.com, but my account got terminated before I got a chance to hit you up. But then I found you on here! Fate, huh? Anyhow, I was wondering if you wanna go for a drink later?

  As Logan watched, another box popped up.

  Or how about tomorrow? Or the weekend? Anytime? I live just along the road from you.

  “How did he find me on Facebook?” Sloane asked. “Why would he do that when there are a million other girls out there?”

  Logan forced his jaw to unclench before he cracked a tooth. “I’m more concerned with the fact that he knows where you live.”

  Sloane had never had the darkest of complexions, probably because she spent most of her time in the office, but now she turned a shade paler.

  “He can’t know exactly where I live. I don’t put my address on Facebook.”

  Logan’s fingers brushed hers as he took the mouse out of her hand and scrolled through her profile page.

  “You’ve got a picture of the front of your house. A check-in for brunch with the dickhead at the pancake place on Rosemount which is less than a mile away. A request for recommendations for a good lawn ser
vice that comes to your street. Anyone driving around that neighbourhood could find you in fifteen minutes.”

  The last of her colour drained from her cheeks. “What should I do?”

  “Delete all this, for starters.” Logan didn’t wait for her to do it herself, just began removing posts.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a teensy bit alarmist?” Leah asked.

  Where Sloane was concerned? “No.”

  “It’s only a message.”

  “And what the hell does a guy do to get his membership terminated from a dating site?”

  “Uh…” Leah clicked around on her own computer for a few seconds. “Okay, termination… ‘Here at DateMe.com, we like to keep our terms simple. Anyone discussing or posting pictures of bestiality, paedophilia, extreme violence, scat or golden showers, fisting, or bloodletting will have their membership revoked.’ On second thought, why don’t you delete Sloane’s whole Facebook account?”

  “Fuck,” Logan muttered. “Did you take her dating profile down?”

  “Right after she asked me to.” Sloane turned her screen to prove it. “See?”

  Oh, this just got better and better. Leah had lifted Sloane’s Facebook profile picture to use as her headshot on the dating site. Anyone with Google could do a reverse image search and match the two. He tightened his grip on the mouse to stop himself from throttling the perky blonde.

  “Sloane, you need to get a security system installed.”

  “But I live in a rented house. I can’t start messing around with drills and stuff.”

  “Well, you need something. I’ll speak to Nate.”

  “Do you really think it’s a problem? Leah’s right—it’s just a message. The guy probably sends twenty a day.”

  “I’m not taking that chance.”

  Leah tilted her head to one side and looked at him funny. “Why do you even care?”

  Shit. Busted. Reeling in Sloane would be hard enough without the whole office watching their every move. Logan shifted closer to Leah and put an arm around her shoulders. “Because here at Blackwood, we’re a team, and we look after each other. I’d do the same for you, except Sloane wouldn’t be dumb enough to plaster your details all over the internet.”