by Liliana Hart
“Yeah, that never works out well.” His mind shifted to Gage and Hallie, his best friends from Quantico. They were a perfect example of how a shift from partners to lovers could blow a career to hell and back.
“Why?”
“The Bureau frowns on agent fraternization. Best case scenario it leads to a transfer, worst case a censorship.”
“Oh.” She settled back against his shoulder and cuddled closer.
Trying to ignore the way his dick was trying to bore its way through the bedding, he stroked a hand down her chest to cup her breast. “What about you? Anyone serious?”
“No.” She left it at that.
But Logan wanted more. He wanted to know everything about her, every guy she dated since they’d parted ways. And then he wanted their addresses so he could hunt them down and beat the living shit out of them. A wry smile curved his lips at the aggressive impulse. He would never have guessed he was capable of jealousy.
His mind turned to that damned hug he’d witness the week before in her parking lot. He was pretty sure that Meechum didn’t have designs on her, but she was pretty damn comfortable around the man, which said a lot, considering he was a cop.
“Nobody in town?” He nudged the conversation in the direction he was interested, and frowned at the silent shake to her head. Okay, obviously he was going to have to be more direct. “What about Meechum?”
“Doug?” She laughed, like she thought he was joking and then glanced at his face. “Oh my God, you’re serious.” He didn’t have to say anything; she apparently read the answer on his face. She grimaced and made a gagging sound. “That’s just gross.”
The sheer disbelief and disgust on her face banished that particular demon of jealousy instantly.
He laughed and tugged her closer. “Come on, he’s not that bad. And you seem pretty damn friendly with him.” He shrugged ruefully at the questioning look she shot him. “I saw you hugging him last week in front of your clinic.”
“Oh.” She was silent a second and he could almost hear the debate raging in her head over how much to tell him. “I think... I think he had a thing going on with mom after she left my dad.”
He mulled that over, and several details clicked into place. Like Meechum’s knowledge and interest in Francisca Armund’s disappearance. His closeness to the family, so close he’d bought Kaylea a puppy and then watched it grown into a dog. His protectiveness towards the daughter of the woman he’d likely loved.
The age difference, though. “He would have been quite a bit younger than your mom.”
She simply nodded, her hair sliding silkily against the skin of his shoulder. He stirred uneasily as his prick began to throb.
“I think he was in his early twenties and mom was thirty-six. His parents lived next door, but I swear he spent more time at our house than his. I didn’t pick up on it until later.”
“You were young,” Logan said comforting. “Twelve, right?”
She started to nod and then went still against him. Tucking her chin against her chest, she stared down. “Douglass told you what happened, didn’t he?”
He frowned. How had she had picked up on— oh yeah, he wouldn’t have known her age back then unless he’d been well versed in the story. “Yeah, he did. Albright and your father have a lot to answer for.”
That brought her head up. Dark, wary eyes clung to his face. “You know Stuart Albright.”
Logan’s mouth tightened grimly. “A little. He comes into the station sometimes. The guy’s an asshole.”
Thank Christ he wasn’t the one who had to deal with the bastard. That was Stone’s job, just one of the perks of the glass office.
Her eyes widened a bit more with each word that came out of his mouth. “He’s the police chief.”
“Was the police chief,” Logan reminded her with a shrug. “And that doesn’t make him any less of an asshole.”
He stroked her back, wallowing in the way she seemed to melt into him with each brush of his hand. She was silent for so long, he thought she might have fallen asleep. Then she suddenly blurted out, “Doug thinks my dad’s back.”
His hand paused and then started back in with that slow gentle glide. “So I heard.”
She fell silent again.
“I’m sorry about your mom. That must have been terrible for you.” His voice flattened. “Did Meechum tell you we’re reopening the investigation?”
She lifted her head, her face startled and eyes wide. “Why? It happened a long time ago.”
“Because if Albright lied, if that alibi was bogus and he let your dad walk, then he needs to pay.”
From the shock on her face, that sentiment was apparently the last thing she expected to hear. “He was right.” The whisper was so low, he barely heard it. “You are a good guy. You are different. Maybe...”
Before he had a chance to ask what she meant, the words tumbled out, as though they’d been balled up inside her for so long that she couldn’t slow them down, couldn’t call them back.
“Max saved my life,” she said abruptly. Her body went rigid, where seconds ago it had been pliant.
He waited for her to scramble away, put some distance between them, but she lay there instead—tense as hell, but still resting against him. That had to be a good sign. Why this conversation had her so wound up was the million dollar question, though. He couldn’t disagree that the dog was a hero.
“He might well have,” Logan agreed comfortably. “He drove your attacker off and summoned help. Who knows how long you would have been lying out there otherwise.”
“I’m not talking about last week.” Her voice was tight. “I’m talking about before.”
Before...
“As in seventeen years ago?” he asked just as quietly. The small, forlorn nod of her head made his heart ache. “You were there? The day your dad disappeared?”
She nodded again and took a deep raw breath. “It was my fault.”
He sincerely doubted that, but he held his tongue and let her get it out, in her own way, at her own speed. Something told him she’d caged this information up for years.
“Lina had watched him hide an envelope beneath the floorboards in the kitchen, so late that night, after he passed out, she pulled the rug back, pulled up the floorboard, and looked inside the envelope. It was full of hundred dollar bills.”
Pulled the floorboards up in the kitchen...
Logan went still, the holes in the floor of his rental flashing through his mind. Hell, Meechum had been right; somebody was looking for the money.
“Do you know where he got the envelope?” The question emerged by habit, but then he kicked himself, afraid it would throw her off track.
“From the gray car. It came every week, and the driver would give dad an envelope.” There was a simplistic, almost childish cadence to her voice, as though she was watching the scene through the window of her childhood. “Only there was a big argument that time, and when the car left, dad was so angry. Lina was huddled on the porch swing, next to the kitchen window, only he didn’t see her. He stomped into the kitchen, pulled up the little rug beneath the table, and jerked out this loose floorboard. Lina said he dropped the envelope inside the hole and covered everything back up again. Then he locked himself in the study. We hid upstairs in Lina’s room and watched Nightmare on Elm Street on Lina’s little television aunt Jessa had given her for her birthday.” Her voice fell silent and then she sighed. “Later Lina woke me up and showed me the envelope. It was full of money. She said there were more envelopes. Lots more. She wanted to leave right then. Run away. We could have lived on that money forever.”
There was a wistful quality to the last sentence, and a childish innocence, as though she had regressed to that twelve-year-old girl.
“You didn’t leave.” It wasn’t a question. The answer was obvious.
“No.” She glanced up for the first time and met his gaze; her own was so dark it looked almost black and liquid with grief. “We’d watched Nightmare o
n Elm Street, and it was after midnight. There was no moon, and it was so dark out. But we went into the kitchen and took all the money and hid it in Lina’s backpack.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened next. Meechum had said there had been blood everywhere and Kaylea’s dog had had died on the scene. “Your dad caught you.”
“Yeah. And he was mad. Angrier than I’d ever seen him.” Her voice dropped to a raw whisper. “He was carrying a gun. He pointed it at me and just started pulling the trigger.”
Jesus Christ.
Logan bolted straight up, his heart suddenly throbbing in his throat. She sent him the saddest little smile he’d ever seen.
“Max leapt up, straight at him, and took every one of those bullets meant for me. Then he crashed into dad, knocking the gun from his hand. ”
“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice raw, Logan cradled her against his chest.
He could almost feel the grief pouring out of her. No wonder she was so emotionally invested in the golden retriever in the next room.
“Did you shoot him? Your dad?”
He would have. Hell, if he could go back in time and walk into that kitchen, he’d fire as many bullets into the bastard as he’d tried to fire into Kaylea.
She’d been a child, for Christ sake. He wrestled back his rage. Nothing he could do about it now. The motherfucker was long gone.
Maybe…
He frowned, the holes in the walls and floor of his rental flashing through his mind.
She shook her head, that sad, lost look still raw in her eyes. “I didn’t. Lina did. She shot him twice. But I didn’t stop her. Not either time.”
He cupped her face and pressed a long, gentle kiss against her trembling lips. When he pulled back, he held her gaze steadily. “What happened was not your fault.”
“But if I had left, when Lina wanted to. If I hadn’t—”
He kissed her again, a little harder this time, a little longer, with a lot more tongue. When he lifted his head again, her face was flushed and hunger had chased the guilt from her eyes. “Repeat after me. Not. Your. Fault.”
She managed a smile, and her gaze drifted down to his lips. “I think I need some more convincing.”
His dick leapt at that blatant invitation. There were still a couple questions lingering. Like how they’d gotten their father’s body into the woods to bury him, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that puzzle considering all the hints Meechum had dropped.
There was little doubt the detective was involved.
But that could wait until later. Still cupping her face, he kissed her again and leaned over, pressing her into the mattress.
And did his best to convince her.
Epilogue
Mid-morning two days later, beneath the sheltering branches of a huge pine tree, Logan dug the tip of a shovel into the ground.
“You’re certain you want to do this?” he asked, his voice both gentle and understanding.
Kaylea nodded emphatically, and cleared her throat. “Ye-no.”
She swallowed hard and stared down into the trusting eyes of the dog sitting beside her. His furry butt started wiggling the moment she caught his gaze.
“Kaylea?”
“I’m thinking.”
What would happen if there was a skeleton inside the grave beneath the tip of Logan’s shovel? Would she feel guilty that her love for this golden retriever was indistinguishable from what she felt for her Max Midnight, avenger of injustice, her hero from seventeen years ago? Would it weaken her joy in the animal by her side?
Goldens were sensitive animals. If this wasn’t the same dog and her feelings for him shifted, and she pulled back, he’d sense it. He didn’t deserve that kind of confusion. He was a hero too, after all. He’d run her attacker off and brought Logan to her aid.
On the other hand, what if there wasn’t a skeleton inside the grave? Would that prove anything?
No. It wouldn’t.
Seventeen years had come and gone, and these woods were full of scavengers. His grave could have been raided years ago. And if he really was Max, if he had returned to her, what would that make him? A clone? A physical apparition? She shook her head as the certainty sank deep.
She didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t. He was her hero, either way.
Squatting, she wrapped her arms around the thick golden neck and hugged the dog tight. When she straightened, she smiled at the man across from her. The man who’d made her quiver and melt and quite possibly fall in love the night before.
“Let’s go home,” she said, reaching for his hand. Side by side they headed back to the SUV he’d parked across the field.
Just before they stepped out of the shadow of Spirit Woods and into the sunlight, a faint sound reached Kaylea’s ears.
Logan stopped. Turning, he scanned the twisting shadows behind them. “Do you hear that?”
“Yeah.” Kaylea concentrated. It was the strangest sound. Hollow and disjoined, like a thousand indecipherable voices all whispering at once. If she listened hard enough, though, if she concentrated, she could almost make out words... vibrant colorful words... they swam across her mind.
“Son of a bitch.” The curse ruptured the whispers and hung like a taunt in the still air. His face tense, Logan lunged for the blue collar circling Max’s neck.
“What’s wrong?” Kaylea asked, her head swimming. The strangest electrical buzzing filled her head. She swayed slightly, off balance, like she’d suddenly lost her equilibrium.
“Look.” Still holding Max’s collar, he gestured toward the trees.
Kaylea fought to focus. She glanced at the dog first. His tail was wagging, ears perked, his gaze locked in the direction Logan had indicated, but he wasn’t trying to escape Logan’s hold.
Frowning, she turned to Spirit Woods and found it awash in color. Vibrant, seething colors. Sapphire, amethyst, ruby and emerald—along with dozens of hues in-between. The colors waxed and waned, darkened and brightened, twined around the trees and snaked between tree trunks.
Kaylea stood transfixed—the buzzing whispers stronger than ever, spinning colorful webs in her mind.
“Get back.” Logan grabbed Kaylea’s arm and backed up, dragging Max with them. Kaylea stumbled along beside him.
The forest floor was seething, a jeweled kaleidoscope on fire.
Logan’s hand tightened like a vice around her arm and tugged her into the clearing. And then the sun was warm on her face.
The colors brightened to a silver-white hue and vanished. Instantly the buzzing whispers ceased.
“What, what?” Kaylea stared, but the forest interior was darker than ever, so dark the shadows were gone, dissolved by a lack of definition.
“Have you seen them before?” Logan’s voice was tense, his eyes scanning the woods from floor to canopy.”
“Just once, the day we buried Max...” Her voice trailed off and prickles raced down her arms.
He frowned, digesting that. “Next time we come out here, remind me to bring the leash.”
His hand still grasping Max’s collar, he struck out for his cruiser in a bent shuffle.
Kaylea’s heart softened as she followed him. “Here, let me take him. I’m shorter than you.”
He gave her a half-smile and kept walking. “I’m expecting a backrub when we get home.”
That brought a laugh. “Deal.”
She glanced behind them a couple times as they walked, relieved to see the lights hadn’t returned. What would have happened if Max had raced into the woods? Would he have vanished in that explosion of silver brilliance?
And what of the buzzing, and the vague whispers? They were connected to the lights; logically she knew that. But the memory already felt ancient, unreal, as though it were nothing but a dream in the distant past.
When they reached Logan’s SUV he opened the rear door and ushered Max inside. After closing it, he paused to straighten and arch his spine. Then he
turned to stare across the field.
Kaylea turned to stare as well. And damn if... chills raked her spine, and prickled along her scalp... Damn if Spirit Woods didn’t seem to be staring back... A dark mysterious swath of blue, black, and green, daring them to unearth its secrets.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Spirit Woods.
If you’d like to read more books set in the Spirit Woods’ world, you may be interested in Awaken.
Awaken, the first full length novel set in the Spirit Woods’ world, will release February 15th of 2015, with preorder pages going up mid-November.
You can find out more about Awaken, along with the rest of the books I’ve written, by visiting www.trishmccallan.com.
I love to hear from my readers and make a point of answering every email I receive. If you have any questions or comments feel free to email me at [email protected].
Acknowledgements
This project would never have happened without the vision and organizational skills of Robin Perini—mad props to her for taking this project on.
A special thanks to Rachel Grant for her ninja formatting skills!
Since this box set would not have been possible without the participation of my very talented fellow authors, my thanks go out to the following:
Liliana Hart
Darynda Jones
Shea Berkley
Dakota Cassidy
Claire Cavanaugh
Rachel Grant
Angi Morgan
Robin Perini
Robyn Peterman
Ann Voss Peterson
Jenn Stark
BODYGUARDS IN HEELS:
HIT & RUN HALLIE
Angi Morgan
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
