Midnight Sins (19 page)

rather than sitting in front of a fire in the house?” Rafe

shot him a disgruntled look. “Didn’t we just spend

three days opening the house and moving you in?”

And it had sucked, too. Every day neighbors had

glared at them from porches or through their windows.

Old men had shot them the finger while teenage boys

steered a wide path around them. It was more than

apparent they weren’t welcome and they sure as hell

weren’t wanted.

“I was bored.” Logan shrugged, his expression

smoothing out to cool disregard.

“Try again,” Rafe snorted. “Why are you here?”

Sure, he was bored, but his cousin had ridden

over thirty miles in a blizzard on a snowmobile. The

fact that Crowe had tinkered enough with the engine

to make the vehicle capable of it didn’t mean it wasn’t

still a damned dumb decision.

Logan leaned back against the inside of the bar

counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared

back at Rafe quietly. Behind him, the darkened living

room reflected the fiery red glow of the coals in the

fireplace and the large oil portrait of Rafe and his

mother when he had been three, standing at her knee.

With long blond hair, dark blue eyes, and

porcelain, delicate skin his mother had been Corbin

County’s homecoming queen her senior year in high

school, voted most likely to succeed, and was

considered one of the most beautiful young women in

the county.

Her father had commissioned the portrait when

she was eighteen. It had taken three years for the

artist to get to it. When she’d insisted on including her

son, he’d refused to complete payment. Her mother’s

older brother Clyde had paid for it instead and hung it

over the fireplace.

As she was elegant, considerate, and

compassionate, it was often hard to imagine she was

actually a part of the cutthroat, icy-eyed Roberts clan.

Sometimes, Rafe had heard his father joke, he

believed his mother-in-law must have had a lover who

fathered Ann Roberts Callahan, because there was

no way in hell the heartless Marshal Roberts could

have fathered a child so beautiful and warm-hearted.

But Rafe had always heard how Marshal had spoiled

and adored his daughter. And how he’d fallen into a

drunken rage the night she eloped with Sam

Callahan.

Logan shifted, drawing Rafe’s attention back to

him. “I tried to call, but the phones aren’t getting

reception and the land lines are down somewhere

between here and town. I thought I’d head out and

check on you.” He made it sound as though he had

done Rafe a favor.

“In a blizzard?” Rafe arched his brow quizzically.

That wasn’t like his cousin. “What happened Logan?”

Rafe could feel the suspicion building inside him

stronger now. He knew Logan, and he knew that was

bullshit.

“You heard from Crowe lately?” his cousin asked

rather than answering the question.

“This morning. He met me out at one of the line

shacks to check the condition of it. He seemed fine

and didn’t mention any problems. Do we have any

problems?” They sure as hell didn’t need any.

Logan shook his head. “Probably just my

paranoia,” he finally sighed. “Or the fact I’m the one in

town and easier to access.”

“No doubt it’s ‘not’ your paranoia,” Rafe growled.

“What was it?”

He grimaced. “Someone was in the house while I

was out at the grocery this morning. When I returned,

the tape placed at the top of the door had been

moved and replaced and the strand of hair in the lock

was gone.”

“That doesn’t sound like paranoia to me, Logan,”

Rafe growled. “What makes you think it could be?”

Logan’s lips thinned. “Because nothing was on

the security camera but the neighbor kid knocking. If

he was messing with my locks at the same time, I

might have to kill him.”

Rafe hid a smile. The boy, Logan’s neighbor’s

brother, had decided to torment Logan however

possible.

“Maybe he’s bored,” Rafe suggested with

mocking sobriety.

“Yeah, fucking bored,” Logan grunted with a roll

of his eyes. “Or maybe he has a death wish I could

accommodate.”

Rafe stilled his laughter as he watched the

irritation that settled in his cousin’s expression.

“Do you have any idea what he wanted?” Rafe

asked as he fixed his cousin’s coffee and slid it

across the counter.

“No, to aggravate the hell out of me, maybe?

Neighbors are damned sassy, though. All but the kid’s

sister that lives next to me. Fucking night owl.” Logan

almost grinned.

Evidently that fucking night owl had managed to

entertain his cousin in some way.

“Why would the kid care enough to try to pick

your lock?”

“For the hell of it? Because he’s a damned

teenager?” Logan grunted after sipping at the coffee,

then turned and moved to the table.

Before sitting down, Logan stared at the wood

table top for a long, thoughtful moment. “You fucked

her on the table, didn’t you, cuz?” There was an edge

of irritated resignation that Rafe sensed stemmed

from the neighbor kid’s sister.

Rafe merely lifted his cup and sipped at his

second cup of strong coffee that night. If this kept up,

then he was going to start drinking decaf. No wonder

his chest was tight with a sense of foreboding.

“Drink your coffee, Logan.” Rafe almost allowed

himself to grin. “You can sleep in the downstairs guest

room tonight. We’ll check out the house in the

morning.” Hell, he’d hoped to get out of letting Cami

know about the snowmobile.

Logan stared back at him mockingly. “Storm is

supposed to last three days, with a healthy helping of

four to maybe six more feet before it’s over, and up to

three days to dig out if the temperature stays in the

teens as they’re predicting. You really want to lose

your houseguest that soon?” Logan’s smile was

knowing as he continued.

“I’m fairly certain she doesn’t know about your

snowmobile, or she wouldn’t be upstairs in your bed.

You’d be on the road trying to navigate the storm and

your lust.”

Sucked when someone knew you as well as he

and his cousins knew each other.

Rafe sipped at his coffee again, refusing to

comment as Logan sat back in his chair and watched

him with silent amusement.

“What are you getting yourself into, Rafe?” he

finally asked him again the amusement dissipating.

“Have you thought about this? Have you thought about

how old she is? The same age as Jaymi—”

“Enough, Logan.” He glared back at his cousin. “I

won’t think about Jaymi. Not tonight.”

Logan rubbed his hand over his face wearily.

“She’s the wrong woman,” he finally growled. “Her

father will come after you shooting when he finds out.

Are you going to shoot back? Could you shoot back if

she were watching?”

“There will be no shooting,” Rafe promised him.

“Her father’s in Aspen and he doesn’t come back to

Sweetrock very often. Her mother’s health isn’t that

good any longer.”

Not that Mark Flannigan had ever taken much

interest in his younger daughter. It had been Jaymi

that he had shown his love to, and only Jaymi.

Logan shook his head. He was aware of the lack

of concern Mark had always shown Cami, especially

the summer Jaymi had died. “If she were my

daughter, there’s no way in hell I’d sit still while she

was in possible danger. Flannigan could end up

fooling us.”

“Yeah, and I believe in fairy tales, too,” Rafe

drawled cynically. “Trust me, Flannigan’s not going to

go to the trouble.”

“And I’m telling you, fucking her is going to rain

hell down on you.”

Logan warned him. “For God’s sake, Rafe—”

“Let it go, Logan. As you said, once the storm is

over she’ll be gone and she’ll pretend it never

happened, just as she has every other time.”

“And the next time the two of you have five

minutes alone you’re ripping each other’s clothes off

and fucking like minks on top of the kitchen table,”

Logan reminded him. “Does that tell you anything?”

“I was too drunk to ignore my hard dick?” Rafe

shot back.

“Or too damned stupid to ignore it.” Logan

finished his coffee before rising to his feet. Moving to

the heavy winter wear he’d taken off after entering the

house he told Rafe, “I’m heading to Crowe’s. I doubt

very seriously he has a woman in his bed tonight. It

would surprise the hell out of me to even learn he’d

stayed in the county. That boy ain’t happy to be back.

And here he’s the one that talked us into coming

back.”

“Why did we come back?” Rafe asked, refusing

to stand, knowing how Logan could be. He could get

ready to leave fifty times before ever making it out of

the door. Knowing Logan as well as Rafe did how and

much colder the mountains were as one moved

higher into them, he knew damned good and well

Logan had probably regretted heading out no sooner

than he passed the city limits. Logan was hell for

doing his job, no matter how hot or how cold. He was

a one-man tracking/killing machine. But he liked his

creature comforts and didn’t leave them unless he

simply didn’t have a choice.

In his mind, he’d had no choice. He couldn’t

reach Rafe by phone and he was determined to

ensure his safety. But now he knew his cousin was

safe, he’d be damned slow about leaving.

“Why don’t you drop the damned coat and stay

here tonight,” Rafe growled as Logan looked outside

at the snow and gave a heavy sigh. “If Cami sees you

or the snowmobile, then just tell her you’re on your way

to Crowe’s and not heading back to town until

everything melts enough to drive in.”

That would keep her here without her anger

affecting Rafe’s pleasure. And he did intend to have

his pleasure until he couldn’t keep her there another

second longer.

“That will work.” Logan dropped the coat, but he

wasn’t making a move to leave the kitchen.

“What now?” Rafe asked him.

Logan stared back at him, his eyes so hard, so

cold, that Rafe wondered if his cousin ever felt warm

inside anymore. He definitely didn’t act as though he

did.

“You in love with her?” Logan finally asked before

giving his head a hard negative jerk as he grimaced.

“Yeah, you are,” he answered his own question. “You

have been since that first night you spent with her.”