Reunited in Danger (10 page)

“We go back a long way, that’s all. We went out in high school.” He sighed. “I dumped
her and broke her heart.”

“And broke your own, too, from what I could tell today by how focused you were on
her.”

Logan let out a long breath. Quinn and Dunnigan were two friends who knew him well
enough to let him vent. “Her mom thought I was bad for her and convinced me that joining
the Marines was the best option for us both, so I up and left. Keely has hated me
because of that ever since. Until Ben was hurt, we hadn’t spoken in ten years.” He
hesitated. “Just before Mrs. Beyer was shot, Keely told me her dad finally spilled
the truth about why I left.”

Dunnigan nodded and focused on heating his hands. “You going to ask her out now, or
what?”

“No. Keely’s mom wanted what was best for her daughter. Fact was, I agreed. She needed
more than I could ever give her. A chance at happiness. Even now.”

“Even now? You sure about that, pal?” Dunnigan stopped rubbing his hands and faced
him. “You made detective faster than anyone I know. You make more arrests in a year
than most. People respect you. Why couldn’t you be somebody who’s good for her now?”

Logan grimaced. “I haven’t changed. The reason her mom convinced me to get out of
her life was because I had a temper. I beat the shit out of a kid. She wants a family
of her own. Her own father has made that clear to me, and I’ve seen how she takes
care of the kids she works with. I can’t give her that. I’m not husband or parent
material. I don’t deserve to be a father.”

“Because of your dad?” Dunnigan asked.

Images of his father—the drunken beatings for no reason, the belt coming down on his
bare legs, his mother’s bruised and battered face—shot through his mind. These traits
traveled from generation to generation. He’d found that out the hard way.

“As much as I’d like to believe I could overcome my past, prove I can be better than
my father, that isn’t happening.” He faced Dunnigan. “It’s more than the kid I beat
up in high school, or the allegations last winter of excessive force.”

Dunnigan shot him a hard look. “You’re talking about the boy in Afghanistan.”

Logan swore quietly. The kid’s face was forever burned in his brain. “That episode
is proof I can’t control my temper.”

“Let it go. Live your life.”

Everyone else always let him off the hook. Forgave him. But he wouldn’t forgive himself.
He couldn’t.

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He threw the SUV into gear. “Better get you to the station
and get my ass into a meeting with the captain so I can explain the details of this
shooting today.”

“Fine. Go ahead. Change the subject.”

“Tell me about those two church friends of Ben’s.” He hadn’t expected his friend to
get additional information out of the two church employees when he’d suggested to
Dunnigan to speak with the men. He was more interested in Dunnigan’s gut opinion of
them. His friend’s background included a psychology degree. Specifically, human behavior.

“Dave and Charlie are tough to figure out. They seem willing to help. Dave likes to
run things, likes to be in charge. Charlie’s not too bright, and seems to be more
of a background guy.”

“With something to hide,” Logan said, steering the SUV into traffic. “He refused to
open his briefcase for us when we asked.”

“The church angle and briefcases are likely a dead end. With Mrs. Beyer’s shooting,
Ben’s attack is looking more and more like he interrupted a robbery by local drug
dealers.”

“Yeah. I was starting to figure the same thing. Thanks. I appreciate your help. I
want to see this case wrapped up before I head out of town,” he said.

“Taking the desk job in Texas?”

Logan was thankful when his cell phone rang just then. He pulled it out to look at
the display. “It’s Jacko.”

“Your snitch?” Dunnigan asked.

“His information was no good the other day. Let’s see if he has anything interesting
this time.”

Chapter Nine

Keely left her father under Beatrice’s care and headed upstairs to take a shower,
her heart aching at the glazed look on her father’s face. Now, in spite of her earlier
desperate need to cry, the hot water steamed away her raw emotions and the heat eased
her physical and mental pains. Her gut curled with pain, but the tears wouldn’t come.

The briefcase…a missing girl…a beating…a shooting. Too much bad, not enough good.

Frustrated, she turned off the water, dried off, then threw on a pair of old jeans
and a soft sweatshirt and headed back down to the living room.

Her dad’s bloodshot eyes halted her in place. She bit her bottom lip and pressure
built in her head—the tears that wanted to flow. She nodded to Beatrice and sat on
the end of the sofa closest to her dad’s recliner.

He stared at the television in a daze.

“Dad,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Is there anything you need?”

Her father sighed and shook a finger at her. “You don’t need to hover over me. You
should stay the night, though. I know today was hard on you, too. It’s safe here.
Beatrice has a gun, you know.”

Beatrice thumped the gun at her side. “And I raised two teenage boys. Trust me, I
can handle anything.”

Keely smiled for the first time all day. “Dave offered to come over again. He said
he’d spend the night, if you need him.”

“No, don’t bother him,” her dad said, yawning. He leaned his head against the cushioned
chair. He’d probably be asleep in an hour.

She thought about Logan’s words earlier. Anyone who wasn’t ruled out as a suspect
was
a suspect. The entire congregation, not to mention all of their neighbors and friends,
would remain suspects until the police were able to eliminate them.

Her dad tried to lift the edges of his mouth to form a small smile, but didn’t succeed.
“I called the hospital,” he said, folding his hands over his robe. “Margaret is in
a coma. The bullet was something called a through and through. It’s the injury to
her skull—possibly her brain—that put her in a coma.”

Keely pinched the bridge of her nose. A visual of Margaret’s body slamming against
the brick exterior raced through her mind. She steadied herself with a deep breath.
“She’s a fighter, Dad. She makes the world a better place by standing up to injustice.
Maybe a coma is her body’s way of forcing her to rest for a few days. I’ll check on
her tomorrow. She might not know I’m there, but I will be.”

“Thanks, honey.” He braced his arms on the side of the chair, struggling to stand.
Once erect, he kissed her cheek. “I’m going to bed now.”

She hugged him gently, aware of his bruised body and heart. “Goodnight, Dad. I love
you.”

“Love you, too.” He shuffled along the floor and out of sight.

She moved her laptop into the dining room and busied herself checking e-mails and
phone messages. There were three messages from Nevaeh asking how she was doing. She
texted her friend, assured her she was okay, and set to work. She and Logan hadn’t
had a chance to visit the jail today, and if Ricardo Padilla had been able to come
up with bail money, he might be home by now.

Children deserved a chance, and if their parents wouldn’t give it to them, then Keely
would do her best for them. Her mind kept coming back to the little girl who was missing.
She had to find her.

Her cell phone rang. Nevaeh.

“What’s up?” She leaned back in the dining room chair and stretched to get the kinks
out of her body.

“I know you’ve had a terrible day, and I hate to make it rougher…”

Keely bolted upright. Not more bad news. “What is it?”

“Remember the abusive dad in court the other day? The one with the kids named Ava
and Tommy?”

Of course she remembered. She’d been livid at the judge’s decision. “Yes.” The word
came out breathy and hesitant, because she had a feeling she didn’t want this conversation
to continue. Didn’t want to know whatever it was Nevaeh had called to tell her.

“The dad reported Ava as a runaway a few hours ago.”

Keely’s gut lurched. “Another runaway?”

“I’ve alerted the police. Sorry, Keely. But I thought you’d want to know.”

Ava’s smiling face filled her mind. The little girl had done so well in her temporary
foster home. She’d had a real chance. “Thanks, Nevaeh. I appreciate the call.”

They disconnected and Keely stared despondently at her computer screen.

Beatrice walked by, a cup of coffee in hand. “Your dad’s snoring quietly, safe in
his bed,” she said. “I’m on my third cup of coffee and wide awake.”

“Thanks, Beatrice.” Thank God for that woman.

She could go upstairs to her old bedroom and stare at the ceiling all night. Because
there was no way after witnessing Margie’s shooting and getting the news about Ava
that she would get any sleep.

Or, she could go to Logan.

Give in to this growing need to be with him. He could make her forget this day of
bad events and terrible news.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. Craved the comfort of his arms.

She glanced up the stairs to her old bedroom door. She couldn’t be alone tonight,
but she couldn’t be with the man she wanted, either.

An inner voice whispered
Why not?

The things that had kept them apart didn’t exist any longer. He’d walked out on her,
but there had been a reason. All that was in the past.

But what was in the present was the fact that when things got tough, Logan North took
off. Ten years ago he’d left her when her mother had told him he should go, without
even telling her.

Logan gave up and solved his problems by leaving.

She’d been left too many times in the past and couldn’t bear to have a hole in her
life where Logan should be.

But she was damned tired of fighting the need to be with him. They’d each kept secrets
from each other, but they couldn’t any longer. Too much depended on honesty.

Besides, she’d learned something today. Something important. Margaret had lived life
the way she wanted to. And yet, one minute the woman was drinking tea on the living
room sofa, and the next, she’d been shot and lay near-dead against the wall of her
own home.

Life was too short. Too short for lies and secrets.

And for keeping feelings locked inside.

Keely packed up, grabbed her car keys from the hook near the front door, and rattled
them between her fingers.
Don’t be a sissy.

No chance. She’d go get what she wanted—what she needed.

Sure, Logan would leave. But he wasn’t leaving tonight.

“Beatrice, I’m going out for a bit.” She knew Logan’s address. Had noticed the address
in her dad’s contact list, the number and street forever burned in her mind.

The bodyguard scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “My cell number. Text me if
you’re not coming home tonight so I know you’re safe.”

Keely smiled. How the heck did she get so lucky to have so many wonderful people around
her? She’d been dealt a crappy biological family, but over and over again, people
came into her life and renewed her faith in mankind.

Ten minutes later, her head spun with indecision. Decelerating, she downshifted and
made the turn into Logan’s neighborhood, then steered her car to the front of his
row house. Common sense told her she should drive away as fast as possible.

No.

She wanted to be with him tonight. In every possible way a man and woman could be
together. Her hands shook at the thought of touching him…of his hands on her body.
Nervous or not, she was going to see this through.

Margaret’s shooting had brought out an urgency for living life in the moment. Love
could disappear so fast. Sure, they hadn’t resolved all of their issues from the past,
but right now, she didn’t care. She needed him right now.

She lifted her chin and slammed the car door.

To hell with common sense.

…

Logan planted his second empty beer bottle of the night on the scratched coffee table.
The day had been a wreck. He’d wanted to stay with Keely, to hold her and comfort
her, but he’d had to back off. Give her the space she wanted. But Christ, how he hated
being away from her.

A knock on the door jolted his attention from the television. Pressing the MUTE button
on the old black and white western, he stood, heartbeat accelerating. Nobody knocked
this time of night unless there was trouble. He grabbed his Glock and walked to the
door.

Squinting through the peephole, he spotted Keely, wearing a fragile-looking smile
and holding a six-pack of beer. Surprise and lust kicked him in the gut. His muscles
tensed. Could he really trust himself to be alone with her? He ran a hand through
his hair, still wet from an earlier shower, then unlocked the deadbolt.

He yanked the door open. “What are you doing in this neighborhood after dark? You
should have called so I could watch for you.”

She must have expected his greeting, because she whizzed past him and headed for the
couch with the six-pack. She left a heavenly trail of vanilla behind her. “Hello to
you, too.”

No, no, no! This would not work.

He put his weapon in a drawer and stared at her as she cracked open a beer and settled
on the couch as if she visited him every day. As if she belonged there.

Wishing she didn’t look so good in a pair of worn jeans and an old red University
of Maryland sweatshirt, he slammed the door and set the lock.

“Keely.” He stood by the door, afraid to trust himself around her. He had to keep
her at a distance. As teens, he’d been too wild for her, as adults, he couldn’t give
her what she wanted.

Anger grew in his gut. What if she’d been attacked in his own neighborhood, on her
way to see him, and he’d been inside watching a movie? He faced her, using his best
cop tone. “Do you know how many muggings there were on the next block last month?”
He could have bought a house in a safer neighborhood, but he liked the fact everyone
knew he was a cop. His presence kept crime down on this block. But he’d never expected
women to come over at odd hours in the night.

She didn’t even have the grace to look chastened as she took a swig of beer and shrugged.
“So, I see you still like Louis L’Amour movies.” She smiled and pointed at the television
screen with her beer bottle.

He forced himself to take a slow, calming breath, counting to ten.

“Logan?” A furrow formed between her brows and she stood. Her long brown hair, damp
from the rain, clung to the sides of her face. A loose tendril fell across her cheek.

He wanted to step forward, brush it aside, grab her face in both hands, and kiss the
hell out of her.

“Why didn’t you return my calls when I reached out to you a few years ago?”

So that was why she was here. To finish the conversation they’d started earlier, before
the street outside her dad’s house had erupted in chaos.

She set her bottle on the table and took a step closer to him.

His gaze dropped to follow her pink-painted fingertips as she reached for the hem
of her sweatshirt. Surprise shot through him as she yanked it over her head, tossing
it to the sofa. She wore a thin beige halter and no bra. He stared at the pert outline
of her nipples, and his mouth went dry.
Oh, holy shit
.

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he forced his eyes higher and stared back
at her. But focusing on her eyes didn’t do him much good. Her blue eyes sparkled in
the dim lamp light, sending him signals he knew only too well.

She hadn’t come over solely to get the answers to her questions. She’d come here to
seduce him. And God help him, he didn’t know if he had the strength to resist.

He could arrest murderers and capture the scum of society with his bare hands, but
Keely had always overpowered him. The trick was going to be not to let her know it.
The issues of their past may be over and done, but they had no future. Not the way
he saw things.

“I was busy. Work,” he said. His arousal pressed against his jeans and he clenched
his fists at his sides. Damn. Suddenly he found it hard to concentrate.

“So you said. What if I told you I don’t believe you?” She stepped closer.

He refused to back up.

A mistake.

With both hands, she slowly unbuttoned the top of her jeans, holding her fingers on
the clasp, ready to unzip them. “And what if I told you that right now, just for this
moment, I’m going to forget about how you ignored those calls? I’m giving you a free
pass.”

Soon he’d be past the point of reasoning with her. Or himself. His gaze lingered on
those hands and his pants got tighter. This slow strip tease might kill him, but at
least he’d die happy. He tried to clear the sudden fog in his brain. “Keely,” he said,
his voice straining, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

She unzipped her jeans, revealing low-rise black underwear. “I know that now,” she
whispered. She closed the distance between them and took both his hands in hers. With
her gaze holding him hostage, she guided his hands to the hem of her halter, sliding
them up the sides of her waist, then slowed at her ribcage.

Her soft skin tantalized him, made him want more. Touching her like this would never
be enough. She moved his hands higher, and his palms rubbed over her taut nipples.

He could slide away. He
should
slide away, stuff his hands in his pockets, and keep them there, tell her to leave.

But then she lifted her mouth to his and pressed her slim frame against his with the
front door bracing them both.

Damn it all to hell!
He gave in to need and slid his tongue between her lips. Her warm mouth, the beer
and peppermint taste, sent electricity through every muscle and bone in his body.
He’d wanted her so badly for so long, and now she was here, offering herself, giving
him everything he’d wanted. He didn’t deserve her. God help him, he couldn’t say no.