Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(17)
He followed two suits out of the elevator and eyed the brunette behind the large, curved reception desk that read METRO FINANCIAL across the front in big blue letters.
“Hey there, darlin’.” The Midwestern twang played out in Logan’s voice when he needed it. Though he wasn’t from the Midwest, he and his brothers had lived and worked at their parents’ friend Hal Braden’s ranch in Weston every summer from the time they were kids until they went away to college. His father insisted that working on a ranch for a few weeks each year would build character. Logan had enjoyed the work, and he’d enjoyed the friendships with Hal and his six children even more.
“Hi. Can I help you?” The pretty receptionist’s eyes grazed over Logan’s chiseled features to his broad chest.
Logan leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I’m here to see an old buddy of mine, Mike Winters.”
She typed something into her computer and fluttered her thick lashes up at him. “And your name is?”
“I’d rather not be announced, if you don’t mind.” He lowered his voice again and lathered on his best country-boy twang. “We’re old college buddies and I’d like to surprise him, if it’s all the same to you. Of course, if a beautiful, important woman like yourself wants my name and number, well...” He threw in a wink for good measure.
“I…Um…”
“My, my. You are sexy when you’re flustered.”
She fluttered her lashes again and pointed to a set of double glass doors off to the right. “You can…um…find Mr. Winters through there, second door on the right.”
“Thank you, darlin’.” Logan tipped his hat with a nod and went in search of Mr. Winters. The interior offices were set up like a bullpen, with glass-walled offices lining the exterior walls and cubicles filling the remaining space. Logan found Mike Winters’s name on a plaque beside the second door. Logan watched Winters through the glass as he took a phone call. His hair was neatly combed, his suit finely pressed. To a stranger he’d look like a clean-cut businessman. Logan had seen the wolf behind the mask, and as he pushed through the glass door and Mike lifted his eyes, Logan counted the seconds until recognition hit. Mike’s eyes widened, and the blood drained from his face. He stood from his plush leather seat, taking a step back with the phone at his ear.
“I’ve…I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.” He fumbled as he set the receiver on the cradle and held his hands up, palms out. He was going to need more than that if this talk didn’t go well. “What do you want?”
“Sit down,” Logan commanded, all traces of Midwestern hospitality gone.
Mike stood stock-still. Apparently he wanted to do this the hard way.
Logan took two determined steps around the side of his desk, and Mike sank into the chair.
“I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Shut your f*cking mouth.”
Mike’s jaw snapped shut.
“Now…” Logan began in a calm voice with a threatening stare as he sat on the corner of the desk. To anyone looking through the glass wall, he’d appear to be an old friend, just as he’d planned.
“This is how we’re going to play this game. I visited your home this morning over on Garden Lane. Saw your sweet little blond wife and two towheaded adorable girls.”
Mike’s jaw clenched, but his trembling limbs gave away his weakness.
“Unless you want that lovely family of yours to find out all about your cheating, raping ways, you’re never going to go near NightCaps, or that waitress, again.”
“F…fine.”
Logan glanced over his shoulder, then slowly drew his gaze across Mike’s desk and picked up the picture of his family. “It would also be a damn shame if you visited any other bar, alley, or otherwise unfit environment for a husband and father of two, and threatened another woman.” He ran his finger over the image of Mike’s pretty young wife, then slid his suit coat to the side and flashed his gun.
Mike gasped, his eyes trained on the black metal handle.
“I’ll be watching you, Winters. I’d hate to have that wife of yours become a widow, but if you can’t keep your claws to yourself, I think I’d be doing a disservice to womankind by letting you roam the streets.” He set the picture down on the desk and leaned in so close he could smell fear on Mike’s breath. “You only get this one warning. The next time, my bullet will do the talking.”
Logan rose to his feet and smoothed his suit coat. “Oh, and if you contact the police and say I threatened you? Wifey will get a quick visit from the woman you attacked last night, along with the police. Your life will be over quicker than you can say, Oops.’”
He tipped his hat and left Mike to figure out how to leave his office with piss-wet pants.
Chapter Six
STELLA AWOKE FEELING refreshed, less stressed than she’d been in ages, and sore. So damn sore. The kind of achiness in her hips and the back of her thighs that only came from great sex and multiple orgasms. God, it had felt good to be with a man again. To be in Logan’s arms, to feel his strength and revel in his touch, to feel him stroking emotions and sensations she’d long ago forgotten. The way he’d claimed her lips with demand and passion—just thinking about being with him made her body hum. She’d been conflicted when he’d left in the wee hours of the morning. She’d felt herself warming to him and wanted to ask him to stay, but she was in no position to wake up in that man’s arms. She was a broken woman, on the run from a guy who would get out of jail in a few short days. No, leading Logan on was the last thing either of them needed.