Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(25)

Bingo.

A thick envelope full of cash.

Christ, Stormy. He made a mental note to teach her about safer hiding places for her valuables.

His heart did that funky thing it had been doing since he’d met her. He ignored it, aware of the time ticking by, and stuffed the envelope in his back pocket. He brought the bags out to his car and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Fairly.

She answered the door wearing a light blue housecoat. She looked older than Logan’s mother, with gray hair and a friendly, round face. Recognition spiked in her eyes, and she smiled warmly.

“Hello there.”

“Hi, Mrs. Fairly. I’m Logan Wild.” He held out a hand and was met with a limp handshake.

“Yes. You’re Stormy’s friend.”

“That’s right. She asked me to come by to get her things. We’re going on a trip, and I wanted to settle up her remaining lease.”

“Oh, my. Is she leaving for good?” A crease formed between her brows.

“Yes, I believe so. How much rent are you due?” He thought of his mother, and the idea of her needing to take in a stranger for money bothered him. Mrs. Fairly had opened her house to Stormy, and even though he’d just met them both, he was thankful that Stormy had found a safe place to live.

“She’s on a month-to-month, dear. She’s paid up for this month.”

His soft heart got the better of him. “And how much was she paying per month?”

“Nine hundred dollars, but she’s all paid up, as I said.”

After giving her a check for six months’ rent, Logan gave her a talk about not opening the door for strangers and then he headed back to his office. It was too late to drive to Mystic if he wanted to pick up Stormy after her shift, and at least for now he knew she was safe. She may not like it, but until he could ensure that Kutcher would never bother her again, she was stuck with him.





Chapter Eight


THE DAY DRAGGED by despite the continuous flow of customers. Stella could hardly believe that the man who looked cold and possibly dangerous the first night she’d seen him at the bar made her feel safe and like she wasn’t alone for the first time since this nightmare began. She tried to ignore the other desires he was sparking.

She looked up at the door for the hundredth time today. Each time she did, a chill ran across her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if it was from wanting to see Logan or out of fear that Kutcher would walk through the door and drag her God knew where. Although that wasn’t Kutcher’s style. He was stealthy, like a ninja. He’d be more likely to hide in her apartment or in an alley so he could drag her into the darkness and leave her body in a Dumpster.

“He’ll be here,” Dylan said. “You still have fifteen minutes until you’re off work, and Logan, he never drops the ball.”

She tried to smile, but her head was still wrapped around thoughts of Kutcher. He’d been abusive, but she knew that wasn’t the reason he’d wanted her dead. She’d made a mistake the last time he’d come after her. As he was pressing the sharp point of the knife to her skin, she’d said, I won’t tell them about the ring.

The ring. That’s what he’d called his drug-dealing business. She’d overheard him talking about it and put the pieces of his shady life together. His eyes had glazed over, cold and dark, and as the knife violently tore through her skin, she’d thought her next breath would be her last. The second stab sent her to her knees—and then her neighbor had responded to her screams.

The flow of customers slowed, and Dylan leaned his hip against the bar, kicked one ankle over the other, and crossed his arms. “Do you want to talk?”

Stella leaned against the bar beside him. She’d been hoping he’d ask. She’d shared some of the details about her past with Dylan, like the fact that she was hiding from an abusive ex-boyfriend, although she hadn’t told him everything.

“Did you tell Logan about me?”

He shook his head, his dark eyes trained on hers. “I didn’t have to. He’d never ask me to breach a confidence. That’s not how he rolls. Anything Logan wants or needs to know, he’ll find out.”

“I got that impression.” Her pulse kicked up when the front door opened.

They both looked over at a couple as they walked in and took a seat at a booth. She pushed from the bar to go take their order, and Dylan gently touched her arm.

“Three days left?” Dylan’s voice was low and deep, as serious as the day was long.

“Two and a half.” The pit of her stomach twisted into a knot.

“Listen to Logan, okay? I don’t want to hear about you on the morning news.”

She’d listen to Logan. She had no choice. He didn’t seem as though he’d give her one. And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

During the day, the bartenders took on the double duty of handling the floor and the bar. Stella didn’t mind. She was glad for the distraction from her thoughts. She took the customers’ orders and saw to two other tables before returning to the bar.

The front door opened again. The late-afternoon sun silhouetted Logan’s tall, broad frame, every muscle of his chest outlined by a tight black T-shirt. How had she missed the barbed-wire tattoo circling his right bicep? Jeans clung deliciously to his massive thighs, and the bulge to the right of his zipper made her mouth go dry. She knew what magic that impressive bulge could perform.