Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(27)
It was dark by the time they wove up the mountain road, led by streaks of moonlight carving paths through the trees. Stormy made a sad noise in her throat that tugged at Logan, wiping away the last of his resolve. He reached for her hand, and for a split second their eyes connected before he had to turn back to the road. In that instant he saw deep wells of sorrow. He wished he were driving his father’s old truck, which he kept at the cabin, instead of his car. It had a bench seat, and he could have held her close while he drove.
He turned down the dirt driveway and stopped the car in front of the iron gate. The hell with professional distance. Distance was the last thing she needed. She’d had distance for as long as she’d been running. He unhooked his seat belt and hauled his thick body over the console to pull her against him. Her body was rigid at first as he stroked her back. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”
Darkness peered through the windows, keeping the sounds of night at bay and leaving them in a bubble of silence. He could have held her all night right there on the secluded drive on the Silver Mountains, but he wanted her safe and comfortable. He touched his forehead to hers.
“Hey.”
She lifted a tenuous gaze.
“I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
For the first time, she looked fragile. Her eyes were soft, her shoulders low. Her walls were coming down, and that made Logan’s protective impulses even stronger. He’d been on high alert as they’d left the city and had taken the long way to the property to avoid being tailed. There hadn’t been a single set of taillights for the last twenty miles.
He settled back into his seat and used the remote to open the gate, still holding her hand. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as he drove up the long dark driveway toward the cabin.
Logan parked the car and flicked a code on the remote. Porch and floodlights illuminated a thirty-foot area around the two-bedroom cabin.
“Where are we?”
“Silver Rock Mountains, upstate New York. I own two hundred acres. You’ll be safe here. I’ve got surveillance cameras throughout the property, but there’s no need to worry,” he assured her. “No one knows you’re here.”
“Wow. You’re like one of those guys in the movies, where in a few hours you can become invisible.” She sighed as she unhooked her seat belt. “What I wouldn’t give for that skill.”
Logan got out of the car and opened her door.
“And you’re a gentleman.” She smiled up at him, looking markedly less worried than she’d been moments before. Logan knew she was good at slipping in and out of the armor she wore in public, and he wasn’t buying the no-fear mask she was wearing.
“I guess my mama raised her boys right.” He reached for her hand and helped her from the car, then retrieved her bags. He had everything he needed at the cabin, from clothing to tactical gear and equipment.
Out of habit, he scanned the area as they ascended the steps to the wraparound porch.
“I bet this place is gorgeous in the daylight.”
“Night or day, if you ask me.” Logan pushed the door open and scanned the interior. It was a simple cabin with a bedroom on either end, a small kitchen to the left, and a wood-burning stove surrounded by stone just beyond. Reclaimed barn wood lined the far wall. Logan watched Stormy take in the leather recliners in the living room and the old leather sofa beside the stove. Her boots resounded on the hardwood floors.
“This is exactly how I pictured you’d live.” She ran her hand over the marble countertops in the kitchen. “I love how you’ve combined old barn wood with higher-end elements, and the stainless-steel stove and fridge are a nice touch.”
“Careful. Your interior decorator side is showing.”
She smiled. “So important PI stuff included digging up my career?”
“Just a little.” He didn’t want her to feel too exposed, but he wanted her to know that he wasn’t oblivious to who she was, so he turned the conversation from her back to the cabin. “My father had a thing for stone. Probably because he could never afford it.” Talking about his father made his muscles cord tight, and he didn’t know what possessed him to mention his father to Stormy.
He’d bought the property after he’d returned to civilian life, as a place where he could escape the guilt of not being there when his parents needed him. Finding out that guilt stayed with him like white on rice was a harsh reality he’d still not gotten used to. He’d added the stone at the last minute. His father was the hardest-working man Logan had ever known, though he’d never made much money. Logan had carried one image of his father with him for years. They’d just arrived at Hal Braden’s ranch in Weston, Colorado, for him and his brothers to work for a few weeks. Hal was a hulking man at six foot six, with shoulders as wide as a doorframe. His father had walked inside beneath Hal’s big arm, the two men looking as close as brothers. Logan’s father had turned to him and said, When you build a home, son, do as Hal did. Use stone and wood. Stone for solidity and stability and wood for compassion and warmth.
He felt the walls closing in on him with the memory and escaped to the bedroom off to the left, where he shrugged Stormy’s bags onto the bed. He’d never brought any women to the cabin before. But it had been the first and only place that had come to mind with Stormy. He decided not to dissect that too closely as he watched her through the open bedroom door. She bent to remove her boots, and he tried not to stare, or let his mind wander too far, but seeing her bent at the waist conjured up all sorts of lewd thoughts. He shifted his eyes away.