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“Goddammit,” I mutter, rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling for far too long. Then I finally shut my eyes hard, as if I can shut out the hot mess of doubts and hopes clamoring for my attention along with them.
It doesn’t work. Despite what Maddoc told his crew tonight about evening out the playing field by keeping my sister out of Austin McKenna’s hands, it feels a hell of a lot like he’s puttingmefirst this time. Me and Chloe, both.
No one’s ever done that before, and it’s hard to believe it’s real.
But more and more, it’s even harder to believe it’snotreal.
I’m starting to believe in Maddoc too.
31
RILEY
“So we’re goingto check around the bus station again?” I ask Logan the next morning, biting back a smile when he hands me a travel mug with another perfect cup of coffee inside.
He doesn’t smile or say anything about it, but he’s so intentional and precise about everything he does. Taking the time to do that for me means something, even if I’m only just starting to trust what that “something” might be.
He nods in answer to my question, ushering me into the sleek car he seems to favor over the Escalade Maddoc always picks. It’s way too fucking early again in my opinion, but I’ve got no complaints because we’re going back out to look for Chloe.
Every day she’s out on her own makes the knot of worry in my stomach twist a little tighter, but I’m feeling weirdly optimistic about things today. I’d blame it on a good night’s sleep, but I know it’s not really that. Something’s shifted between me and the men here—something’s shifted insideme—and it colors everything a little bit differently now.
I don’t feel like I have to walk on eggshells with Logan today, so instead of sitting in the car in silence, I reach over and poke him lightly in the shoulder.
“That’s all I get?” I ask when he glances over at me quizzically before quickly returning his eyes to the road.
His brow furrows, ever so slightly, and I can tell he has no clue what I’m talking about. He probably doesn’t even realize I’m teasing him.
“The… coffee?” he asks after a moment. “Did you want breakfast as well? Yesterday, you didn’t want to eat this early.”
I grin, hiding it behind another sip from the travel mug. It’s true. Not being a morning person, I’ve generally got no interest in food until I’ve been awake for a bit.
And Logan noticed because Logan notices everything.
“I don’t need anything to eat yet,” I reassure him. “I could definitely use more of an answer than just a nod, though. You know, conversation?”
He gets a tiny line of frustration between his eyebrows, and I think about the little I already know about him. Not just what he’s told me, because that’s not much at all, but also everything I’ve seen during the time I’ve lived with the Reapers.
Opening up obviously doesn’t come easy to Logan, and he probably doesn’t even know where to start. But he’s not telling me no—or threatening me with bodily harm, the way he would have in the beginning—and that alone has me hiding another smile behind a sip of coffee.
“How did you and Maddoc meet?” I ask, holding my breath. Not because I’m scared he’ll lash out at me this time, but because I know it can’t be a pretty story. Logan already told me he was living on the streets by then, and he’d already survived the horrors with his mother too.
But I don’t back down even when he takes a while to answer, because I genuinely want to know. I want to understand him. And I also figure a direct question is going to be easier for Logan to answer than something as open-ended and foreign to him as the idea of just making conversation while we drive for the heck of it.
“I used to pick up work for Maddoc’s father,” he finally says.
“Hm,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee. Hopefully, the sound will encourage him to tell me more, but this hit of caffeine is also exactly what I need right now, so I don’t push it. Not right away. I just close my eyes and enjoy the way it flows through me like liquid sunshine, feeling almost relaxed around Logan for the first time since I met him.
I take another sip. It’s still early enough in the day that the warmth is as welcome as the caffeine. Still, even though we’re not that far into summer yet, I know it’s going to be hot as fuck later. It’s why I threw on a short skirt and a thin top under my jacket this morning. Anything else will be torture if we’re going to be walking the streets all day… and the way Logan’s eyes dip, just for a second, to my bared thighs when he glances over at me is an added bonus.
Idoaffect this man.
I also want to know more about him. I still don’t know exactly how far I can push since he’s such a private person, but I give him an encouraging smile, and it seems to work.
“I was just running errands for him at first,” he goes on telling me about working for Maddoc’s father, the words coming out a little stilted, like he’s genuinely not used to talking about himself. Or, from what I’ve seen, talking much at all. “After a while, he started giving me a little more responsibility. A few small jobs here and there.”
Errands. Responsibilities. Jobs. Logan doesn’t elaborate, but I get that it’s all part of Halston’s criminal underground. A world I’m familiar with since my own father has always skirted around the edges of it. One I know just enough to realize the dangers of. Some of which, over the last few weeks, I’ve seen firsthand.
And it would’ve been way too easy for Frank to have sucked Chloe into that shit as a kid—as young as Logan was when he got stuck in the middle of it—if I hadn’t been there to keep her away from those dangers.
