It didn’t matter where he went or who he tried to talk to, he was still watched with wariness, suspicion, and even fear. He wondered if threatening a few would work.
Sighing, he leaned against the door frame again, his gaze narrowing on the shadowed house across the side yard before a frustrated curse slipped past his lips.
This was it.
The minute he saw her moving around, he was going over there. He would explain what he could. Attempt to make her understand the threat, the danger, she could face if she dropped his guard and let her into his bed.
He’d have to make her understand what losing the sight of her, the knowledge of the life that glowed in her eyes, would do to him.
It would destroy him.
The teasing, the sense of waiting, it was going to have to stop. His attention was becoming too divided by the woman he couldn’t keep his hands off.
So much for all those years of training the government had paid so much money for.
It could work if injected with truth serum or if any number of other agents designed to compromise him or his strength. But he’d be damned if he could work past the thought of the pain he’d put in her eyes that last night.
It was after two in the afternoon, and still he hadn’t seen Skye or the pup venture through the house. But then, he hadn’t really expected Skye to.
He never saw her in the morning. Once the sun rose, the house became still and quiet until late in the afternoon. She slept through the day in the small in-law suite that had been built onto the house by a previous renter.
Logan hadn’t been so sure about the addition when he’d agreed to it; now he almost wished he hadn’t allowed it, despite the additional rent he was able to charge for the place. Because he couldn’t stare into the windows of that suite. It was on the other side of the house, away from his own.
Where he couldn’t see Skye, where he couldn’t watch her, get to know her at least through her habits.
He knew from her rental application that her employer was listed as a major software firm, her job title that of editor for instruction and design manuals.
It sounded damned boring to him and not really a job he could imagine she would have subjected herself to.
Pushing away from the patio doors at the sound of the doorbell ringing, Logan grimaced and made his way from the room, despite his reluctance to answer the door.
He should ignore it.
He didn’t want company, and he sure as hell had no intentions of putting up with it. For twenty years the good citizens of Sweetrock, and of Rafferty Lane in particular, had ignored the injustices against the Callahan cousins and watched as they were disowned, participated in snubbing them, and refused to testify to the fact that Mina Rafferty Callahan had cherished her only child as well as her husband.
Moving down the stairs, Logan raked his fingers through his hair and grimaced at the memories of the past. Memories he simply didn’t want to revisit yet had no choice now that he was back in the house where he’d spent the first eleven years of his life.
Pulling the door open, he stared at his visitors coolly despite the small tingle of warning that came to life just beneath the skin at the back of his neck.
“Archer, can I help you?” Logan leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest as he noticed the neighbors gathered on the porches and in their yards along the street.
Another day in Sweetrock, he thought furiously as he turned his gaze back to the sheriff and the stranger standing still, watchful, and armed behind him.
Archer pulled the dun-colored hat from his head before raking his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture of frustration.
“Logan, this is Detective Ian Staton from Boulder. We need to talk to you.”
Dark-haired, his craggy features set and stone-hard, the detective watched Logan from icy, hard blue eyes. Jeans and a cotton shirt, a casual sports jacket that hid the shoulder holster Logan detected beneath it, and well-worn leather boots on his feet.
“Now, Logan.”
There was something about the demand that grated on his senses and had the small hairs at the back of his neck tingling in warning.
Logan stared back at them coolly. “So talk.”
“Privately, if you don’t mind,” the sheriff sighed. “You don’t want this here in front of your neighbors.”
Logan narrowed his gaze warningly at the sheriff. “Crowe and Rafer okay? Cami?” His gaze shifted to the detective.
“As far as I know.” Archer nodded. “This isn’t about them.”
Logan stared at the family standing on their porch across the street.
Mr. Williams, his wife, Nila, and their four children were staring back at Logan as though he had killed their dog. Williams had his brawny arms crossed over his chest, his rounded belly curving out beneath them.
“Fuck it.” Stepping back, Logan let the two men into the house. “Want some coffee?”
“If you don’t mind.” There was an edge of relief in the sheriff’s voice.
“We really need to get this taken care of, Sheriff,” the detective demanded, his tone harsh. “Coffee wasn’t part of the agenda.”
“Then pencil it in, dammit,” Archer ordered, his tone harsh. “I told you, you’ll handle this my way.”
Judging by the look on Archer’s face, he was pretty damned sure he didn’t want to know.
Logan led the way to the kitchen, put the coffee on, then as the dark liquid ran into the pot turned back to the two men.
Archer was keeping a careful distance between them and him, assuring Logan that his cousins might be fine, but someone wasn’t.
Or something wasn’t, and Logan was damned sure he didn’t want to know what it was.
Weariness, guilt, sorrow. The emotions flashed through him as he fought the knowledge he could see in the sheriff’s gaze.
A knowledge that hell was about to revisit.
“What’s happened?” Logan asked as he turned and poured the coffee, more to give himself something than out of any need for the caffeine. Setting the two cups on the center counter, Skye’s counter as he now thought of it, Logan crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“We’ve talked to your neighbors,” Archer sighed. “No one will say one way or the other if you were here Saturday night/early morning or not, if you left or if they saw you at all.” There was a growl in his voice, an edge of anger as Logan felt himself tensing.