Logan's Woman (11 page)

“Claire... Just breathe. Calm down, breathe,”
she coached softly. The hands left her face and she heard the
running of water. Then cool liquid, on her face. Soft, fluffy
material. She took a jagged breath.

“Look at me.” Glenda’s voice was demanding, yet
gently so. She took a firm hold on Claire’s shoulders, with one of
her hands cupping her cheek. Her tear stained cheek.

“I’m going to get Logan, okay? We can take you
to the hospital and see what’s wrong...”

“No!” she nearly shouted, pushing
Glenda away from her. “Get out. Just get out, please. I can’t...I
won’t...I can’t go there. I
can’t
. Get
out
,” she sobbed, shoving the woman
away from her.

Weak.

She was so weak.

She’d known this was going to happen. She had
felt the panic building in her chest. Every single laugh of
Madison’s, every single zero that she’d seen in the bank
account...it all had come crashing down on her. Her father had
warned her, her aunt had warned her. No matter what it took, get
the pills and take them. Going to a hospital was more revealing
than someone ordering medicine.

Instead of reassuring Claire that she wouldn’t
take her to the hospital, Glenda knelt beside her. Smoothed her
hair back. “I have to get Logan. Come lay down.” She started to
pick Claire up, urging her to her feet.

“Not Logan. I don’t want Logan. Don’t let him
see me,” she begged, her body shaking so badly that she couldn’t
get to her feet. She curled herself into the corner that she had
been in before, letting the shudders wrack her body. Panic, almost
to the point that it was hysteria, swirled around inside her like a
tornado, reeking destruction.

“I’ll be back. Stay here, Claire, don’t worry,
it will be alright...”

Glenda rushed from the room.

In minutes, she came back.

And standing behind her was Logan.

Her body started to shake. She felt like she
was shattering from the inside out and there was nothing she could
do about it. She tried not to look at him. Tears built in her eyes;
she was ashamed that he’d gotten to see her like this.

The cold, unfeeling emotion in his eyes
suddenly wavered, and was replaced by worry and fear.

“Claire? What happened?”

She couldn’t tell him that she’d
neglected getting a refill for her prescription because she had
wanted to avoid him so badly. She didn’t even want to tell
him
why
she had to
have pills. But she figured he would figure it out.

He was just smart like that.

Panic swelled in her chest.
“Get
out
. God, why
can’t you leave me
alone?
” Her shrill question bounced
off the walls of the bathroom, then was swallowed by the sounds of
her sobs. There was nothing she could have done to stop
this.

Besides take her pills.

Just then, she noticed something.

Her eyes latched onto Logan, then his hand...he
was holding a white paper bag. There was a familiar scrap of paper
dangling from it. Her body shuddered.

A shrewd light entered his eyes, and he told to
Glenda to leave the bathroom and go back to whatever she had been
doing. Wtih worried glances, she did as she was told, but not
before asking her one more time if she would consider going to the
hospital.

“Claire?” he asked gently, like he was talking
to a child.

Her eyes again locked on the white bag. “I need
that,” she panted, feeling a coldness seep through her body. The
panic attacks she’d felt whenever she didn’t take her meds always
ended like this. The fear, how cold it turned. Even her hands
shook.

“Do you?” he asked, still holding it out of her
reach.

Why was he doing this? Did he
want
her to die? She
couldn’t stand it any longer -- desperate, she lunged for the bag
but cried out. He threw the bag to the side and wrapped an arm
around her waist, holding her against his large, warm
body.

“Give that to me,” she demanded, tears rolling
down her cheeks. Her fingers turned numb. She grabbed his shirt,
nearly clawing him with her nails. She didn’t care
though.

“Claire,” he said calmly, wrapping his arms
even tighter around her. He held her to him, keeping her still as
she began to fight him, hit him, sobbing all the while. No matter
what she did, though, he never let her go. He even went as far to
wipe the tears from her face and whisper calming words.

“Why,” she hiccupped, “didn’t you give them to
me...”

“It would have been a waste,” he calmly
explained, using his thumb to gently clean her cheeks. “Taking one
now wouldn’t have made any difference.”

The less she shuddered, the more she relaxed,
and the more clear headed she got. It took minutes, but it felt
like hours. His arms were thick and warm around her, and he sat
with his back against the bathtub, her small body curled into a
tight ball on his. He gave no indication that he was uncomfortable,
just held her and talked to her in soothing tones.

Chapter 8

“Why the bags?” Logan asked, sitting casually
on her bed as she cleaned herself up in the bathroom.

The door was open, but her reply wasn’t loud
enough to hear. That, or she hadn’t replied.

Claire came out a second later with a suitcase
in her hand. Logan stared at her. “Well?”

“I need to leave,” she said, not looking him in
the eye as she set the suitcases by the door to the
bedroom.

He was silent.

“Why.”

“I just need...”

“Claire. Tell me why.”

“It’s time...”

“Tell me the actual reason, damnit,” he
snapped, fisting his hands. She met his eyes for a second, fear in
their blue depths.

After a moment of silence, she said, as quietly
as if she hadn’t spoken at all, “I’m really not...wanted here. It’s
time for me to go, anyways. I’ve stayed here too long.”

Logan growled low in his throat, sensing that
there was something a lot more complicated than what she was
telling him.

“What do you mean, you’ve stayed too long?” He
got to his feet slowly, feeling a possessiveness he’d never felt
before.

“I just have,” she said evasively, moving out
of his way. Claire backed into the wall, staring up at him with
guarded blue eyes. He felt his reserve close to
snapping.

“Is it because of me? Madison?” He
stalked closer to her, unable to hide the growl in his voice. The
worry at seeing her panic attack, the anger that she was going to
leave the ranch...leave
him
...all came out and there was no
way he could stop it.

She shook her head, and her blonde hair fell
over her shoulders. Up close, he was struck by how beautiful she
was. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and seeing her now... the soft
sprinkle of freckles, long, golden hair, wide blue eyes, so
innocent yet scared... Something overcame him.

“Then
what
,” he demanded roughly, cornering
her into the wall opposite of the bed.

“I can’t...stay here. I’ll put you in danger,
and --”

He froze.

“Danger?”

She froze as well.

Claire, with a new look in her eyes, slipped
under his arm and moved past him. “I’m leaving. If I have to walk
to town, I will. But I’m...I’m leaving,” she said chokingly, not
looking at him again. She wrapped her hand around the handle of her
suitcase and grabbed her jacket, which he hadn’t known she’d even
had.

His chest pumped, filled with shock and
apprehension. “Claire.”

She didn’t listen to him, instead leaving the
room with a stride, carrying her suitcase.

Logan was still for a second, not believing
this was happening. And then, with a burst of energy, he went after
her. “Damnit, Claire! Just hold on for a second -- what do you
mean, you’re putting us in danger? Are you a runaway?”

He grabbed her arm, spinning her
around.

“Logan --”

“Tell me what is happening with you
--”

“Just let me --”

“I’m not going to let you leave! Not until you
tell me what’s --”

“Logan!” she yelled, jerking out of
his grasp. “Let the fuck
go of
me
.”

He reacted as if he’d been slapped. Reeling
back from her, he stared at her with wide eyes.

Claire closed her eyes, breathing
deeply. She’d just cursed at him -- not even that, but
screamed
at him. He’d
never thought she would raise her voice, let alone say a curse
word.

Logan wasn’t about to let her leave.

That was for sure.

Resolved, he didn’t wait for her to calm down
but grabbed her by the arm, yanked the suitcase from her, and then
began to drag her to his office. It was on the same floor, thank
lord, but it was on the opposite side of the hall. On his way
there, he threw her suitcase into his room and slammed the door
close behind him.

She struggled, cursing, kicking, hitting,
pulling, but he didn’t let go of her.

He threw open the door to his office and then
pushed her in, slamming the door close behind him. He didn’t mean
to be rough, but he was pissed -- and worried about her.

“Sit do--”

She moved for the door, quick as a cat. He was
there, though, blocking her way.

“Claire, sit your ass down now or I’m putting
you over my knee,” he growled, getting in her space, goading her to
try and get passed him.

“You wouldn’t,” she hissed, pulling her hand
back like she was about to slap him.

He grabbed her wrist and jerked, pulling her
body flush against his. “Right now, I’d do just about anything. So
either you sit the fuck down, or your ass is mine.
Capiche?”

Her chest heaved, causing her breasts to brush
against his chest. He had her pulled so close against him that he
could smell the strawberry shampoo she used, could smell the cool
mint of her breath -- could even feel it against his hand as she
glared up at him.

“Fine,” she snapped, yanking against his
grip.

He let her go willingly, but didn’t move away
from the door before she sat down, facing away from him.

Logan took only a second to collect himself,
before moving in front of her and sitting on the edge of his desk,
forcing her to look up at him to make eye contact. Her face was
flushed, yet white besides her cheeks. Her eyes were snapping fire
and on guard, fear in them. Her hands were in her lap tightly, and
he didn’t think he could have plied them apart with a
crowbar.

“What are you running from,” he demanded. His
many years of marine training kicked in, and suddenly he was all
about the information. Screw emotions -- this woman’s life was
obviously on the line.

Or so she thought. Logan knew he wouldn’t let
anything happen to her

“No one,” she said evasively.

“You said you were putting us in danger. You
also said that you had stayed here too long. Sorry, baby, but
that’s a red flag that you’re a runner. So tell me, who are you
running from.”

Claire was silent, unwilling to divulge
anything.

“The law? Someone trying to kill you? Family?
What,” he persisted, leaning forward to grab her chin, forcing her
to look at him. He saw the anger, but what shocked him most was the
sheen of tears that graced her eyes.

“From someone,” he hedged, searching her eyes.
They flickered to the right, away from him, signaling that he was
again correct.

“An ex?” he tried. Her lack of response was
wearing his patience thin, but he wasn’t going to show her that.
Not after losing it so badly in the hallway.

When he thought he would have to hedge again,
she shook her head. So it wasn’t a boyfriend. Grateful for that at
least, he sat in the adjoining chair that was next to her,
confident that she wasn’t going to run from the room -- yet. If
there was anything he knew about civilians, it was that they craved
help -- no matter how much their mind might tell them otherwise.
Claire was in trouble, and she wouldn’t have given in that little
piece of information if she wasn’t somehow desperate for
help.

He tried a more gentle attack. “Claire, you
know I was in the marines.”

She nodded, even though it hadn’t been a
question. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but the more time wore on,
the more her shoulders curled. And the more she caved.

“And you know I can get you better
protection...”

She stiffened, then her body shuddered. She
raised a hand to her face, trying to wipe at her eyes. “I just need
to know who you’re running from, and then I can help you. You’d be
safe here. Don’t you miss feeling safe?” he asked quietly,
appealing to her sense of vulnerability. It had been a tactic that
he’d used to many times with children who refused to leave cages
he’d found them in, for fear of getting beat to death by their
abuser.