Logan's Woman (23 page)

“Yeah. Perfectly fine. Keep going,”
he said roughly, eyes dropping from her eyes, to her mouth, to her
breasts
—
which
were conveniently outlined by the thin material.

Her arms quickly cross over her chest and she
laid down on his chest, effectively hiding herself from. Logan
groaned again, but wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” she
asked quietly, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Nope.”

Carl crawled out of the bushes, wiping leaves
and branches off of his shoulders. The agents and the Senator were
gone by now, and Logan’s help had returned to their little barn
area. The second they’d left their place to search out the
intruders, he’d taken a moment to snoop around. It hadn’t been
hard, creeping his way in there.

In fact, it had been surprisingly
easy.

He’d learned all of the places where camera’s
were stashed, what they were stacking with weapons, but hadn’t
found any form of ID. Of course, he knew who they were without
having one. It was just nice to know names and
addresses.

Carl stood up lowly, out of the view of the
cameras that he knew were placed just at the edge of where he was.
He’d been lucky when he’d showed up here undetected. Showing up
another time wouldn’t be a problem.

He fully planned on killing Ms.
Campbell. There wasn’t anyway he couldn’t. It had been Joey’s
original instructs and they would be carried out as promised. But
killing Logan? Or, rather,
trying
to kill him? Another matter completely.

His big feet carried him swiftly through the
yard. It’d be another ten or so minutes before he reached the
rickety cavalier that was some blocks away from the
property.

Making an even bigger out of Logan Marshal
would be the last thing he ever did. The man might be a big lump of
goo in the face of Ms. Campbell, but when it came to revenge?
Killing? The man was as cold as the arctic and barely had a shred
of mercy. That was expected, of course. Carl knew all about the man
-- he’d made it his goal when Logan had sent him to
prison.

What he hadn’t managed to find out, he’d
quickly learned upon showing up here. Some of the people here were
hard to get talking -- except for the gossipping group of ladies.
He’d been walking by casually, head bowed, to hear them talking.
About the wedding, about Logan, about his ex-wife. What a good
stroke of luck he’d had that day.

The cavalier was in view now, partially hidden
behind a clump of tall bushes and a small fence.

As he opened the door to the car, he realized
something.

If he didn’t kill Logan, Joey wouldn’t give him
the freedom he needed. And, without realizing it, he’d found the
solution.

Ms. Campbell.

He could kill two birds with one
stone.

A small, happy grin came over his face at the
thought.

Using Ms. Campbell to get Logan? Genius! Then
Joey would give him the freedom he deserved and no one would be the
wiser. In fact, if he took care of the problem now, no one would
know what happened to them. Maybe an elope. Her father had stormed
out of the house in a fuming rage, so it would make
sense.

He turned the car on, making sure the lights
were off.

Carl had a brilliant plan in store for them, he
just had to plan it out more precisely.

Chapter 25

Claire rolled over in the bed, searching for
the warmth of Logan. The sheets were silky soft and -- he wasn’t
there.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. He’d
probably started on his cowboy deal early, she thought, yawning
softly.

Logan’s room was nothing but man. As she looked
around, feeling content, she took in the scene and laid back in the
bed, relaxed. He had dark brown curtains hanging from the large
window, just barely brushing the ground. A leather couch was
pressed up against the wall, and in front of it was a flat-screen
TV. The carpet was a pale cream color. His bed, the one that she
was laying in now, was king-sized and low to the ground, with black
silk-sheets and matching pillow-cases. Not a speck of clothing was
on the floor and she found it endearing how neat he kept
everything.

Her man liked control, she thought, a smile
lifting her lips.

She stretched her arms above her head and then
climbed out of bed, deciding she should at least shower.

Claire went to the bathroom, turning on the
shower. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Curly blonde hair was everywhere, make-up was
smeared down her cheeks, and she was wearing a...

She picked at the hem of the shirt, confused
--

Oh god. Last night.

Logan. The guns. Her father.

It all came rushing back like a
tidal wave, clearing every bit of content thought she had. God, her
father... How could she have done that to him? How could he have
done that to
them
?
Logan had been right. About everything. He cared more for her than
her father did, or he wouldn’t have acted the way he had last
night.

Couldn’t he see that leaving her
with Logan was the safest route? Besides the blinding fear, Logan
had been in control of everything. They had more reliable help than
she would at her father’s house. The cowboys, Logan’s trained men,
Logan
himself
.

Claire opened the shower door, climbing in
gingerly, feeling her chest tighten as the emotions of last night
came back to her. Her father had never really been there for her --
she could at least admit that much. He’d rather be Senator than
drop out for her safety.

Before, the fact had never bothered her and
she’d felt selfish for even thinking it... but her life was on the
line. What had they been thinking, sending her away, on her own?
Finding Logan had been a stroke of luck -- she was sure she’d be
dead by now without his help.

Water sluiced over her dirty body, clearing
away the remnants of last night. It relaxed her muscles, had her
eyes closing, and letting everything she had felt from last night
attack her mind with a ragged knife. Her tears mixed with the
water, but her sobs were silent. She promised herself that it would
be the last time she cried.

The danger was still present. Her father,
despite him losing his daughter, was still running in the election.
She had no idea what would happen after – would she have to live
her life in hiding? She’d been pronounced dead. If she actually
came back, what would that say about her father? Telling the public
that Joey had threatened her life would only make her father’s
credibility lessen. And what would Joey do in revenge if her father
actually won the election?

She had no doubt that he would. Joey might be a
heartless ass, but he still had a good front to the people of Iowa.
Yet they loved her father more… It wasn’t just between them two
though. Whereas they’d had five Senators before, they were dropping
a seat. But she knew that none of the other Senators cared enough
to try to kill someone – the possibility of someone finding out was
too high – and not only would they lose their spot, they would be
put into jail.

Claire had no real proof that Joey
was after her – her aunt had somehow found out and Claire trusted
her enough to do as she said. What if this whole thing
really
was
to gain
sympathy for her father’s side, and they’d made a ploy to get
Claire to play along… She shook her head. Thinking like that was
pointless. Her father had made a spectacle about it, and her aunt
was too much of a hard-head with stern morals to go along with
something like that.

She turned off the water slowly, her mind
reeling. It was hard to stand there and just accept what was
happening. Her life was changing. And not as she’d thought it
would. She no longer had the illusion that her father loved her and
she now had a husband. A husband with a questionable
background.

“Claire?”

She jolted at the sound of Logan’s voice
outside of the bathroom. Some of the worry washed away – Logan was
there for her. She opened the stall door and stepped out, grabbing
one of the plush white towels. She opened the door and peeked into
the room.

A smile lit her face at the sight of
him.

“I took a shower,” she said, opening it fully
and stepping into the room. He had mud and other questionable
substances leading up to his thighs. His face was brown with dirt
and he had his Staton in his hand. The worry in his eyes touched
her.

“Your eyes are red,” he said abruptly, walking
over to her and lifting a hand to her cheek.

Her cheeks flushed and she ducked out of his
hands. “I got soap in my eyes. And you’re all dirty,
Logan!”

His hand dropped to his side and he laughed. “I
had to give one of my heifers her meds and she didn’t like it too
much.”

Claire laughed, looking him up and down again.
“No, she really didn’t.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked,
sobering.

She moved from her spot by the bathroom door
and walked to his closet. She grabbed one of the black T’s and
dropped the towel, sliding it over her head. A low sound came from
behind her and she turned around, arms crossed over her chest. “I
just need something to walk around the house in. Once I get to my
room I’ll get my own clothes on,” she defended.

The shirt reached to just above her knees,
which she was grateful for.

“Throw a pair of my shorts on, too,” he
commanded, a second before drawing in a quick breath and turning
his back to her. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out, I’ll
make us breakfast.”

He closed the door in her face, leaving her
standing there with a very deep frown. “Okay, then, Mr.
Grumpy.”

She wasn’t going to dwell on his weird
attitude. Logan was a stormy man and she wasn’t going to fool
herself in thinking that they’d ever have a completely perfect
day.

Picking up the hem of her shirt and letting it
float back down, she opened the bedroom door and ran to her room,
getting ready for the day.

Claire made her way down the sweeping stairs,
entering the kitchen. The backdoor was open and she could hear the
quiet sounds of nature from outside…and the roar of a
motorcycle.

She frowned. Why would someone be using a
motorcycle on farmland?

Claire walked through the door, watching as a
big black Harley rumbled it’s way over the gravel. The rider had on
black leather with a sleek helmet on. She crossed her arms over her
chest, watching the rider with a curious disposition. A friend of
Logan’s?

She hoped so. No one would be dumb enough to
attack in broad daylight – especially with such a loud beast. The
motorcycle came to a stop several feet away from where she stood,
and she watched with apprehension as the rider swung his leg over,
simultaneously taking off his helmet.

The second it was off, his dark head turned.
Even from this distance, she could see the familiar grey
eyes.

One of Logan’s brothers. She
remembered what he’d said when they’d been in his truck the first
time
. I just hope that while you’re here,
they don’t show up. You’d run screaming for the hills.
For some reason, she felt like that was exactly
what was going to happen.

First her father runs out of her life, then
Logan’s brother, who looked like he should be locked up in jail,
was walking in.

She stood there as he got closer, just watching
him.

He had a scar down the side of his face. It
went down his right temple to his lower jaw. The skin looked like
it had healed as best it could, but the scar was still stark
against his dark skin. Unlike Logan’s eyes that were prone to
softening, his grey eyes were like slate. Cold. Unfeeling. As they
ran down her body and met her face, a shiver shot down her
back.

He wore jeans and his leather
jacket, and it didn’t really help with the fear that was making the
hair on the back of the neck raise. Didn’t guys in gangs wear
leather jackets? Or something? The mental image of
Grease
-gone-bad flickered
through her mind, and in that small interim, he was standing in
front of her.

“Logan here?”

The voice was deep. Deeper than
Logan’s.
Scarier
,
too.

She stepped back, shaking her head. “Ah…No,
he’s in the shower.”

Scary, dark, and dangerous pushed
his way past her, walking arrogantly into the kitchen. For some
reason, she felt like “arrogant” was the wrong word. No, he
stalked
into the kitchen –
like a panther or something hunting their prey.

He sat at the bar, looking at her with
unreadable eyes.

“It’s breakfast. Where’s the food?”

Claire gaped at him. “Excuse me?”