Shifting Fate (7 page)

I turned to him, but started as Brendan
walked out of the other room. My bedroom.

My gaze flicked to Emily, who was watching
Logan stare at Brendan. It appeared a mild enough look, but
somehow, I knew the expression held something more.

“
Brianna,” Brendan said,
completely ignoring Logan and his stare. “We finished bringing up
your things.” He gestured toward my room. “I was just doing a final
security sweep.”

Logan didn’t speak, but a muscle twitched in
his arm where he stood beside me.

Brendan stepped closer, speaking only to me.
“I didn’t realize you’d be leaving the property. I assure you, our
teams will be ready for your next … outing.”

“
Oh,” I said, not wanting
Logan’s men to be caught in the middle of whatever tension my
protection was creating, “I only went to the archives.
I—”

Brendan cut me off. “As I said, tomorrow, we
will be ready.”

“
That won’t be necessary,
Brendan,” Logan announced. “Brianna’s work at the archives is
complete.”

Brendan’s jaw flexed, but his eyes stayed on
mine. “Please, let me know if there is any way I can assist in your
efforts.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Actually, Brianna has
an engagement with me this evening, so if you boys could just …”
She made a shooing gesture with her hands. When the men were gone,
the door closed behind them, Emily said, “What’s it like being a
celebrity?”

I flopped down onto the couch. “Exhausting.”
I turned back to her. “Is it not like that for you at Council?”

Emily shrugged. “I can’t exactly do anything
exciting.” She winced at the implication and tried to cover it.
“Like predicting the future, I mean.”

“
Yeah, well it only helps if
I can figure out what to do with it.”

I thought of the prophecies again, how they
had shifted when Emily was bound to Aern, how they were changing
even now, the future in a horrible flux where every outcome was
worse than the next.

“
Maybe you’re trying too
hard,” Emily said. “You’re strung tighter than a bobcat on a
bowstring.”

I shot her a sidelong glance at the use of
one of our more amusing foster family’s sayings, but the
seriousness in her expression dragged a chuckle out of me. I threw
a couch pillow at her. “Sit down. We have work to do.”

She complied, but eventually the exhaustion
and constant worry caught up with me, making even my mental efforts
useless. When it was clear I’d made absolutely no progress, we
relaxed, sinking back into the couch. Emily was explaining that she
had business with Aern and probably wouldn’t make it the next day,
and I nodded my understanding as I closed my eyes against the
letters and fibers and connections I’d been seeing all day. I
wondered if they would be burned there, a constant swirl and glow
that hazed over everything I would ever see again.

I dropped my head back and kicked off my
boots. In my fatigue, I was no longer concerned about being carted
barefoot out a window.

I must have dozed off, but when the scent of
warm food hit my senses, I was jerked awake. I stretched, surveying
the room to find two plates of chicken and rice with steamed
vegetables on the table. Thinking it was odd that they’d left me
alone, I crept silently toward it, realizing I probably resembled
prey sniffing bait and not actually caring. And then I noticed my
bedroom door had been shifted partially closed.

My bare feet were noiseless on the plush
carpet, but Logan wasn’t surprised to find me peeking through the
open door. His jaw was tight as he disassembled a small black box
near my bureau. He didn’t explain what he was doing, but I could
see by the collection of plastic fragments scattered over the
cabinet’s top that he’d been breaking apart several electronic
security devices while I slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure
out they were Brendan’s.

When he dropped the last piece onto the
dresser, he looked up at me with what appeared to be conflict in
his eyes. Two heartbeats later, it changed to determination. He
reached down to pick up a bag that lay at his feet and pulled out a
few wires and tools before handing it to me. He didn’t say
anything, but he didn’t need to. His expression left no doubt now.
We were leaving.

I threw a pair of jeans, two sweatshirts, and
a toothbrush into the bag while Logan stepped into the hall with
his men. He didn’t speak as he led me to the car, and was still
silent the first twenty miles of road. But when the traffic thinned
and the Division house became more distant, his silence became less
angry and more … Logan. The street lights, more and more
infrequent, flashed through the darkened windows to illuminate his
face.

There was no question he would be strong.
Given his line, his position among Council, Logan would no doubt be
as talented as any when it came to using his sway. He could have
anything. It was so easy for them to take advantage, when a simple
handshake and a smile, a brief word, could cause someone to do
whatever they liked. To give whatever they wanted. I’d seen it
among the ranks at Division. I’d seen the way Brendan’s select few
had lived, the only thing keeping them in check Council and
Morgan’s own designs on power and gain.

Morgan hadn’t settled on money, though. He’d
wanted control. Not political power, but ultimate control. Reign. A
return to the day they’d ruled as kings. As gods.

But the man beside me had no interest in any
of that. He’d left his position at Council to save his people. He’d
chosen to help me.

He’d chosen this.

“
That’s very distracting,”
Logan said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“
What?” I asked.

“
You.” His gaze met mine.
“Staring at me.”

“
Oh.” I didn’t look
away.

The corner of his lips twitched.

“
I don’t think he does it on
purpose,” I said after a pause.

“
It doesn’t matter,” Logan
answered, knowing I was talking about Brendan’s poor decision
making. “He put you in danger.” He glanced at the side mirror
before changing lanes. “He put all of us in danger.”

He was right. After Morgan had placed sway on
so many of the men, no one could be safely trusted unless I’d
personally searched their connections, seen for myself they weren’t
under his control. But that wasn’t Brendan’s fault. He was
confident in his own men, allowed them access to all of the
security systems.

Because we hadn’t told him everything.

I looked out the window then, the outskirts
of the city passing by in a blur of shadow and light. Headlights
reflected off darkened windows, everything closed down too early. I
didn’t recognize the view. I opened my mouth to ask where we were
going when he turned off the main road, taking a few scenic side
streets before pulling into the drive of a three story apartment
building. The path curved around the back where a second story
parking garage was nestled between it and another building. Logan
pulled the car between two similar looking sedans and got out,
carrying my bag.

The closing door echoed across the walled-in
garage as he placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward the
elevator. It was sleek and stainless, and apparently private. No
buttons or numbers lined the wall, merely a small touchscreen that
Logan pressed a finger to before the doors sealed us in. On the top
floor, we exited to a small foyer where Logan keyed in his passcode
to the main door. As he released the lever, he looked back at me,
expression unreadable as he paused for just a moment before finally
opening the door. He took my hand, walking me forward as he dropped
the bag onto a side table.

The apartment was beautiful. Not in the
lavish way the Division houses were; there was no excess here. The
furniture was all clean lines, centered in a large, open living
space that led to a kitchen and dining area. Of the two doors, one
remained open, revealing a single bedroom and private bath. The
east wall was solid glass.

Logan noticed what caught my attention. “It’s
one-way glass. It’s completely safe. No one even knows this place
exists.”

I looked up at him. “No one?”

He pressed his lips. “Aern is the only one
who knows where it is, but he wouldn’t expect me to bring you
here.”

His words brought abrupt understanding, and
my hand automatically went toward the flutter in my stomach. I
stopped it halfway, smoothing the hem of my shirt before sliding
the hand into a back pocket. Unable to face him, I stared straight
ahead, across the empty apartment into the open door of a bedroom,
Logan’s bedroom, and was only reminded we were entirely alone. In
his home.

Chapter Eight

Histories

Logan gestured toward the open door, changing
the subject before I had time for further reaction. “The bedroom,
bath.” He abruptly turned toward the kitchen, remembering we’d left
our dinner uneaten at Southmont. “Hungry?”

I nodded numbly. “Sure. Thanks.”

He walked past me to the kitchen, brushing
the arm that was braced into my jeans pocket. I swallowed hard, and
turned to follow him.

Logan was at ease here, suddenly more casual
than I’d seen him before. He rested an arm on the open pantry door,
staring in as he decided on dinner. “There’s not much left,” he
said, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder before
reaching in for some canned vegetables. “I’ve not been here
lately.”

He left the door open as he shifted to place
a saucepan on the stove, and I peered into the cabinet. Logan
noticed my slow smile. “What is it?”

I stared at the clear plastic jars with
bright red lids. “Peanut butter.”

He watched my smile for a heartbeat longer
than was probably socially acceptable, and it faltered as that
nervous thrill resurfaced. Logan returned his attention to the
saucepan.

I ran a finger over the dark granite counter
top. “Is there something I can do?”

He pursed his lips. “Actually, you could stir
this while I go change.”

“
Sure,” I said, and watched
in mock outrage as he turned down the burner. “You don’t trust me
for five minutes?”

One brow raised, and in that simple gesture
he reminded me that I’d just grinned goofily over peanut butter. I
chuckled despite myself.

Logan was gone in an instant, leaving the
bedroom door cracked as he washed up. I studied the pot in front of
me, stirring mindlessly until I was once again on the verge of
sleep. I stifled a yawn, and a hand on my waist startled me out of
it.

Logan took the spoon and gestured for me to
sit. He was wearing a soft gray T-shirt, a bulge in the fabric
hinting at a pistol tucked into the back of his broken-in jeans. He
ladled out two bowls and brought them to the table, sitting beside
me without so much as a word. It was nice, being with him, being
near him. And Emily was with Aern. He would protect her. He would
do anything he could. Despite the constant warnings, it felt safe.
Safer than it had in a long time.

“
Brianna,” Logan said after
I’d finished most of my soup. “You’re asleep on your feet.” He slid
out of his chair. “Come on.”

I followed him to the bedroom door where he
handed me my bag. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” he
said, pointing toward the couch.

“
Thanks,” I replied,
clutching the pack too tight against my chest.

Logan pulled the door nearly closed behind
him, leaving only a narrow strip of the living room visible from
where I stood. He disappeared from view as he moved toward the
kitchen to clean up dinner, so I walked slowly across the smooth,
dark wood floors for the bath. I sat the bag on the sink, pulling
my hair back to splash my face with cool water. When I reached for
a towel, I noticed Logan’s shirt draped over the rack, which
abruptly reminded me that I was in his house. Alone with him. I
pressed the towel hard against my face, trying to blot out the
remembered vision of our not-yet-happened kiss.

It didn’t work.

I ran a hand through my hair, pulling out the
band as I made a face at my train of thought in the mirror. I
needed to go to sleep. That was all.

I unzipped the pack, reaching in to find that
I had neglected to pack pajamas. A whispered curse slipped through
my lips at the two sweatshirts and jeans. I really did need sleep.
I glanced down at the shirt I’d been wearing, the one I’d have to
wear tomorrow beneath my sweatshirt, and frowned. My gaze trailed
slowly to Logan’s shirt, then back to my own. It felt wrong,
somehow, but I managed to convince myself I was being ridiculous. I
tugged off my own clothes to place across the rack, and drew
Logan’s too-big shirt over my head. It hung loose, draping me to
about mid-thigh, and it smelled like him. A hand came up to bring
the material closer to my face, but I stopped it, glaring at myself
in the mirror as I clicked off the light. Ridiculous.

I crossed the bedroom in the dim light from a
small lamp on the table, leaving it on as I crawled beneath the
charcoal gray comforter. The blankets were soft and warm, and the
scent of Logan was everywhere. I lay still, listening for some sign
of him in the front room, but there was nothing except the empty
hum of silence. I tried counting. Reciting Latin. I even practiced
breathing. But nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up, folding the
blankets back to walk barefoot through the room.

My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I
followed the perimeter, trailing a finger over the edge of his
dresser, across the top of a low side table, stopping midway to
pick up a small metal sculpture. It was dull silver, like pewter,
but heavier, with a rounded top that fit neatly into the palm of my
hand. I cradled it there for a moment before reaching to place it
back on its stand. My hand hovered over the table as the words came
to me, welding themselves firmly in my mind. Another warning.
Another version of the future.