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“Unless you call watching my back an update.”
“I told you. I’ve got men watching. They’ll see to it nothing bad happens.”
“Forgive me if I don’t find that as comforting as you seem to think it is. I didn’t ask for this.”
“This is what happens when you go fucking around with the forbidden fruit.”
I grit my teeth until they threaten to shatter in my gums. “These people aren’t ones you fuck with.”
He shrugs. “Neither was Parker. Look at the world, Carpenter. You really want to raise kids in this shit show?”
I don’t bother telling him I don’t plan on raising kids, at all.
“You can’t stop them all.”
“No, but I can try,” he agrees, standing. His gaze hardens. “I asked your sister to marry me, by the way.”
“Yeah. You should’ve fucking said something. Asked, maybe?”
He just shakes his head, a dark look in his eyes. “No. Had to be her choice. No one else’s.”
He reaches for the door and I get up to follow him, pissed off that I can’t argue that and even more pissed off when I see Hannah standing at the desk when we step into the lobby. Her eyes lock with Logan for a second, then with me before she looks away, her cheeks glowing red.
Fuck me.
Logan smirks, heading for the door, but he stops, hand on the handle.
“For the record,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low so Hannah can’t hear when she takes a call. “I only asked you to stay away while I was trying to save her. Until it was safe.”
I grit my teeth. I know it’s my fault my family worries about me. Wonders why I don’t come around. I just . . . I can’t.
“I know.”
Logan nods and with that he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the girl who won’t leave them.
She hangs up the phone a second later, her gaze meeting mine and for once, she doesn’t have that cheery smile.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly when I stride past her and back to my office.
“Fine.”
Then I shut the door.
Hannah
Today is a day for awkwardness.
“God fucking dammit.”
—That’s part of it. Mason’s been in his office all morning, door open, with expletives rolling out at every opportunity.
The other half is the argument we had the other night. His apology. The strange . . . tension in the air between us since.
He hasn’t told me if he’s been looking into Missy’s disappearance. I haven’t asked. I know if I push him, he’ll probably tell me to fuck off back to Sacramento, so I’ve been giving him some space.
“Of course, it doesn’t match. Why would it?” he grumbles and I finally decide I can’t take it anymore.
“Are you trying to perform open heart surgery in here or are you just trying out new things to say when you’re pissed off?”
