Reunited in Danger (16 page)

The thought scared the hell out of him.

By the time she came downstairs—dressed in khaki pants and a purple button-down blouse—he’d
arranged a plate of neatly-cut triangles of peanut butter toast, a mug of black coffee,
and a sliced apple for her.

She smiled at him, and in spite of the sad phone call, the smile went all the way
to her eyes.

He pulled her against him. “Usually, I burn the toast. Today, I made an exception.”

Keely planted a kiss on his lips. “Thank you. This is very sweet.” She glanced at
the table and laid her head on his chest. He stroked her back and closed his eyes,
letting himself believe he could share his life with her.

With a smile, she backed away and pulled out a chair. “I think I can spare a few minutes.”

He sat across from her, lifted his mug, and sipped.

After taking a bite of her peanut butter toast, she leaned forward to ask, “So what
happened with your case last night?”

Thanks to her, he’d been able to put last night’s events out of his mind for a while—the
scumbags who treated humans worse than animals. Being with her had done the trick.

Maybe that was what she needed right now. As much as he didn’t want to talk about
what they’d found on that deserted pier, and as much as he didn’t want to relive it,
telling her about the bust might help keep her mind off the boy fighting for his life
at the hospital, and the missing little girl. Correction, the
three
missing girls.

“It was tough.” He stared at the table between them before looking up to meet her
gaze. “We caught smugglers trying to bring twenty-five women into Baltimore. Likely
as not, to be slaves or prostitutes.”

Keely’s hand that held her coffee mug halted in mid-air. “Last night? You saved twenty-five
people from that life, Logan?”

He could have kissed her, and wanted to. But it wasn’t what she needed. She viewed
what he did as saving people’s lives. But in reality, he was always one step behind
the bad guys.

“Only twenty-four lived. We arrested three men, but we didn’t get the ringleader.
Yet,” he added.

“Modern day slavery. Right here in Baltimore.” She closed her eyes briefly and then
opened them.

“Until the whole operation is shut down, they’ll just keep bringing in others, and
we might not be lucky enough to catch them.”

Her gaze fell to his bare chest. “Still, you saved all those people. That must be
a great feeling.” She cleared her throat and stood. “I’ll leave you the key so you
can lock up. Take a shower first if you want.”

“Sure you don’t want a ride?”

“I’m sure.” She grabbed her briefcase from a spot between the wall and her desk. “I
have no idea how long I’ll be.” Fishing out a key, she handed it to him and then stood
on tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“I hope Melita turns up. And that her brother isn’t as bad off as they think.” He
walked her to the door.

“This asshole of a father is going to need luck when I’m done with him.” She twisted
the deadbolt and faced him with narrowed eyes. “Some people should never be allowed
to be parents.”

She turned, squared her shoulders, walked directly to her car, and slid in. She didn’t
look back, and Logan was glad.

Because his face had to be registering the pain that slammed through him as he processed
her parting words.

Chapter Fifteen

In the station bullpen, Logan took the printout of the report he’d been working on
from the printer tray, crumpled it, and chucked it at the metal trash can. When he
missed, he turned his swivel chair sideways and kicked the can so hard he put a dent
in it.

“Whoa,” Dunnigan said, turning the corner by Logan’s desk. “What’d that bin ever do
to you?” His friend leaned on top of the partition that separated Logan’s desk from
ten other desks in the unit.

“Typos,” Logan said. “Can’t type worth shit.” Let Dunnigan think he was mad about
work-related issues.

“Paperwork can wait.” Dunnigan took a swig from the Styrofoam coffee cup he held.
“Hell of a bust last night.”

“
Hmph
.” Logan peered at the document on his computer to fix the typing errors. “We didn’t
get anything on the guys running this shit.”

Logan was spared any more conversation when Dunnigan was paged and he turned and walked
away. Let him think he was angry because they didn’t catch the ringleaders. Or that
the damn reports were a pain in the ass. Let them all think he was a diligent cop
who helped bring down a human trafficking ring and still wanted more.

Not that it wasn’t all true. He wanted more, all right. He wanted the
top
guys, the ones who were making money selling human beings. Not just the couriers.
And he wanted them to spend the rest of their lives in a jail cell. Then they’d find
out what being a slave was like. No rights. No freedom.

But that wasn’t the issue burning in his gut today.

Keely
, he thought as he knuckled his eyes. He’d been weak. He’d run to her last night,
seeking comfort, needing to find some sign of goodness in this Godforsaken, messed-up
world where people could be sold as slaves.

And that weakness had cost him, big time. He’d lowered his defenses, started to believe
he and Keely could have a future.

But she’d reminded him—in no uncertain terms—that somebody like him could never be
with somebody like her. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents,” she’d said. He
was pretty sure she hadn’t meant him—she’d made her views on that clear earlier. But
nevertheless, she was right. He
shouldn’t
be a parent.

It was definitely time to get the hell out of here and head to Texas. As soon as he
finished with this case.

Stabbing the print button on the machine, he stood to retrieve the corrected copy
of the report. After crossing the room to put the file in Dunnigan’s inbox, he went
back to his own desk, pulled out his cell phone, and hit the speed dial for Ben.

Time to crack a case. Even if it wasn’t his.

…

Keely stepped outside the hospital into the bright October sun. Why did the world
have so many evil people in it? Little George’s head injury was so severe doctors
worried about permanent brain damage. She’d talked with the caseworker from the hospital,
filled the woman in on George’s history. Now, she fisted her hands and forced the
image of the child’s father from her mind—his angry, contorted face as he crashed
through the kitchen.

She hustled up the block from the Greene Street hospital to the parking garage and
let the sounds of the city—the blaring horns, the accelerating transit busses, and
the sound of slamming doors as busy business people scurried around at the midweek
lunch hour—distract her instead of letting herself cry the tears she wanted to shed
for George and his missing sister Melita. For little Lettie and brave Ava, all of
whom were God knew where. For now, George’s father was under arrest, but not talking.

Brain damage
, she thought as she jogged up the parking garage steps to the third floor.

That monster of a father wouldn’t be walking out of jail this time. He’d pay the price.
But at what cost to his children?

She welcomed the anger that replaced her sadness. So many couples tried for years
to conceive a child but couldn’t. Yet a monster like Melita and George’s dad could
father two and then treat them like shit. It wasn’t fair. Some people seriously didn’t
deserve to be parents.

Cresting the top of the garage ramp, she leaned against a pillar and froze. Slow heat
crept up her neck.

Oh, damn. Oh,
hell no
.

She’d said that aloud when she left her house, hadn’t she? In front of Logan.

How could she have been so insensitive?

Had he heard her? Thought it had been directed at him? He believed his violent actions—with
the kid when he was nineteen, with the boy in Afghanistan, with the charges of brutality—were
related to his father’s abuse, but who wouldn’t have reacted as he had, in all three
cases? Logan had already told her he wouldn’t make a good father, was planning to
get a vasectomy, for crying out loud. If he heard what she said…

But she
hadn’t
meant him. There was a world of difference between Melita’s father and Logan. Didn’t
he see that?

With her heart pounding, she prayed he hadn’t mistaken her venting as aimed at him.
But if he’d taken her words to validate his own misgivings about fatherhood…

Damn!

She pulled out her cell and called him, saying a silent prayer he hadn’t heard her
earlier thoughtless comment. His phone went straight to voicemail. He must be busy.
Surely, after all they’d shared last night, he wouldn’t ignore her call.

Would he…?

…

Two hours later, Keely balanced four canvas grocery bags in her arms and twisted her
key in her dad’s front door lock. She almost tumbled on top of Logan when he yanked
open the door and pinned her with a stare.

Chills ran down her spine at the sight of his set jaw.

There was no doubt about it. He’d heard her parting words.

“Hey.” She smiled and blew a clump of stray hairs out of her face as she set the bags
on the foyer floor.

He smiled back, but it quickly faded and never reached his eyes. His mouth—the sexy
mouth she’d only just begun to know—tightened in a firm line.

“I’ll take those.” His gaze dropped to the bags.

She handed him two.

He took them and turned without saying a word. She followed him through her father’s
living room, noting her father, Dave, and Beatrice were seated there.

She sketched a wave, then followed Logan into the kitchen, where he started unloading
lunchmeat, soups, and whole-grain bread.

“How are the kids—the little girl and her brother?” He stacked canned goods in the
cupboard.

“Father’s in jail, Melita’s still missing.” She drew a deep breath and closed her
eyes for a second, still unwilling to process the news. “George might have a permanent
brain injury.”

Logan halted with a bag of wheat muffins midair. “Brain damage?”

She nodded and opened the refrigerator. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

He shook his head and placed the muffins on the counter. “I’m sorry.”

She steeled herself. May as well get it out now. Sooner or later she’d have to address
what she’d said. Apologize. Now was as good a time as any. “Logan, what I said earlier—”

He halted her words with a raised palm and moved to the kitchen doorway. “I have to
go.”

She watched open-mouthed as he turned and walked to the front door.
Running away again
. It took her several seconds to process, but when she recovered from his hasty exit,
she grabbed her purse and ran through the house, stopping in the living room to press
a quick kiss to her father’s cheek.

“Dave, would you mind unpacking the rest of the groceries?” Without waiting for an
answer, she raced out the front door and got to Logan’s SUV just as he started the
motor.

She yanked the passenger door open and plopped onto the seat.

He leaned back and stared straight ahead at the dry leaves blowing in the afternoon
breeze. School children walked past, backpacks over their shoulders and iPod buds
shoved in their ears. Everything normal and peaceful. Except the tension between them.

No way she’d let him run away again. Years ago she’d probably have let him go, thinking
he didn’t feel the same about her as she did him. Afraid he could never love her.
But he loved her and she knew it. He could leave her—she didn’t have much control
over that. But this time she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

Deciding they could wait to discuss her misspoken words, she yanked the seatbelt across
her lap. “So, where are we going?” She risked a peek at him through her peripheral
vision. He lifted a shoulder and then shifted into gear.

Easing out of his parking spot, he said, “To the morgue.”

…

Logan wasn’t sure if he should laugh at Keely or pluck her out of his truck and set
her on the sidewalk. He’d timed it wrong. He was supposed to have been out of Ben’s
house before she arrived, but he’d run late.

Now she sat beside him, ready to head to the morgue.

He merged his SUV into the afternoon traffic. If she wouldn’t take the hint, then
maybe seeing firsthand the horrible things he had to deal with on a daily basis would
chase her away.

He shifted in his seat. She’d been carrying in three days worth of groceries when
he opened the door for her at Ben’s. The sight made him yearn for her to come home
to him that way, to their own place. They’d make dinner together, build a fire, then
make love all night.

“Logan, are you going to let me apologize now?” she asked, interrupting his fantasies.

“I found a pregnant girl on the ship. She died, but they saved her baby. I need to
find out how far along she was.” Distracting her with new information might stop her
from addressing their issues.

She gasped. “They smuggled a pregnant girl on that boat?” She stared at the floor
and then turned to glance out her window.

Knowing her as he did, he figured she was tucking the pain away somewhere before asking
any more questions. Now that he knew she’d miscarried their own baby, the recent loss
of life hit him harder, too. What had Keely gone through those weeks after she’d lost
their baby? What kind of pain would that bring a mother?

“Well, here we are,” he said, trying to make it seem as if he stopped by the morgue
all the time. “You coming in?”

“I’ll wait here.” She bit her bottom lip and blinked several times.

He shrugged and climbed out of the truck. Better for her to stay in the truck.

He trudged down the stairs to the ME’s office, and after a detailed conversation,
returned to his SUV fifteen minutes later.

“What did you find out?” Keely asked.

He shook his head and drove out of the parking lot. He’d been so tense inside that
every muscle hurt right now. “The girl was eight months pregnant.”

“Oh, God.” She chewed her lip. She’d been afraid that somehow Su Lin had been the
girl aboard that boat. But Su had only been four months pregnant. “Do you think those
women from the boat you stopped would have ended up working somewhere like Craig’s
diner?”

He stiffened. She was thinking like a cop. “I can’t discuss the specifics with you.”

“Are you getting a search warrant for the diner?”

She was getting too close to the truth, at least the suspected truth. He needed to
get her somewhere safe now. “I’ll drop you off at Ben’s now.” He turned right onto
West Biddle Street.

“We haven’t finished our conversation.”

He glanced at her, taking in her casual clothes and windswept hair. He wanted to reach
out, run his fingers through the hair in her ponytail, and kiss her. But that would
never happen again.

He pulled up in front of Ben’s and parked the car. He reached for the door handle,
but she stopped him.

“When I said some people don’t deserve to be parents, I meant bad people, Logan,”
she said, her voice low. “Not you. You’re one of the good guys. I’m sorry if you thought
otherwise.”

He lowered himself in the seat and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. He recited police
codes in his head to distract himself from the pull of her words. “If you won’t get
out, I’ll take a nap.”

“You’re nothing like your father, Logan. You save people. You do good things day in
and day out. You made my dad feel better, and you helped Margaret Beyer. You are nothing
like the scumbags I have to save children from almost every day. You might be able
to crack a pimp in half with your bare hands, but I know you, Logan. You’re a good
man.”

She moved closer and her breath was hot on his check. He steeled himself, willing
his body to maintain control.

“You couldn’t hurt an innocent child on purpose if your life depended on it,” she
whispered.

Lowering the sunglasses on his nose, he turned to face her. Her breath shuddered out,
and her eyes glistened with tears. She could take back her words all she wanted, could
tell him how her words about some people not deserving to be parents didn’t apply
to him, but he still believed what she’d said to be true. He had to hurt her to make
her go away. God help him, he had to do it again.

Her chest rose and fell, and she stared at him as if waiting for a reply.

“We’re different people, Keely. Too different to make this work.”

“So we shouldn’t even try? You’re not going to accept my apology even though my words
weren’t aimed at you?”

“Either way it doesn’t matter. You live in Baltimore. I’m moving to Texas. You knew
this was going to end sooner or later, anyway.”