Logan (Blue Halo Book 1)

Grace turned her car into Logan’s long driveway. Flax lilies bordered the pavement while water glistened off the leaves from the earlier rain.

God, his home was beautiful. When he’d pulled in the previous day, her jaw had almost hit her lap. Not only were the grounds huge and gorgeous, with a perfectly manicured lawn, but the house itself was amazing. Two stories, with green vines growing along the facade on the outside, making it look all kinds of Mediterranean. And, of course, the interior matched the exterior.

Logan had mentioned something about needing to get security gates installed around the property. She’d been looking at him when he’d said it. Seen the slight tightening of his hands around the steering wheel.

Safety was important to him.

She didn’t know the exact story of how he’d been taken, but she did know her own. It was soul-destroying. It broke down all of your preconceived notions of safety.

Shaking her head, she parked in front of the house on the side of the driveway.

She’d been planning to go back to the motel tonight. Logan had told her his team was due to get back tomorrow and offered to let her stay another night. She’d said no, of course she had, but then she’d called the motel and was told they were all out of rooms. Something about a rainbow run?

So here she was, back at Logan’s. She tried not to let her nerves eat at her at the thought of having to confront the remaining four guys. She’d apologized to everyone else, she could do it again.

Grace climbed out of the car, moving inside with the groceries she’d just picked up, as well as the new phone that was still in its packaging. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Logan’s house was almost completely devoid of food. So, grabbing some ingredients for dinner while buying a replacement phone was logical. Not to mention, she owed him for last night.

The second she stepped foot inside the house, she was surrounded by silence.

“Logan?” A few seconds passed before she moved to the kitchen.

It wasn’t surprising that it was almost dinnertime and he wasn’t home. He’d warned her that he had a full day at the office and would likely be home late. Still, she couldn’t quell the stab of disappointment.

Memories of the previous night hedged her vision. Of Logan waking her with such care. Of him tapping her shoulder and remaining to her side rather than hovering. He was obviously good at reading people and what they needed. Or maybe just with her. Maybe she wore her emotions on her face like an open book.

It was strange to almost feel like she was attracted to Logan. For so long, she’d convinced herself she would never feel that kind of attraction again.

Healing wasn’t linear. Not only did she help other women understand that, but her own healing had been anything but. It was normal to take one step forward and two steps back, especially at the start. She’d definitely done that. And even now, so many years after the event, when she finally felt normal again, she still wasn’t fully healed.

Dropping the bags on the island, Grace took out the salmon and vegetables. She pulled out an oven tray, memories of how she’d been those first few weeks after she’d escaped replaying in her mind.

Broken. Utterly and completely broken.

Therapy had been the only thing to help her. It had saved her, there was no question about it. Learning about the power of therapy had been what inspired her to study the field herself. It was why she did what she did. So she could help women who had been as broken as her to function again.

Preheating the oven, Grace got to work on preparing the food.

Of course, now she wasn’t even sure she’d ever work as a therapist again. After what she’d done, how could she? Sadness swept through her at the thought. Counseling women at their lowest point was hard, but it gave her purpose.

Scanning the room, Grace’s eyes stopped on the radio. After a couple minutes of fiddling, she found a station with old school music. George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” played softly through the room.

Immediately, some of the tension loosened from her shoulders.

Going back to the island, she continued to prep dinner. She allowed herself to be caught up in the music. Her hips swayed and quiet lyrics sung from her lips. This was her happy place.

By the time the salmon was in the oven and the salad done, Grace noticed it was almost seven and dark outside. Surely Logan wouldn’t be too much longer.

She was just grabbing some plates from the cupboard when the lights in the room flickered.

She paused, studying the light fixture directly above her.

That’s when it flicked off completely. And not just the lights, the oven beside her switched off as well. Even the music no longer played.

What the heck?

She could barely see a thing and didn’t even have a phone to use for a light. What did people do when the power went out? Check the switch box? She didn’t know where the thing was, and even if she did, she’d have no idea what she was looking for.

Grace was just about to head down the hall when scratching noises sounded from the back door. They were faint, but there.

Her heart jumped.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was a neighbor’s cat looking for food. But then, why had goose bumps risen over her skin? Why was there a sick feeling churning away in her gut?

With slow steps, Grace moved toward the door. On the way, she caught a glimmer of moonlight reflecting off the knife she’d used to chop vegetables for the salad. Instinctively, she grabbed it, holding it in front of her.

She was probably being ridiculous. But if she’d learned anything in life, it was that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Stopping at the sliding door, she studied the yard through the glass. Although it was dark, she would have been able to see if someone was out there. There was no one. Not on the lawn, anyway. No movement. And no other noises sounded.

Dropping the arm with the knife to her side, she shook her head.

Christ, she was losing it. The power goes out and suddenly she’s convinced herself there’s someone there?

Turning away from the door, she made her way back into the kitchen. She’d just stepped toward the island when a hand touched her shoulder from behind.

A scream tore from her chest, so loud her ears rang. She swung the knife as she turned.

Immediately, a large hand wrapped around her wrist, halting the knife mid-flight, and stopping it from piercing his skin. Logan’s big chest was in front of her.

She froze. Her world stopped.

Holy crap! She’d almost hurt Logan. Would have hurt him…if he wasn’t who he was.

“I’m so sorry!”

She wanted to say more. She opened her mouth to do just that, but no words came. She could just make out his features in the dim light of the room. He didn’t look angry. More confused. Shocked.

He looked above her head, studied the room, the windows, before his gaze returned to her. “Are you okay?”

Physically, yes. Mentally, she was turning into quite the paranoic. “Yes. The power went out, and I heard scratching at the back door.”

It sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth. Scratching could mean a whole lot of things. Birds. Cats. Heck, it even could have been a branch that had flown into the door. It did not warrant her grabbing a big-ass knife and swinging it around.

“Scratching?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

“But it scared you?”

“Yes. But a lot of things scare me.” Only half-joking, she cracked a smile.

He didn’t. He waited.

Was he waiting for her to tell him why a lot of things scared her? Because if he was, he’d be waiting a long time. What could she say? That she lived her life in constant fear of being found? Identified by a man who had almost destroyed her?

No. She wouldn’t be exposing that secret.

Logan placed his hand on top of hers, sliding the knife from her fingers and popping it on the island. Then he took hold of her hand, heading toward the door.

Immediately, his touch brought her comfort. The opposite of what she felt with other men. It was…nice.

He led the way outside, stopping at the fuse box on the side of the house. He flicked a couple of switches. The lights inside immediately came back on.

“Does that happen often?” she asked quietly.

He turned, studying the yard around him. “No. But I’ve been living here less than a month. I’ll call an electrician tomorrow to investigate.”

She didn’t miss the way he continued to scan the yard as they re-entered the house.

They set the table together before sitting down to eat. Throughout dinner, Logan remained fairly quiet, his eyes scanning outside the window every so often. God, her paranoia was clearly rubbing off on him.

It wasn’t until their plates were clean that Grace noticed the strain around his eyes. “You look tired.”

He sighed. “I am. It was a long day.”

It really was. The guy had left at about seven this morning and hadn’t returned until twelve hours later. “I’m happy to be an ear to listen if you’d like to talk about it.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You know that half my team has been away. They’ve been working a job in Mexico. They finished in the early hours of this morning, but there was a hiccup.”

A hiccup…that was particularly bad in his line of work, wasn’t it?

“The guys are flying back to Cradle Mountain tonight. And when they return, it won’t be just them.” He stopped, his gaze cutting to her. “There will also be women they’ve rescued. These women have been through the worst kind of hell imaginable. Cradle Mountain was supposed to be a quick stopping point before they returned to their families and hometowns, but because of this hiccup…”

“Now it’s not.” It wasn’t a question.

“Now it’s not. My team will be guarding their rooms at the hospital until safe houses can be organized. The problem is, we’ve been told that will take a couple of weeks.”

Grace wasn’t sure why that was a problem. It wasn’t ideal, that was for sure. If these women had been through something traumatic, family was important. But safety clearly needed to come first, and Logan and his team were in the safety business.

“You have special training in working with women who have been through trauma, don’t you?”

Her brows rose, suddenly unsure where this was going. “Yes. That’s what I specialize in. I did my internship at a women’s trauma facility.”

“Cradle Mountain has one therapist. He’s sixty years old, but it’s the fact that he’s a male that’s the problem. The hospital has been trying to get a female therapist up here since they found out one was needed, but female therapists, with the qualifications we need, are hard to source anywhere nearby. Particularly on short notice.”

She swallowed hard. “Are you asking me to stay and counsel these women?”

She knew he was, but she wasn’t sure why. She’d assumed he would be the first to never want her working as a therapist again.

“These women need someone, Grace. It’s a desperate situation.”

Desperate. So desperate that they were willing to ask a woman they didn’t trust for help.

Ducking her head, she nodded.

She wanted to say no. She should say no. But what if it had been her who’d needed the help? What if, eight years ago, she’d been flown to a small town and someone could have helped her, but chose to protect themselves instead?

She probably wouldn’t be here right now.

“Okay.” She spoke the word so quietly, it barely reached her own ears.

Logan closed his eyes, the relief palpable. “Thank you.” He opened them again. “The women are in bad shape. They were rescued from a sex trafficking ring in Mexico. Some have been held for years, others for shorter periods.”

Grace’s hands went clammy at the mention of sex trafficking. Not because she’d ever been subjected to it. But she should have been. That was supposed to be the plan…before Kieran changed it.

She swallowed in an attempt to wet her suddenly dry mouth, the food in her stomach now turning acidic.

Logan’s brows pulled together as he studied her. “Are you okay?”

Get it together, Grace.

She focused on the song that played softly through the room. Jewel’s “Foolish Games”. She let the melody fill her, calming the turmoil.

When she spoke, her voice was even. She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m okay. And I’m glad that I can help.”