“Prints are in,” Steve said, reentering Logan’s living room while sliding his phone into his pocket. “It’s Nicole Fleece.”
Son of a bitch.
He hadn’t liked the woman, but she sure as hell hadn’t deserved this. Grace remained completely still beside him. Aidan, Jason, and Flynn were scattered around the room. The energy was low. Everyone was tense.
“Why her?” Aidan asked. “Just because she had a thin connection to us?”
Steve’s gaze stopped on Grace for a beat before moving away again. “Young. Female. Attractive. Besides hair color—which he clearly took upon himself to change—she fits the MO of every other woman taken.”
Grace shook her head, frowning. “No, not all the women have the same color hair.”
“They all had red hair when they were taken,” Steve said quietly. “Some weren’t natural redheads. Over the course of their time at the compound, the color faded.”
The sound of Grace’s heart speeding up splintered through the room.
Dammit, he hadn’t told her that part—and to be honest, he didn’t know if he’d ever planned on it. Because none of the blame for these women being taken lay on her, and there was no way he wanted her to think it did.
A tense beat of silence passed. Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable.
Grace swung an accusatory look at Logan. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you thinking anything was your fault.”
Beneath the hurt and the shock, he saw anger. He expected her to say more. Maybe even to yell at him—she sure looked mad enough—but she didn’t. Instead, Grace turned back to Steve, her back unnaturally rigid.
Steve cleared his throat. “Grace, I know you have Logan and his team protecting you, but I feel obliged to let you know that I can organize a safe house if you’d pre—”
“She’s staying here.” Logan cut the man off before he could finish. Grace wasn’t leaving his sight.
“That’s a decision for Grace.”
His stomach roiled as he looked at her. There was nowhere else she’d be safer. No one could protect her like him and his team. He was almost certain she would stay—but her prolonged silence had nervous tingles shooting up his spine.
“I’d like to stay here.”
The nerves fizzled out of Logan. He placed a hand on her leg, not liking the invisible distance he felt between them.
Steve spent the next twenty minutes asking Grace questions about Kieran. Questions he was sure she’d answered eight years ago and were on file with the police who’d handled her case. He also spoke about safety measures that needed to be put in place, all of which Logan had already taken care of with his team.
He seemed to be about to leave when he stopped. “You’re still counseling the women through Skype?”
“I gave them the option to continue seeing me online or finding a new therapist in the towns where they’re located. All were okay with the online arrangement, bar Lizzie.” A pained look crossed Grace’s face. “I’m worried about her. She’s struggling more than the others. She doesn’t want to find a new therapist but doesn’t want online sessions either.”
Steve hadn’t disclosed the locations of the safe houses. And he wouldn’t. For the safety of the women. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’ll keep working with her. See if any progress can be made with our Skype sessions. Hopefully Kieran is found soon and she can return to her family.”
Steve shoved a hand in his pocket. “I hope so, too.”
After everyone said their goodbyes, Steve and Logan’s team slowly made their way out. It wasn’t until they were alone that Grace rose from the couch and left the room without a word.
Grace was angry. Angry at Logan for keeping something so important from her. Angry at the law enforcement agencies in the country for not being able to find Kieran. Lord knows, they’d had the time. And angry at Kieran for hurting her, and continuing to hurt other women.
She stepped into the bedroom and, without intending to, slammed the door with a bang.
It didn’t remain closed for long. A second later, the sound of it popping open behind her echoed through the room.
Not sparing a glance over her shoulder, she headed into the adjoining bathroom, closing that door as well. This time, ensuring it didn’t slam. She loved Logan, but she didn’t feel like talking to him right now. She wasn’t just angry; she was hurt. Hurt that he hadn’t told her the whole truth.
Turning on the tap, she splashed some water on her face, letting it cool her warm cheeks.
Kieran had been watching her for about a month before he took her. Then he’d held her for a week. Did that really lead to eight years of taking women who looked just like her?
Knocking on the bathroom door cut through the sound of gushing water. “Can I come in?”
She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. The rational part of her brain knew that Logan had just been trying to protect her. But the anger and hurt inside her was like a dark snake, slithering its way up her throat into her head, and there was no one else to project it on.
She opened her mouth to tell him no. To demand that he give her space. But the words didn’t come. Because the truth was, she didn’t want space from him.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
A second later, Logan’s heat pressed against her back, his arms surrounding her. Offering a cage of safety. “I’m sorry.”
Two words. And some of the anger dissipated, giving way to the emotions she’d been trying to press down.
Sadness. Fear. Guilt.
Turning in his arms, she tilted her head up to look at him. “When did you figure it out?”
“The morning you told me that red was your natural color.”
She nodded. That was before they’d seen Kieran on the hospital surveillance video. Before Grace had learned that Ice and Kieran were the same person.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did, except bringing him down.
Logan stepped closer, his arms tightening around her. “I should have told you. That wasn’t my information to keep.”
It wasn’t. But she understood why he did. The guy was too protective. Too gentle. Shielding others against anything that could hurt them was ingrained in his nature.
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes. Leaned into him. “I’m going to have a shower.”
His forehead touched hers. “Would you like company?”
Yes. But instead of saying so, she shook her head. She wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe because she didn’t feel deserving of his affection right now. The guilt was starting to drown the anger. All those women, taken because of her. Because of some loose resemblance.
It took a few seconds, but finally, Logan left the room. She instantly felt more alone than ever. But she couldn’t call him back. Her voice was stuck in her throat.
Turning on the shower, Grace stripped, switched the lights off and stepped under the spray. The darkness was what she needed to allow her silent tears to fall. Guilt like she’d never felt tried to consume her. Suffocate her.
Closing her eyes, she let herself feel all of it. Her chest cracked wide open.
When warm hands eased around her body, Grace’s eyes flew open. Even though she couldn’t see anything in the dark bathroom, she could feel him. He was as naked as she was as he held her.
“I can’t remain out there and listen to you cry.”
Maybe her tears hadn’t been so silent after all.
She lay her cheek on his chest. “I feel like it’s my fault.” Oddly, even more so because she’d counseled those carefully chosen women. Heard their heart-wrenching stories. Listened to their pain and trauma.
“It’s not.” His arms held her tighter, his chest vibrating with his words. “The only person at fault here is him. He gets all the blame, Grace.” Logan’s head lowered, his mouth beside her ear. “Even if he kept you, you wouldn’t have been the last woman he took. Men like that don’t stop until they’re dead. You hold no responsibility here.”
She nuzzled closer, his huge, powerful body a source of such incredible comfort.
“I want him to be dead.” She didn’t even care if that made her a terrible person. He’d hurt too many innocents.
His voice deepened, a dark undertone shading his words. “He will be.”
She believed him.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to appreciate the powerful man who held her. Loved her.
That’s when she finally heard the music. The soft lyrics of Ron Pope’s “A Drop in the Ocean”.
“This is one of my favorites,” she said softly.
“And you’re one of mine.”
