When I was younger, I was terrified of the cries in the night; unlike my sister, I wasn’t able to block them out by pretending to make wishes on dandelions.

As I grew, though, that changed. Anger ate away at me and I found myself spending my time praying I wouldn’t turn out like him. After all, my sister had. And addictive behaviors were hereditary. Funny how I’d worried I’d be a sex addict. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

In fact, it wasn’t until Charlie and I broke apart that I really understood that I could repress desire. That was not healthy either, though. It bred loneliness in a way I hadn’t really noticed until tonight, when Logan had lit me up from the inside and I realized just how alone I was.

Tossing and turning, I knew sleep was impossible, so I got up. Moving around, I felt uneasy and found myself crossing the room. For some reason, I peered out the window.

It was dark, but I swore I saw someone out there.

I squinted.

It wasn’t just someone that I saw.

My mind had to be playing tricks on me.

LOGAN

Emily.

Dead Emily.

Elle might bear an eerie resemblance to Emily but she was nothing like her. Unlike Emily, I could tell Elle hadn’t been sheltered, coddled, or treated like a princess. She didn’t think she owned the world or that it revolved around her. No. Rather, she wore a protective shell and had a fierceness about her that I knew grew out of need. A need to not only protect her physical well-being but her emotional one as well. She was strong and independent and didn’t seem to rely on anyone except herself. I hoped that continued to hold true, because relying on O’Shea would be a mistake. It wasn’t something I could prove. It was something I felt.

After I left my father’s, I had an overwhelming need to check on her. To make sure she was okay. I just doubted the slashing of her tires was a coincidence. There was something going on, but what, I had no fucking clue.

That was going to change.

The street was void of people as I pulled down it. I was easing by her place and noticed a light was on upstairs. Slowing, I looked around. The glow of that light illuminated a dark figure in the bushes.

I jerked my SUV to the curb and flew out the door. It was darker than fuck. The streetlights didn’t do shit to overpower the gloom of the weather. Whoever it was had already moved around the building before I reached the sidewalk. I was almost certain the perp was unaware of my approach. Quietly, I skimmed along the sidewall, the rain steadily falling and blurring my vision with every passing second. As I blinked the water away, I saw movement. The figure had just rounded the building. I ran and then stopped at the corner to peer around to the back. The perp stood on a small porch, two steps high. He had something in his hand. I pulled out my SIG Sauer and hugged the wall as I quietly crept along the brick. I’d jump him and find out who the hell he was and what he was doing here.

Suddenly, the back porch light flicked on and the door opened.

Elle appeared in the entry.

“Stay inside,” I snapped.

The figure, covered in black from head to toe, jumped down the two steps and took off at a dead run into the small park that butted up to the back of the building.

I tore after him.

“Logan!” Elle screamed.

I turned back, my heart in my throat. “Close and lock the fucking door.”

“No, Logan, don’t. Leave her alone.”

Her?

By the time I turned back, there was no trace of anyone having been there. Bay Village was dense with row houses, iron gates, and so many alleys. I had no idea where the perp had gone once he’d—she’d?—slipped into the park.

I tucked my SIG back inside the waistband of my jeans. “Fuck.”

Elle stepped outside with a small gun in her hand pointed at me.

“Put that away,” I ordered.

She stared at me. “What are you doing here?”

I stopped at the base of the stairs and surveyed the area one last time. There was nothing but the darkness. “Let’s get inside.”

She steadied her arms and kept her finger on the trigger. “Why did you do that?”

I wanted to get out of the fucking vast space. “Elle, let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

She was still pointing her .22-caliber at me.

Impatience took over and I mounted the porch stairs.

Her hands started to tremble.

I knew she wasn’t going to shoot me. “Give me the gun, Elle.”

She didn’t move. “No. Tell me what you’re doing here.”

To pacify her, I raised my hands surrender style. “I went to see my pop after I left you and on my way back to my hotel, I found myself needing to make sure you were all right.”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It was a feeling. But it’s the truth. I was driving by when I saw a light on upstairs and then saw someone near the front door. That’s when I got out of my SUV, but they were already around the building.”

“Why were you after her?”

I looked around again. “Who?”

She moved her shoulders as if the position was uncomfortable. “My sister.”

I gave her a puzzled look. “You think that was your sister?”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure.” Her hands were shaking even more now.

Maybe she was nervous, or maybe it was because she was barely dressed and had to be freezing. Maybe it was because I was supposed to believe her sister was in rehab. I didn’t. Still, I played along . . . for now. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” I reached and gently took the small pistol from her hand. “Come on, let’s get inside. We’ll talk there.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to be,” I whispered back.

She was still. I couldn’t tell if she was in shock or if something else was going on in her head.

I opened the screen door and placed my hand on the small of her back. I liked the feeling of it there. I shoved the wayward thought away and focused instead on ushering her inside, on keeping my movements impersonal.

The door opened into the kitchen, which was open to the family room. Once I flicked the light on, I looked at her. She was barely dressed. Impersonal. Keep it impersonal. Don’t worry about how she’s dressed, or not dressed as is the case. I spotted a blanket and made my legs move toward it. Water seeped onto the hardwood floors from my sneakers, and once I’d grabbed the blanket I wrapped it around her. Then I found a towel and cleaned up the water on the floor.

Keep busy.

A to B to C.

I couldn’t let my mind wander.

I had to think with my head, and not the one that was roaring at the close proximity to the unbearably sexy woman beside me.

She seemed to be zoning out as she stared at me.

“How about I make us that coffee?”

She nodded.

Okay.

Pot. On counter. Check.

Water. Sink. Check.

Coffee.

She was watching me. Knew what I needed next. “It’s in the cupboard,” she said, pointing above the pot.

My eyes lingered on her bare legs. They were long and lean.

Coffee. Check. Check. Check.

She sat at the table that divided the kitchen from the living area. She was facing me, but her head was turned toward the door.

The kitchen was somehow new but old-looking at the same time. Obviously it had been recently remodeled with new appliances, but everything else looked old, even the chandelier over the island. The white cabinets and deep-veined marble counters were a stark contrast to the dark floors and redbrick walls. Paintings and photographs of flowers blowing in the wind decorated most of the wall space. They were a mixture of modern and traditional.

I scanned the rest of the area. It was sparsely furnished but looked more than adequate. A single dark gray sofa, white carpet, red pillows, and large wooden tables filled the living room. The open staircase with its Plexiglas guard made it easy to spot the second floor.