FOUR
Logan took ground-eating strides toward Skyler. She should look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He still infuriated her, but there was no denying he was something to look at—his chin wide and chiseled at hard angles, black hair thick and wavy. But it was those steely-blue eyes that had always gotten to her.
Intense. Dark. Maybe brooding at times.
So what? She couldn’t stop the attraction, but she could stop herself from reacting to it and doing something stupid.
She fisted her hands, letting her nails bite into the sensitive flesh.
“Ready to go?” His mouth turned up in a lazy smile that was in direct contrast to his sharp focus, sending her pulse beating faster.
Disgusted with her betraying emotions, she pushed off the gurney faster than she should have and nearly lost her balance. She grabbed the wall to remain upright. She waited for the wooziness to pass, and caught sight of small dark stains dotting the alley. Marty’s blood?
The feel and taste of his gun in her mouth came roaring back, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the ensuing panic. She wouldn’t lose it now. Not here. Not in front of other law enforcement officers and certainly not in front of Logan.
“You actually hit Marty?” she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and fear.
“Looks like I grazed him. My team is getting a bulletin out to local E.R.s and urgent care clinics in case he seeks medical attention.” His phone rang, drawing his attention. He frowned at the screen, his deep scowl letting her know something was wrong.
“Excuse me a minute.” He stepped out of earshot and paced. Back and forth. Over and over, quick steps across the alley and back, his hands plunged into his hair.
Seemed as if some things didn’t change. He was still so driven to succeed he rarely stood still. It had taken her a year to get him to let his guard down and fully relax around her. He’d obviously returned to his breakneck pace in Chicago. She was sure he’d burn out long before he aged out of the bureau.
He stowed his phone, that frown deepening even more as he rejoined her. “We can go now.”
She knew better than to ask about his call and marched toward the end of the alley. The hum of conversation from bystanders greeted her before she spotted them crowding behind wooden barriers. They pointed at her, and she heard cameras clicking. Looky-loos. She should’ve expected them, but she’d let her thoughts of Logan distract her. They were searching for anything sensational to grasp on to from the robbery. Maybe they’d tweet about it or post pictures on Facebook.
The last thing she needed today.
She slowly lowered her head and pushed forward to get out of the limelight as quickly as possible. Black wingtip shoes planted themselves in her path, forcing her to stop. She raised her head to find a male dressed in khakis, a white button-down shirt and a tie decorated with blindingly bright Christmas ornaments. He shoved a microphone into her face.
“Paul Parsons, News Channel Four. We heard that you were injured in the robbery, Deputy Brennan.”
“I’m fine.” Skyler tried to sidestep him, but he jumped in front of her.
“Are you working with the FBI to bring Clyde in?” Excitement lifted his tone.
Logan stepped forward. “Deputy Brennan’s assisting us, as are all of the witnesses. Now if you’ll excuse us, she needs to get to the E.R. to have her injury checked out.” Logan shouldered the reporter out of Skyler’s way and his hand came to rest on her back, urging her toward the crowd. This wasn’t the time to argue against his touch, so she allowed it and hurried ahead.
“You heard it on our station first,” Parsons said in his reporter’s tone. “Portland’s own Deputy Skyler Brennan will be working with the FBI on the Bonnie and Clyde investigation.”
“Like that’s newsworthy,” Skyler mumbled and gingerly climbed over the barrier.
“Deputy Brennan, wait, please.” Parsons’s voice came from behind her.
Skyler groaned. Even if she could dredge up the energy to bolt away from him, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford to antagonize the press when she was still seeking positive publicity for the shelter’s upcoming Christmas party. She turned slowly to keep the world from spinning.
Parsons rushed up to her again, the microphone now shoved in his pocket. “I’d really like to do an exclusive interview with you. People want feel-good stories this time of year, and we could combine your work for the shelter with the way you kept the hostages safe. You know, a local hero kind of thing.”
She was far from a hero, but the shelter could use as much publicity as possible to raise awareness. Still, connecting the shelter to a violent bank robbery wouldn’t be a good idea. “I really—”
“This isn’t the time for this discussion,” Logan barged in. “She needs to see a doctor.” Before Parsons could respond, Logan parted the crowd with one hand and urged her forward with the other.
She allowed him to direct her, but her irritation flared with each step. How dare he presume to know what she wanted? Sure, she didn’t want to do the interview, but he had no right to make choices for her. Not now. Not when he was out of her life.
After moving out of sight of the crowd, she shot him a testy look. “What was up with that? You have no right to speak for me. I let it go the first time Parsons asked because I didn’t want to be interviewed today, but interfering the second time says you’re planning to make a habit of it.”
“What?” he asked, clearly confused.
“When we were together, it might’ve been different. I’d at least try to understand if you spoke up on my behalf like that, but you gave up that right when you walked out.” She rushed ahead of him. The world whirled in front of her, and she instantly regretted it.
“Skyler, wait.” He hurried up beside her and steadied her. She could barely abide his touch, but it was either his hand or a face-plant on the concrete.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I wasn’t trying to talk for you—I just didn’t like the way he kept stopping you from getting to the hospital.”
She twisted to stare up at him, sending a breath-stealing jolt through her head. Or was it his nearness after all these years that took her breath away? Seeing his eyes up close. Smelling his expensive cologne. Remembering their time together, always remembering.
He didn’t pull away or say a word. His gaze locked on hers.
“Skyler,” he finally whispered as his hand lifted to her face. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheekbone, his touch feeling like a branding iron. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Her heart leaped at the open regret in his voice, but his comment also reminded her of the lonely nights she’d spent at home after the Christmas holidays, longing to see him. She shook off his fingers and forced herself to move back. “As you said, now’s not the time for such things. I really need to see that doctor.”
He frowned and gestured down the street. “My car’s at the end of the block.”
His car. Here in Portland. Not in Chicago.
“When were you going to tell me you were back in town?” she blurted out before she thought better of continuing their personal discussion. “Or weren’t you planning to contact me?”
“I haven’t moved back here, Skyler.”
Disappointment she didn’t want to feel lodged in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Then why are you working the bank robbery?”
“I was successful in solving a similar robbery spree in Chicago, so the bureau assigned me to head up this investigation.”
Something in his tone led her to believe he wasn’t being completely forthright with her. Not a surprise. He’d kept the job opportunity in Chicago from her for a month before telling her he was leaving, and he had even less reason to be candid now. But it still hurt. Would continue to hurt. Which was why she needed to give her statement and be done with this investigation.
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