Renee Ryan - The Lawman Claims His Bride

“Slow down, Logan.” The sheriff held up his hand between them. “It’s too soon to form any conclusions.”

“I said,” he clenched his jaw so hard a muscle jumped in his neck, “Let. Her. Go.”

“Stop and think,” the sheriff suggested. “If someone else murdered Kincaid that means Megan probably saw him.”

She shook her head fiercely. “I remember no one.”

Neither man acknowledged her.

“Logan.” The sheriff’s tone turned low and insistent. “He won’t know she’s lost her memory. She could be in grave danger.”

Logan drew in a sharp breath. “Is that why you locked her in here? To keep her out of his reach?”

“It’s one of the reasons.” The sheriff gave Megan a sad smile, one filled with unmistakable remorse. “But not the only one.”

Without warning, Logan lurched forward. He grabbed the sheriff by the lapels and then slammed him against the wall behind him. “You might have kept her safe from a killer, but you’ve also broadcasted to the world, including Kincaid’s gang, that you think she’s the murderer.”

Looking cool and composed, Sheriff Scott responded with an even tone. “I’m sorry, Logan, but the truth of the matter is she could be the murderer.”

Logan shoved his forearm under the sheriff’s chin in a brutal choke hold. “You might as well have drawn a target on her back,” he growled, ignoring the sheriff’s last comment. “Men like Kincaid never travel alone. His gang will want retribution.”

As though he knew Logan needed to vent his anger, the sheriff still didn’t try to move. Or fight back. “I stand by my decision.”

Several heartbeats passed. And then several more.

“Logan, think this through with your brain and not your emotions. Megan is in danger. Whether she committed the crime or witnessed it, she’s safer here than anywhere else in town.”

After one last shove, Logan threw his hands in the air. Breathing hard, he pressed his palm against the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. There was such sorrow in his eyes, maybe a twinge of remorse. But mostly Megan noted ruthless determination in his gaze. He’d come to a conclusion.

What was he planning to do?

“No, Logan,” Sheriff Scott warned. “I won’t let you release her. It’s too dangerous.”

Logan dismissed the words with a hard flick of his wrist. “We’ll discuss that later.”

With careful movements, he sat beside Megan on the cot. The springs gave a series of loud creaks before settling underneath the additional weight.

He touched her wound, then dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Have you seen a doctor yet? Did you suffer any other…injuries?”

He spoke so slowly, so carefully. She could tell he was trying not to frighten her but he couldn’t contain the fear in his own eyes, fear for her, fear for what might have happened when she was alone with Cole.

In that, at least, she could relieve his mind.

Swallowing back a wave of shyness, she forced herself to hold Logan’s gaze. “Dr. Shane cleaned the cut on my neck and then he gave me a tonic to help me sleep. But I…” She shook her head again. This time the gesture sent tiny white dots across her vision. “…can’t sleep.”

“Logan, don’t do this now,” the sheriff urged. “She doesn’t remember. She’s been—”

Logan held up a hand to stave off the interruption. “I want to hear the rest from her.”

Nodding in agreement, she pressed her hand to her stomach. She knew how hard this was for him. It was hard for her, too. But they had to speak of this now. And then never again. “He didn’t hurt me in any other way.” At least not physically.

Cole hadn’t forced himself on her. There would have been signs. But that didn’t mean Megan had escaped free of harm. In truth, she feared the consequences of her night with the outlaw were far worse than cuts and bruises.

Exposed only indirectly to her mother’s sinful lifestyle, Megan had thought she understood the gift she’d been given as a resident at Charity House. The gift of escape. The gift of respectability.

Now, as she faced Logan for the first time in five years, she could no longer dodge the one question she’d avoided since Sheriff Scott had locked her in this cell. Because of this single incident, would she end up like her mother, alone and desperate, with no one to love?

Logan followed Trey outside the jailhouse and onto the planked sidewalk lining the street. Night closed in around him like a menacing presence, taunting him. He hardly noticed. Anger still rode him hard, but he forced himself to focus on the facts first. No emotion. No giving in to despair. Just cold, hard logic.

“All right, Trey.” He spun around to face the other man. “Tell me the rest, the part you couldn’t say in front of Megan.”

Trey rubbed a weary hand down his face and then leaned back on one foot. “You’ve heard most of it.”

Not by half. “The blood on her dress. Is it hers or Kincaid’s?”

“Mostly Kincaid’s.”

Logan’s breath caught in his chest. Megan had been attacked. By a very bad man. He wasn’t sorry the outlaw was dead, but there were too many details that needed explaining. And Megan couldn’t remember what had happened to her. That left them with very little to go on.

At least one thing was clear in Logan’s mind. “She didn’t kill Kincaid.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, we do.” A lump rose in his throat. He shoved it down with a hard swallow. “From what you described—the knife’s angled position through bone and flesh, the direction of the blade’s entry from above not below—she’s obviously innocent. Even if Kincaid had been on his knees, she’s not strong enough to have stabbed him in that manner.”

Trey looked out in the distance before answering. When he turned his head back to Logan, his gaze was filled with remorse. “Under ordinary circumstances, I would agree with you. But Megan was brutally attacked. The will to survive, the power of the moment, fear, any of those factors could have come into play and given her the strength to defend herself.”

“With a knife to the man’s chest? Through bone? No. That doesn’t make sense.”

“You know it’s possible. Not probable, but possible.”

Logan recognized the unbending look in Trey’s eyes as he spoke. The other man wasn’t going to draw any conclusions about the murder until he had concrete information. That did not bode well for Megan’s immediate freedom. Unacceptable.

“Release her into my custody.”

“No.”

“I have the perfect place to take her, a place where she’ll be safe.”

“She’s safe enough here.”

“Not as much as she would be with me.”

“Look, Logan, I know the situation seems bleak right now, but all is not lost. God has not abandoned Megan. Or you. Have patience, my friend. Pray for guidance. The Lord will direct your way.”

Right. He was supposed to stand around and wait for God to free Megan. The same God who’d allowed the attack to occur in the first place.

Logan didn’t have that much faith.

And now he was through taking the passive route. He was through shoving his emotions aside in the name of reason. To what end? To stand around and talk about a silent God who didn’t seem to care what was happening here?

“Release Megan into my custody,” Logan demanded again.

“I said, no.”

Logan went for Trey’s throat. But this time the other man was ready. At the last moment, he shifted to his left. Logan stumbled into empty air. Before he caught his balance, Trey spun him around by the shoulder and slammed him back against the wall, securing him in place with the same choke hold Logan had used earlier.