Renee Ryan - The Lawman Claims His Bride

“She looked rather…” Mattie screwed her face into a look of deep concentration “…comfortable. Yes, that’s the word.”

Logan clenched his teeth together. Mattie was hiding something from him. “Comfortable, how?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder. “Her head was propped on a pillow and she was covered with a blanket. That sort of comfortable.”

A thousand questions exploded in his brain. But Logan kept his breathing slow and easy, his mind focused on his questions. “Could she have gotten that way by herself?”

“No.” Mattie’s fingers drummed along the chair’s rim. She continued avoiding direct eye contact. “The blanket was tucked neatly around her.”

Clinging hard to his composure, Logan worked the new information around in his head. Instinct told him there was only one explanation. The real killer had moved Megan to the settee. And then—then—he’d covered her with a blanket.

But why?

Neither gesture rang true.

Despite the fact that the details didn’t add up, Logan was certain of one thing. Megan hadn’t killed Kincaid. Now he could take her away from here, to the one place where he knew she’d be safe.

Then why did a sense of foreboding slide down his spine? What was he missing?

“I need you to think hard, Mattie. Did you see anything suspicious last night? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Her fingers tightened on the chair, the gesture turning her knuckles white. “I’ve been over the events in my head a hundred times. Nothing comes to mind.” She took a shuddering breath, but there didn’t seem to be any subterfuge in the act. “Nothing, that is, that will change the very real fact that Cole Kincaid is dead.”

An odd choice of words.

For once in their volatile eight-year acquaintance, Logan sensed she was telling the truth.

And yet…

There was something still missing from her tale, some valuable piece of information that would fit the other details smoothly together. Unfortunately, Logan had been down similar roads with Mattie Silks. She would never volunteer everything she knew, not unless he asked the right questions. If only he knew the right ones to ask.

The Lord will direct your way…

Logan rubbed a hand down his face. Please, Lord, what’s my next step?

As soon as he voiced the prayer in his head, he knew what he had to do. “I want to interview everyone who was in this building last night,” he said. “Starting with your girls.”

After a momentary hesitation, Mattie nodded. She actually nodded in agreement!

As much as Logan wanted to rely on her cooperation, he would be wise to remember this woman had been known to harbor criminals in her own bedroom. She could not be trusted. Not fully.

Dig too deep, Marshal, and you might not like what you find.

What was she hiding from him?

“When would you like to begin questioning my girls?” she asked.

Her cooperation was at odds with the Mattie Silks he knew. “After I look around the crime scene.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Cole’s body is already gone. Sheriff Scott’s deputy took him away over an hour ago.”

“I want to see the room where he was stabbed.” Trey was always thorough, but maybe he’d overlooked an important piece of evidence. Logan clung to that small hope.

Mattie pushed away from the chair and started out. “Follow me.” Without a single argument, coy look or detour, she led Logan directly to her private sitting room.

He didn’t second-guess her continued cooperation. Yet.

“Here we are,” she said, moving aside so he could enter the room ahead of her.

With a quick glance, Logan surveyed the small, confining space. Cataloguing the contents of the room, he counted a fireplace, a small sofa, a winged-back chair and a bookcase actually filled with books.

Surprised by the hominess of the decor, Logan worked his way around the perimeter quickly, with a smooth economy of motion that belied his sense of urgency.

There was something here. He could feel it.

Noting the trace of blood on the mantel, he ran his hand along the wood, searching for the groove where Kincaid had hit his head. After he’d attacked Meg—

Focus. Logan had to focus on the facts alone. No emotion. No thoughts of Megan. No dwelling on what had happened to her in this room.

“Give me another ten minutes to look around,” he said through a tight jaw. “Then send in the first girl.”

“Whatever you wish.” She turned to go.

“And Mattie?” he called after her retreating back. “I’ll need the names of last night’s clients, as well. All their names.”

She stiffened at the request, but didn’t turn around. “Are you sure this is the route you wish to take, Marshal?”

The woman was warning him off? A huge mistake on her part, especially if Logan found out she had a personal connection to the killer.

“One way or another I will find out who murdered Kincaid,” Logan said in the kind of ruthless tone a woman like Mattie understood. “I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it could mean life or death for Megan.”

Mattie lowered her head and sighed. “I’ll draw up a complete list of names later today.”

“Thank you.”

Normally, those two simple words would earn him a snide remark. But when Mattie spun around to face him, her eyes were filled with gratitude. And genuine sincerity.

“It’s good you’re home, Logan. Megan needs you, now more than ever.”

Caught off guard by the woman’s heartfelt words, Logan didn’t have a ready response. What the woman didn’t realize, what he hadn’t fully understood himself until last night, was how much he needed Megan in return.

And no matter who tried to stand in his way this time, he would never desert Megan again.

Megan burrowed deeper under the blanket and forced her mind to relax. But no matter what position she attempted, peace eluded her. Too tired to sit up, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to capture a few moments of sleep.

Every part of her body hurt, resulting in an allover ache that went far beyond the physical. The pain brought an odd sense of relief, a bold reminder she was alive.

Alive was good. That meant God still had a plan for her life. Megan clung to that hope, even as dark thoughts tried to surface.

Shivering from a sudden burst of cold air, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and took a slow, steady breath. The smell of blood and death hung in the air. She didn’t want to know why that scent was so strong. Why it seemed so real, so tangible.

Best to forget, a voice whispered in her head. Yes.

Yes. She let her mind go blank, let her sense of time and place garble in her head. The nothingness soothed her.

Distant, hollow voices buzzed around her, like an annoying mosquito.

She took another, slower breath.

At last, sleep began to claim her, promising a temporary respite, if only she could give in to the blessed darkness. She reached out to the void. But then the watery sounds in her head began to form into clear, distinct words.

“You must allow me to wake her.” The urgent request came from somewhere close by. “It’s not good for her to sleep this long.”

A low, menacing growl followed. “I said, leave…her…alone.” There was a deadly calm in the carefully spoken words. And an unmistakable threat. “I mean it, Shane.”

Dr. Shane was here?

“You have to trust I know what I’m doing, Logan.”

Logan, too?

Megan wanted to see him for herself, wanted to know he was real and not a dream like she feared. But opening her eyes required too much effort so she tucked the blanket under her chin and prayed for sleep to return.