Stefanie London - Mr. Dangerously Sexy

“I should take you to the hospital,” Logan said, continuing to inspect her.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I’ll have to keep an eye on you in case there are signs of concussion.” He scanned her face. “If anything feels off, you have to tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” Her eyes darted to the dark patch of forest in front of her.

“He’s gone, Addi.”

That’s when she noticed the gun in his hand. “You didn’t shoot him?”

“I’m not going to open fire on the side of the road.” He looked down at her, less analytical this time. His rich brown eyes searched her face. “Not unless I need to. You know the rule.”

“Guns are the last resort,” she repeated her father’s words and pressed her hand to her head. Squeezing her eyes shut against the throbbing, her heart rate slowed. “But the bastard got away.”

“I wasn’t going to risk leaving you by yourself in the car in case you were hurt.” He pulled her to his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. “You come first, remember?”

Her stomach pitched. This was how he’d held her before all her boundaries turned to shit two years ago. That simple movement of tucking her head against the crook of his neck, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world, had obliterated her. Her hand came to his chest, her fingers curling into his soft cotton T-shirt.

For a moment they stood there, silent and unmoving. His hand cupped the back of her head, his warmth seeping into her. The furious beating of his heart vibrated under her fingertips. From the outside no one would know that he was worried—he hadn’t broken a sweat, hadn’t lost his cool. But she could feel his fear. His care.

“What the hell do we do now?” she asked, pushing away from him and bracing her hand against the damaged car. She couldn’t deal with Logan being kind to her, not knowing that soon she’d be leaving him. Distance was important right now. “I hit something pretty hard on the way down. I have no idea if I can drive this thing.”

Logan crouched and checked under the car. “It’s possible you’ve bent the axle. Let’s leave it here and I’ll call a tow truck when we get to the cottage.”

They grabbed her things and walked up to where Logan’s car sat on the side of the road. The red truck was still there, so he took a photo of the plate and tried the doors. Locked. Nothing helpful could be seen through the windows.

An hour later they were settled at the cottage. Logan had called a tow company for Addison’s car and had reported the incident to the police. Tomorrow they’d head to the local station and make a statement in person. But chances were, whoever had chased Addison off the road would go back to collect his vehicle. Logan couldn’t leave Addison alone at the cottage, however. And potentially putting her in harm’s way by taking her back to the scene wasn’t an option, either. So the pictures of the vehicle would have to do.

“He’ll probably clean it out and then dump it somewhere,” Logan said as they sat at the dining table eating her lasagna. He was in full-on work mode now. “It’ll turn up, but if he’s smart there won’t be much for the police to go on.”

“You really think it’s the guy who wrote me the email?” She poured them both another glass of wine, concentrating so that her hand didn’t shake.

“It would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t. I mean, road rage happens, but if you say you didn’t do anything to antagonize the guy—”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why would some stranger run you off the road for no reason?” He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, it has to be him.”

“But how would he know that I was coming out to the cottage? That I’d be on that road?”

“How would he know your email address? He might be following you. He might have hacked into your laptop. It could be a number of things.” Logan forked a piece of lasagna into his mouth. “In any case, we’ll figure it out. No need to worry, we’re in this together.”

“I’m not worried,” she lied.

Maybe it was stupid, but she didn’t want Logan to suspect how much the incident had shaken her. Sometimes she wished she’d gone into the security side of the business like she’d wanted to—then she’d be better prepared for these kinds of incidents. Instead, she’d studied business because she had a natural talent for numbers and her father had said that’s what the company needed from her. What he needed from her. And she never could say no to him.

Still, she wondered if he’d only said that as another way of trying to protect her. In reality, all it had done was leave her without the respect of her staff.

She shoved the thoughts aside. The last thing she needed was to crumble now and prove to Logan that she couldn’t handle this situation.

“You have every right to be worried, Addi.” He looked up from his meal. “Most people would be in pieces after what you went through tonight.”

“I’m not most people. I’ve heard all of Dad’s stories and all of yours. I can deal with this.”

His eyes softened and a ghost of a smile passed over his full lips. “I am well aware of that.”

“I don’t want you to think that you need to be my bodyguard or anything.” She pushed her food around on her plate for a moment before abandoning it and reaching for her wine. “I’ll be okay.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but instead he rubbed the back of his neck. Whenever Logan was trying to figure something out, he kneaded that particular spot. It was the tell that’d allowed her to kick his butt in poker for years. For some reason, it made her belly flip watching his strong hands work at the muscle like that.

Her mind wouldn’t let her forget how it felt to have those hands on her. Caressing her. Holding her. Dragging her into position. He was the perfect blend of rough and smooth—hard and soft—and he walked the line between them with delicious ease.

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes smoothing over her. Filling her with liquid heat.

“What if I don’t want you hanging around and being my shadow?” Or worse, what if she did want it?

“Worried it might upset the guys you date?” He raised a brow. “I can be discreet.”

It would have pleased her to no end to tell him that guys were lining up at her door, but the truth was far lonelier than that. Most of the men she met were terrified of Logan—he was like an overprotective big brother. Except he happened to be a crack shot and had a military background to boot.

When she started dating someone, he’d make a point to “drop in” and introduce himself to the guy. Not once had he outright told someone to stay away from her, but then again her dates didn’t usually stick around long enough for her to find out if Logan would take that next step.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said drily.

“What? You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Are you going to sit in the corner and watch while I take a guy to bed?” It was clear from the way his jaw twitched that her words had made their mark. “What? You moved on after we slept together, so why shouldn’t I?”

“I told you I regretted what happened.” His voice was tight. Brittle.

“It’s too late for regrets.” She carved off a small piece of lasagna and forked it into her mouth. It tasted of nothing. “And you’re not my father, Logan. You don’t get to vet my dates.”

“I know that.”

“And you can’t keep watch over me twenty-four/seven.”

He folded his arms over his chest, the muscles curving outward. Defined and honed to perfection. “I will be until we figure out who’s after you.”