“I don’t think he does it on purpose,” I said after a pause.
“It doesn’t matter,” Logan answered, knowing I was talking about Brendan’s poor decision making. “He put you in danger.” He glanced at the side mirror before changing lanes. “He put all of us in danger.”
He was right. After Morgan had placed sway on so many of the men, no one could be safely trusted unless I’d personally searched their connections, seen for myself they weren’t under his control. But that wasn’t Brendan’s fault. He was confident in his own men, allowed them access to all of the security systems.
Because we hadn’t told him everything.
I looked out the window then, the outskirts of the city passing by in a blur of shadow and light. Headlights reflected off darkened windows, everything closed down too early. I didn’t recognize the view. I opened my mouth to ask where we were going when he turned off the main road, taking a few scenic side streets before pulling into the drive of a three story apartment building. The path curved around the back where a second story parking garage was nestled between it and another building. Logan pulled the car between two similar looking sedans and got out, carrying my bag.
The closing door echoed across the walled-in garage as he placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward the elevator. It was sleek and stainless, and apparently private. No buttons or numbers lined the wall, merely a small touchscreen that Logan pressed a finger to before the doors sealed us in. On the top floor, we exited to a small foyer where Logan keyed in his passcode to the main door. As he released the lever, he looked back at me, expression unreadable as he paused for just a moment before finally opening the door. He took my hand, walking me forward as he dropped the bag onto a side table.
The apartment was beautiful. Not in the lavish way the Division houses were; there was no excess here. The furniture was all clean lines, centered in a large, open living space that led to a kitchen and dining area. Of the two doors, one remained open, revealing a single bedroom and private bath. The east wall was solid glass.
Logan noticed what caught my attention. “It’s one-way glass. It’s completely safe. No one even knows this place exists.”
I looked up at him. “No one?”
He pressed his lips. “Aern is the only one who knows where it is, but he wouldn’t expect me to bring you here.”
His words brought abrupt understanding, and my hand automatically went toward the flutter in my stomach. I stopped it halfway, smoothing the hem of my shirt before sliding the hand into a back pocket. Unable to face him, I stared straight ahead, across the empty apartment into the open door of a bedroom, Logan’s bedroom, and was only reminded we were entirely alone. In his home.
Chapter Eight
Histories
Logan gestured toward the open door, changing the subject before I had time for further reaction. “The bedroom, bath.” He abruptly turned toward the kitchen, remembering we’d left our dinner uneaten at Southmont. “Hungry?”
I nodded numbly. “Sure. Thanks.”
He walked past me to the kitchen, brushing the arm that was braced into my jeans pocket. I swallowed hard, and turned to follow him.
Logan was at ease here, suddenly more casual than I’d seen him before. He rested an arm on the open pantry door, staring in as he decided on dinner. “There’s not much left,” he said, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder before reaching in for some canned vegetables. “I’ve not been here lately.”
He left the door open as he shifted to place a saucepan on the stove, and I peered into the cabinet. Logan noticed my slow smile. “What is it?”
I stared at the clear plastic jars with bright red lids. “Peanut butter.”
He watched my smile for a heartbeat longer than was probably socially acceptable, and it faltered as that nervous thrill resurfaced. Logan returned his attention to the saucepan.
I ran a finger over the dark granite counter top. “Is there something I can do?”
He pursed his lips. “Actually, you could stir this while I go change.”
“Sure,” I said, and watched in mock outrage as he turned down the burner. “You don’t trust me for five minutes?”
One brow raised, and in that simple gesture he reminded me that I’d just grinned goofily over peanut butter. I chuckled despite myself.