In the end, Logan’s team simply knocked one of the welded door frames through its jambs and away from the block wall in a single, solid piece. I didn’t mind walking out on level ground, but when we reached the gravel walkway, a fourth man—dressed in cargo pants and a loose black T-shirt—tossed Logan a set of keys. He frowned down at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You sure are hard on cars.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping a smear of grease from my arm. “I liked that one, too.”
He smiled, and gestured toward my filthy jeans. “Don’t worry, we’ll take you back for your things.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, tucking the folded paper tighter in my hands.
Logan led me toward our new car, a black, unidentifiable sedan with dark tinted windows. “A hot shower and fresh clothes always makes it better.”
I smiled. “Is that so?”
He nodded sagely and said, “Trust me, Brianna. I’m an expert on close calls.”
I wasn’t sure whether he’d meant Morgan’s men, or the kiss.
By the time we reached Southmont, the crinkles were pressed out of the folded papers inside my grip. I wouldn’t open them until I was back in my room. I couldn’t. But when Brendan met us at the door, ready to escort me there, I found out Logan had other plans.
“Brianna,” Brendan said, taking no notice of Logan or his own guards, “I’m so glad to have you back. We’ve been working around the clock to tighten down all points of access on the property. No matter how stealth, there will be no more incidents, I promise you.” He reached toward me. “Let show you to your room.”
“She’ll be staying in mine.”
It was all he said, and as Logan took a step forward, Brendan placed a hand on his arm. Logan’s gaze went purposefully from the contact to Brendan’s eyes.
Brendan’s jaw tightened, but he lowered the hand. “The security updates on Brianna’s room are complete. I assure you there is no risk.”
“I’ll make that call,” Logan said. He urged me forward before calling over his shoulder, “By the way, my team will be bringing in a few of Morgan’s men.” Logan glanced at his watch. “In about fifteen minutes. I suggest you find a safe place to confine them.”
I didn’t look back, but I could imagine the expression on Brendan’s face.
“Logan,” I whispered, “How do you know he doesn’t have the same surveillance in your room?”
He didn’t look at me. “Because my surveillance would show me that.”
We came to the foot of the stairs and he turned toward me, glancing at the folded papers pressed in my hands. “Do you want me to call Emily?”
“I’m not ready yet.” I shook my head. I’d made a habit of hiding things from Emily; I couldn’t do that now, no matter what the papers said. “I do. Just … not yet.”
He brushed my hair aside and squeezed my shoulder. “Ellin,” he said, still looking at me, and I was momentarily confused until she stepped from behind the balustrade.
“Mr. Black.”
“Can you bring Brianna some fresh clothes and a bite to eat?”
“Of course,” she answered, turning to go.
“To my room,” Logan added.
She disappeared into the corridor and Logan said, “Come on, Brianna, let’s get you a shower.”
Logan’s advice had been dead-on. I’d come out of the washroom to find my own clothes, pressed and folded, waiting for me in the small mirrored room between the shower and bedroom. It felt good to be clean and barefoot, safe within the Division walls. The sandwiches were just icing on the cake.
“Thank you,” I said over the last bite of warm bread. “You were right.”
The bedroom was large, but it didn’t contain a table or connect to a separate sitting area the way my suites had. Instead, a spacious love seat was centered on the wall opposite a king size four-poster bed. I slid my plate away from the edge of the coffee table and leaned back into plush cushions.
Logan smiled. “I would never lie.” I smirked and he added, “Not to you, anyway.”
“You’d be the first.” At his sideways glance, I sighed. “That sounded bitter, I’m sorry. It’s just really exhausting sometimes.” I pulled the folded papers from my back pocket and laid them on the side table for when I worked up the nerve to open them. I tried to listen to my instincts, to heed those quiet pushes as my mother had taught me, but sometimes it was hard to tell when something needed to wait for the right time and when my own doubts were driving the reluctance. This felt like me.
Logan leaned closer to run a finger over the scratch on the inside of my forearm. “Climbing through the roof hatch?”