“I’d drive you home, but you made it clear that you’re not getting in the car with a stranger. I thought about calling you a cab, but I have the feeling you’re not the type of woman to take handouts, and given that you finished your shift because you needed the paycheck, I doubt you want to spend money on cab fare.” He shrugged. “I’m a private investigator, not a rapist. That guy who attacked you is still out there, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”
She’d been so overwrought with trying to move past what had happened, then getting caught up with Kutcher being released from jail, that she hadn’t thought about what might happen next with the asshole who’d attacked her. No wonder Logan’s eyes were darting all over. Pride wouldn’t let her accept his offer. She wasn’t a damsel in distress, and she didn’t want to come across as one. Not even to the handsome PI who wanted to protect her. It was probably a game to him anyway. I am man, big protector; now fuck me good.
The thought made her smile, because she’d like to do just that.
She spun on her heels and walked away without a word, knowing damn well he’d follow. Which also made her smile, although she gritted her teeth to keep from revealing it.
The long city blocks were never really dark, though they were eerily dim. Even the back streets seemed to be illuminated by the energy of the city. The trees were in full bloom, and for a moment Stella allowed herself to pretend she was back in Mystic, walking to her apartment along the pretty streets, without fear, without a sexy bodyguard whose presence felt much bigger when it was just the two of them in the night. She reveled in the memories of walking along the harbor and wanted desperately to one day be able to return to her hometown and feel safe again. She didn’t know if she ever wanted to live there again, but being able to see her mother without looking over her shoulder would be a gift from the heavens above. She couldn’t imagine ever having that again.
She couldn’t imagine making it back to Mystic alive once Kutcher was released from jail. He was the epitome of an abuser—overly apologetic and manipulative. Like all the other mind-fucked women who stay with abusers, she’d fallen for his ploys and had taken him back after the first few times, but when she’d finally broken things off, he’d become the worst kind of stalker, appearing out of nowhere and attacking her. If he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anyone else to have her either. She found out too late that he’d been at the party where she met him because he was selling drugs to one of the wealthy guests. She hadn’t realized how big his drug-dealing business was until she’d made the mistake of telling him she knew about his operation. That was when he’d turned from leaving bruises to wanting her dead.
When they turned onto her street, Stella felt Logan move closer, tension surrounding him like a bubble; he felt dense and powerful. She didn’t live in the best neighborhood. As they walked around that final corner and headed down the deserted sidewalk, the sounds of cars and people gave way to eerie silence, with the random dog barking in the distance. She was fully aware of the moment she shed the false security that city nightlife provided and her armor clicked into place. She knew that all it took was one night, such as tonight, where in the midst of a crowded bar, evil could pick a target and make its move, and no one would be the wiser.
She shot a glance at Logan—jaw clenched, eyes narrow and scrutinizing, fists at the ready.
No one but Logan Wild.
“This is it,” she said as they came to the alley that led to the back of the row house where she rented a room. She took a step toward the alley, and he gently grabbed her arm, then stepped ahead of her, leaving no room for negotiation. He was paving the way. Ensuring her safe arrival.
She’d never met anyone like Logan before. Even the guys she’d grown up with, the ones who’d known her from the time she was a schoolgirl and had told her that they’d be there for her when they first heard about what Kutcher was doing, had abandoned her. Fear was a powerful thing. They’d acted as if bad luck were contagious. Her friends had all put space between them in the final days before she’d left town. Only that poor man at the gas station where she’d mistakenly stopped and used her credit card for food had tried to stand up to Kutcher. She’d learned on the news that he’d ended up in the hospital. The upside was that Kutcher had landed in jail for a few months; the downside was that the poor gas station attendant had spent weeks healing from broken ribs and lacerations. She still carried that guilt around her neck like a noose. She hadn’t even been able to thank him because she feared that making contact would give Kutcher a fresh scent to follow.
She unlocked the door, and Logan put an arm out in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’ll check it out first.”
She rolled her eyes at his insistence but couldn’t deny the relief of knowing someone else would endure that first few seconds of what if instead of her. That steady panic that grew every night when she walked home and then first stepped foot into her basement apartment.