Logan stepped in closer and lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. His eyes warmed again, the way they had last night. When he spoke, his tone was sweet, caring, and it tugged at all the places that made her want to go soft in his arms.
“Stormy, no one’s better at tracking than me. Let me keep you safe. Give me something to go on. Why three days? Why the timeline? Is he out of the country? In jail?”
Why did he have to make her feel so vulnerable? She needed to be strong, and with him she felt like strong wasn’t strong enough, like she needed him. After last night’s attack, she wasn’t so sure she didn’t.
“He’s found me everywhere I’ve ever gone. I barely escaped with my life, Logan. I…I’m afraid to tell you who I am, because I’m afraid he’ll make the connection somehow and then he’ll come after you.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I felt the scar on the back of your left shoulder and the other just beside your spine.”
Stella’s blood ran cold. She turned out of his reach, breathing hard, feeling the pain of the knife as if it were entering her skin for the first time. Kutcher had gotten her bad that time. She should have turned him in, shouldn’t have lied about her attacker, but she’d been too scared that he’d avoid the police and come back and finish the job.
Logan’s arms snaked around her waist, his cheek met hers again, and she closed her eyes, willing her tears away.
“You’re not alone in this. Let me help. Just tell me this, is he a free man?”
She shook her head.
“Good. That’s good. Then I have three days to make sure he stays in the pen.”
She was trembling, and she didn’t know if it was from the memories, the threat of Kutcher’s release, or the strength of Logan’s grip. His heat seeped into her skin through her thin cotton shirt, and she imagined his strength finding its way in, too. She held on to that thought as she reached for the door. Logan got to it first and held it closed.
“I’ve got to get to work.” She hated herself for sounding so ungrateful, but she was scared, and she liked Logan more than she probably should, which she knew could put him in danger. And he was as relentless as Kutcher, only in a good way. She had no clue how to handle the emotions swirling within her. Should she throw herself into Logan’s arms and accept the help he was willing to provide and give in to the feelings that were developing at the speed of light, or run as fast and as far away as she could get before Kutcher came after her?
He slid a cell phone into her pocket. “That has my number in it. Promise me you’ll use it if anyone bothers you today, or if you’re scared, or if you get a bad feeling and need someone who’ll understand that you’re not just freaking out.”
“You bought me a phone?”
“I have several. That one can’t be tracked. Now give me yours. Let’s see how this guy is tracking you down.”
She rolled her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I can read you like a book and I’m tired of asking nicely. You’re on the run from a guy who’s getting out of jail in a few days. You’re scared shitless that he’ll find you in this hellhole of a city. That tells me that he’s found you before, maybe more than once. You’re not a stupid woman, so he found you when you were running. Am I right?”
“What? How can you…?”
He arched a brow again. The look suited him. It was snarky, and coupled with the ticking up of the right side of his mouth, it softened his serious edge. Knowing he wasn’t going to let it go, she dug into her purse and handed him the phone.
He scrolled through her settings. “You don’t use a password?”
She shrugged. “Why? Who’s going to look at my phone?”
“Where did you get your phone?” He took out the SIM card and the battery.
“My phone? Kutcher gave me the phone, but it’s my plan, so it’s not like he can track me with a find my phone app or anything. Besides, he’s in jail, so…”
He shook his head. “This is just one way he’s probably tracking you. People smuggle cell phones into jails all the time.”
She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. How could she have been so stupid? “You mean…all this time I thought he had people tracking me, it was that stupid phone?” She fisted her hands and groaned.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Let’s focus on what we need to do. What else do you carry with you that you’ve had since you left Mystic?”
“What do you mean? Like my purse? My clothes? I feel like such an idiot.”
“Stormy, you’re not an idiot. You’re just not a drug-running bastard who knows all the tricks. Think of things you don’t wash. Suitcase? Wallet? I saw a picture next to your bed. Did you bring that from home or have it made since you left?”
Stella thought of the implications of what he was saying, and the pieces began to fall into place.
“You think he bugged my stuff?” She felt like she’d swallowed a brick. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Oh God.”
She handed him her purse. “I took this and everything in it. My backpacks are in my closet.”