Chapter Twelve
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When Logan asked that their wedding might be sooner rather than later, he expected Lena to protest, but she agreed far more readily than he expected.
“Why buck the pattern?” she said lightly when he asked her about it.
Logan knew what she meant; all her sisters had married less than a month or two after meeting their husbands. Why should she be different? Thank God for tradition.
He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but something was pushing him to speed up the process. For one thing, it would get Jack here quickly. He hadn’t seen Alice display interest in any other man—except the one who had offered her the movie job. He wouldn’t call that interest, either, except he’d seen her on her phone texting more and more often these past few weeks. When she signed off, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled. A quiet question or two revealed it was all job-related. Whether her excitement was for the work—or her contact on the movie—Logan couldn’t say, but his gut told him it was a bit of both. Regardless, she was a woman going places, and if this movie guy didn’t make a play for her, sooner or later some local cowboy would. The General had made it clear that all five of the men in his task force needed to bring this mission to fruition; all five of them needed to marry—or lose the ranch.
Still, it wasn’t the thought of losing the ranch that motivated him. With four of his daughters married, he doubted the General would follow through on his threat. On the other hand, the General wasn’t exactly known for being a reasonable man. If he got angry, he might lash out, and Logan didn’t want to take any chances.
What really propelled him to move forward, however, was a sense of foreboding. The sense that their enemies were gathering strength, getting ready to hit the ranch again. He’d had the St. Michael dream three nights in a row, waking up in a cold sweat beside Lena each time. It still felt like a miracle to lie down to sleep with her each night; what made his dreams so off the wall when his reality was so great?
He could only blame the Ellises for their resurgence. He didn’t like the way Lena had “accidents” when they were around. He hadn’t liked the look of old Beau Ellis one bit, either, but when he’d poked around in town, no one could tell him much about any of them, and he didn’t have time for a more thorough investigation.
With his wedding date set for three weeks hence, Logan had little bandwidth for much else than his usual chores, and finishing up the stable, although he was involved—somewhat—in planning the ceremony and reception. To be honest, it was Cass, Sadie and Alice who were spearheading the initiative to get this wedding off the ground. Lena had definite opinions, and she made them known, but her sisters continually had to remind her of elements she had forgotten to even consider.
Logan tried to stay out of it, except when directly questioned. He wanted Lena to have the day of her dreams, but it soon became clear Lena hadn’t been the type of woman to dream about a wedding. He loved her all the more for that. And he thought the celebration she and her sisters were ironing out sounded like it would be a lot of fun, with a minimum of fuss.
Just the way he liked things.
Now it was time to let his family in on the news. First things first; he’d call Anthony and get the lay of the land.
“It’s me,” Logan said when Anthony picked up the phone, “and before you ask, I’m going to call Mom right after I hang up with you—and tell her about my fiancée.”
“Fiancée? What fiancée? When’s the wedding?”
“Three weeks. We’re going to have to work hard to pull it off, but I think we can do it. Will you officiate?”
“If you’re getting married, I’ll definitely be there. How’s the lucky woman? I’m assuming it’s Lena.”
“Of course, it’s Lena. And she’s still in love with me. God knows why.”
“You’re right; God does know why,” Anthony told him. “Because you’re a good man and deserve it.”
“I thought you might be sore I didn’t join you in the priesthood.”
Anthony hesitated. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Thinking about my own pride. Seems I still have more than my fair share of it. I wanted to make you over in my image, but that’s not my place.”
“No one would blame you; our parents made no bones about who they wanted us to be.”
“I’ve been thinking of that, too. You ever wonder why they named me and James for saints, but not you?”
“Hey, I’m Michael, remember?” He touched the medal at his neck.
“Logan Michael. Far as I know there’s no St. Logan.”
“So? They covered that with my middle name.”
“There’s more to it than that. I don’t know why I never did the math before. Mom was sixteen when she had James. Dad was eighteen. I have a feeling if we really counted, we might find James was conceived before their wedding night.”
Logan thought about that and realized it was probably true. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He’d always thought of his parents as rule-followers. They’d certainly been that way when he was growing up.
“Watch it, or you will be,” Anthony said in mock disapproval. “I think maybe a little guilt came into play when they set their hearts on him being a priest,” he went on.
“What about you?”
“Maybe it became a habit with them. Maybe there was something else they felt guilty about. Who knew what they got up to back in those days? They held off having me for another fifteen years, didn’t they? That’s a good long run. James always said Nana was like a second mother to him. Maybe Mom and Dad kept having fun while they grew up a little, and by the time they were ready to settle down for real, they felt guilty again and decided on the priesthood for me, too. Like I said before, it didn’t matter. I’d have gone down that road regardless.”
“So, what about me?”
Anthony cleared his throat. “Mom was forty-one by the time she got pregnant with you. I don’t know this for sure, but it seems like they might not have expected you, either. I honestly don’t know if they expected any of us.” He chuckled. “That has to be among the top ten things I don’t want to ask my mother. Anyway, you came along. I was already talking about a life of service. Now they had another chance for grandkids.”
Logan tried to make sense of what his brother was saying. “I don’t get it. If they wanted grandkids, why make all that fuss about me becoming a priest, too?”
“You’ll have to ask them about that. Whatever they say, remember—they love you. I’m glad you’re following your heart.”
“I don’t even know if Lena wants to have kids.” He supposed they ought to talk about that.
“Want some more advice?” Anthony asked. “Don’t tell Mom that until after the wedding.”
“Lena isn’t a Catholic.” Logan had been worried on that point. “And we’re marrying here at Two Willows, not in a church.”
Anthony hesitated. “You know what? I’ve heard the love in your voice since the moment you started talking about her, even if I didn’t acknowledge it. I have no objection.”
“But you can’t officiate.”
“Not unless I had more time. We’d have to talk to a bishop—”
“I can’t wait for that.”
“I know.” Anthony chuckled. “Do you have a backup plan?”
“Reverend Halpern married her sisters and their husbands.”
“Get Reverend Halpern, then.”
“Will you be my best man?”
“You’d better believe it.”
Lena made sure the door to the attic was firmly closed and locked before she sat at the window seat, opened her laptop and made a video call to the General.
She knew her sisters’ fiancés had each in turn invited the man to their weddings. Each time he’d refused to come. She wasn’t going to wait for Logan to go to bat for her. She’d face down the man herself.
“What is it?” the General barked when his image showed up on her screen. He was bent over a desk in an office that definitely wasn’t his own. Lena wondered where he was. Overseas, maybe? He was focused on a batch of paperwork he was scrawling on with a pen. He looked older than the last time they’d talked, which was…
Hell, when was it?
The General looked up, his impatience all too clear. “Well…?” His words trailed off when he spotted her. He leaned closer to the screen. “Lena? What is it… what’s wrong?” He half stood.
“We’re all fine,” she said quickly and held up her hand to show him her ring. “Perfectly fine. I’m calling to let you know about my wedding. It’s three weeks from Saturday.” She waited a beat. “That’s your cue to say you’re too busy to come.”
The General sat down and began to speak, but no words came out. Finally he managed, “Three weeks?” His gaze travelled somewhere to the left of the screen, and she had no doubt he was looking at a calendar. As if he actually needed to do that. He wouldn’t come, no matter when it was. When he turned back, there was something in his eyes that gave Lena pause, though. It wasn’t hardness—or anger. It was—
Grief.
And it hit her like punch to her sternum.
Her father was grieving. She’d guessed that, but seeing it made it real.
“I want to,” he said so frankly Lena believed him. “More than anything, but this situation is escalating—” He waved a hand to encompass his foreign office.
If you want to, then try, she urged him silently. Break free of the guilt that’s holding you back. Start fixing this.
But she’d never spoken to her father that way, and she couldn’t seem to find the right words to start now. “You could come if you really wanted to.” She’d done so much over the years she hadn’t thought herself capable of. Couldn’t he stretch—just this once?
“I… can’t.”
Anger flared within her. Yes, he could. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t try—even for her. He’d never valued her—
“God, I’m so proud of you,” he said.
Lena clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of pain. Used the other to slap at the keyboard until she’d killed the call.
No.
No—
He didn’t get to have it both ways—
Not this time.
He either loved her enough to break free of the past, or he didn’t.
Lena shoved the laptop off her lap, not caring when it fell and hit the ground. She tucked her knees under her, wrapped an arm around her middle and stuffed her other fist in her mouth. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. She was done with tears.
She swept two of the cushions off the seat onto the floor, then pounded a third with her fist. Damn him—how could he still make her feel this way?
She stood up and paced the attic. She’d told herself she wouldn’t slide back into past habits again, and here she was letting the General ruin her wedding. He didn’t get to do that. Didn’t get to let his cowardice spill all over her happiness.
This isn’t about you, she told herself. This is about him. His bad choices. His guilt.
His sadness.
And this was life. Ugly. Messy. Painful.
And so beautiful and clean and lovely at the same time. It had been so the day she’d said yes to Logan, and it would be again in three weeks when she pledged her heart to the man she loved.
And if the General couldn’t be there—
That was his loss.
It took Logan some time to make his next call, but when he finally did, his mother answered on the third ring. “Logan! Good to hear from you.”
“Just wanted to talk if you have a minute.”
“Of course.” She sounded happy, and Logan hoped he wasn’t about to ruin her mood.
“I’m not going to become a priest.” Best to get it over with. Short and sweet.
His mother’s silence spun out until she sighed. “I guess I figured that out when you became a Marine.”
“You never stopped bringing it up.”
“No. I guess I didn’t.”
“Why? You’ve got two priests in the family already. Why couldn’t you let me be?” He wondered if she’d finally come clean. He couldn’t remember why this had seemed so hard to discuss before. Probably because he’d been younger. Less sure of himself. Needing her approval. They’d all let this spin on way too long.
“I guess because I didn’t let your brothers be. I’d gone too far to stop.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“I made them both priests; how could I let you be what you wanted to be?” His mother sighed, and there was a world of remorse in the sound. “We were so young when we had James. So guilty for what we’d done—I’m sure you and your brothers figured out our sin a long time ago.”
Logan didn’t correct her. It had never occurred to him his parents had ever slipped up until his conversation with Anthony.
“We managed to marry fast and fool most people. James came late, and he was small.”
“So you dedicated him to God.”
“We definitely steered him that way. He ran with it, though. I guess that made us feel better. I don’t think he regrets the life he chose.”
“I don’t think so, either. And Anthony’s told me a dozen times he would have tended toward the priesthood no matter what you did.” He was glad they were able to talk about it rationally instead of having a fight. He didn’t want his mother to be defensive. He simply wanted to understand. “So you didn’t force them. And if they both chose their vocations willingly, why worry about me?”
His mother was silent a long time.
“I’ve never told anyone this part. It’s too painful. I’m not sure you’ll understand.”
“Try me,” Logan told her.
“We tried for so long to have another baby after Anthony was born. We were ready to be parents by then, and we didn’t want him to feel lonely. First months passed, then years, one after another until it was clear we were done. Those were hard times. Your father and I fought a lot. We blamed each other. Then, I suppose, we blamed God. We felt… judged. As if He was showing us He’d wanted us to be parents much younger—when we had James—and since we didn’t agree, now He was punishing us. It was harder for me than for your father. You know my mother raised James more than I did. I felt like I hadn’t measured up and was being deprived of children when I was ready for them as a consequence. I was so confused.”
“But you did have me.”
“Ten years later! Long after we’d given up. What were we to make of that?” his mother asked.
“I guess I don’t know.”
“We were thrilled. We made such plans for you. We would raise you, send you to college, marry you off, and the grandkids would pour in! And then…” She broke off.
“Then you felt bad about not steering James and Anthony that way,” he finished for her.
“That’s right. It sounds pretty darn silly when you put it like that.”
Not exactly. Logan was beginning to understand it was human nature to box up difficult feelings. People treated problems like equations. If I do this, then that must be the result. But life didn’t fit into tidy boxes. Neither did feelings.
“I guess we’re all a little messed up,” he said.
She sighed again. “The Marines have made you a man I’m proud of. I want you to know that.”
Logan supposed no one was ever too old to appreciate praise from his mother. “Thanks, Mom.”
“And you’re not going to be a priest.” She chuckled. “Anthony says you’re in Montana. What’s going on there?”
“I’m getting married. In three weeks. And I hope you’ll come.”
“Married?” she said faintly. “You’re getting married? Earl, come quickly,” she called. “Logan’s getting married!”
The next few minutes were a jumble of congratulations, questions and exclamations as he told his story twice over, once to his mother and then to his dad. Both of them could barely contain their excitement.
“What about grandkids?” his mother asked.
“We’ll see. When we’re settled into our new lives.”
“But you’ll live in Montana? Earl, we need to move to Montana!”
“You’re only one state over, Mom. It won’t be that far to visit.”
“Says the man who never visits his mother,” she pointed out.
“I swear that’s about to change.”
“I’m surprised you’re not going to be the one wearing the uniform,” Jo said to Lena and ducked as if she expected Lena to take a swipe at her. All five of the Reed sisters were in Alice’s sewing studio on the second story of the carriage house. It had been restored to normal after the damage it had received when they’d been attacked some weeks ago, and it reminded Lena of childhood days when they’d used this space as a rainy-day playroom. Costumes were strewn over the central tables—Alice’s creations for the movie job.
“Jo,” Cass said reprovingly. “That’s not nice.”
Jo kept angled away from Lena until Lena shook her head at her. “Relax,” she said. She was done with violence. “I thought about wearing a uniform,” she joked. “Decided not to break tradition.”
She stood as still as possible on a little pedestal while Alice crouched beside her, pinning the hem of their mother’s wedding dress. Cass, Sadie and Jo had all worn it for their weddings. Now Alice was tailoring it to fit her—and the theme of her wedding.
She and Logan had decided to go with a Revolutionary War theme. Alice had dug out a fine blue uniform for Logan to wear, and more for the rest of the men. Her sisters would wear their spring green bridesmaid gowns, altered to have a more 1775 flair. It was far too cold for an outdoor wedding at Two Willows, so they’d decided to take most of the furniture out of the first floor of the house, set up tight rows of folding chairs for the ceremony, and move them to accommodate folding tables for the dinner. It would be crowded, but they’d make it work. Lena couldn’t wait to see the look on Logan’s face when he saw her walk down the aisle. He’d loved her in that stupid bridesmaid gown she’d worn at Jo’s wedding the night they’d met. He’d probably have a heart attack when he saw her in off-white lace.
“Stand still,” Alice murmured.
“Sorry.” It was hard to stand still and harder to bear the itchy fabric. How did other women deal with this stuff?
“I’ve got a list,” Cass announced. “One for everyone, actually. We’ve all got jobs to do to get ready for the big day.” She began to hand them out, giving Lena hers last. “I didn’t give you too many errands,” Cass told her. “I just want you to be ready on Saturday for a full makeover: hair, nails, makeup—the works.”
“Fine.” Let her sister have her way. It was okay to dress up once in a while, she decided. In between times, she and Logan would have loads of fun without resorting to all that frippery. She realized she was smiling and caught Cass’s eye.
“I’m so happy for you,” Cass said.
“Thanks.” She looked over her list again, not wanting to make too much of the moment. “Candles?” she asked.
“Tons of them,” Cass told her. “And fairy lights. You’re in charge of the mood lighting for the wedding.”
Mood lighting. She supposed she could handle that.
Four hours later, she’d finished the fitting, changed, headed into town and handled all her purchases with panache, filling the back of her truck with boxes of votives, tapers and fairy lights. She’d help string the lights closer to the wedding. Cass could handle the candles.
But now she was hungry.
Really hungry.
Lena realized she’d skipped lunch. Linda’s Diner would do the trick nicely, she decided, and after she closed the tailgate, she decided to walk the two blocks to the restaurant.
A cold wind reminded her it was nearly Thanksgiving. The early snowfall had disappeared, but it looked like more was on the way. Soon enough the year would end and a new one would begin. So many things had changed at Two Willows since last spring.
She was happy to reach the diner, her bittersweet thoughts dispelled by the hustle and bustle of the place.
“Hi, Lena,” Christie called. “Cass has a booth in the back if you’re here to join her.”
“Sure.” She edged around the waitress and made her way back to find Cass and Brian tucked into a booth at the far end of the restaurant. “Is there room for me?”
“Of course, help yourself,” Cass told her.
Lena did so, ordering a hamburger and fries when Christie reached the table. A few minutes later, Cass’s and Brian’s meals arrived, and she told them to go ahead, grabbing a fry or two from her sister’s plate.
“Got my whole list done,” Lena told them.
“It was a pretty small list,” Cass pointed out. “I’m only about halfway through with mine.”
“I’d say I’m two-thirds done,” Jo said, approaching with a large number of shopping bags draped over her arm. They stowed them under the table, and Jo slid in next to Lena. She, too, grabbed some of Cass’s fries. “I think you gave me all the hard things.”
“Did not,” Cass said affably. “I always save the hard things for myself.”
“Then you’ve never tried to pick out flower arrangements less than two weeks ahead of a wedding.” Alice arrived looking more flustered than usual. “She wanted to use peach roses. Can you believe that? We’ve had three weddings with the same color scheme, and she’d going to zigzag now? I’ll have a Cobb salad,” she told Christie, who’d come to deliver Lena’s burger.
Lena took it from her gratefully, her stomach rumbling. She took a bite of the burger and swatted away Jo’s hand when she tried to steal some fries. Jo waited until she’d grasped the burger with both hands for a second bite and snatched a few off the plate.
“Oh, those look good,” Alice said and took a few, too.
“I’m going to need more ketchup.” Lena looked around for a bottle on one of the adjacent tables, then decided she’d ask Christie when the waitress got back.
“Did someone say ketchup?” Sadie asked as she drew near with a pile of boxes in her hand that blocked her face from view. “If there’s ketchup, there’s French fries, and I’m in dire need of French fries.”
She awkwardly shoved her way into the booth, the tower of boxes tilting precipitously. “Let me at ’em,” she said, peeking around the pile.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at a restaurant with all of you before,” Brian said. “We need a bigger booth.”
Lena froze, the burger halfway to her mouth. Her sisters froze, too. She could see Cass’s mouth move—counting—one, two, three, four, five—
“The General!” Jo cried.
Lena saw the moment Brian understood. He dropped his burger on his plate. “Oh, hell. You’re all off the ranch—”
She didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. She scrambled up on the bench seat, vaulted over the back and across the next booth, and ran for the door, throwing twenties at Christie as she passed.
“Where’s the fire?” Christie called after her.
“No fire,” she called back over her shoulder.
No fire—
But with them all off the ranch—
Who knew what would happen next.
“I can’t get ahold of him,” Logan told Lena a half hour later. She’d scared the crap out of him when she’d careened into the driveway, screeched the truck to a stop by the carriage house and run inside like a tiger was chasing her. It had taken five minutes for him to make sense of what she was trying to say and why she thought the General might be in trouble. By then everyone else had arrived home, too.
“One of us has to be on the ranch—always,” she’d nearly shouted at him. “To keep the General safe. I spoke to him the other day. I don’t understand why you can’t reach him.”
She’d mentioned the superstition before, and he’d noticed the way the women kept tabs on each other almost unconsciously to make sure someone was always at the ranch.
“According to USSOCOM, he’s out of range of communications.”
“What is he doing in the Middle East?” Cass demanded. “He’s not supposed to be in an active war zone these days.”
“Normally he’s not, but men like him are called in for on-the-ground inspections from time to time. Your father isn’t one to shirk his duty.”
“So we don’t know if he’s okay or not.” Alice was pacing the living room in a very un-Alice way. She shut her eyes and concentrated but opened them a moment later. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Let’s all take a breath,” Brian said.
“How did you all manage to leave the ranch at the same time?” Logan asked. It had never happened since he’d been here.
“We were all too focused on getting this wedding off the ground—” Cass didn’t finish her sentence, and he knew she didn’t want to blame anyone.
“What’s done is done,” Connor soothed. “You’re all back here now. Nothing’s happened.”
“You don’t know that!”
All of them stared at this uncharacteristic outburst from Alice. She gave a groan and paced again. “I hate this; why can’t I see anything? It’s been getting worse and worse lately.”
Logan remembered what Lena had told him before—Alice found it difficult to see her own future. Was that future getting too close?
Jack would be here soon.
“If something happened to the General, we would know about it,” Brian said reassuringly. “He might not be reachable, but you can bet he’s able to get word out if necessary.”
Logan didn’t think the sisters were entirely appeased, but there wasn’t much they could do but wait.
“When will he be back in touch?” Hunter asked him.
“Not for another week at least.”
When Lena slipped outside late that night, crossed Sadie’s garden and entered the maze, she wasn’t surprised to find her sisters there before her. When she joined them in front of the stone, she pulled her thick jacket more tightly around her and shivered in the cold. The temperature had dropped steadily all day, and the pinpricks of the stars glittered above her. The stone loomed solid and unknowable, a dark shadow against the sky.
Cass reached a hand out to touch it, but Sadie snatched it back. “I don’t think we should ask.”
“I do,” Jo said. “We need to know.”
“We can’t stop what happens whether we know or not,” Alice put in. “Believe me, I’ve tried plenty of times.”
Lena hated the bitterness in her voice. She knew Alice suffered when her premonitions revealed something bad. “I don’t think we should ask, either,” she said quickly. “But I think—I think we need to make another promise to make up for the one we broke.”
“Like Mom did when Dad left the first time?” Cass asked.
“Exactly like Mom did. She promised she’d always stay on the ranch when the General was gone, and she did. In exchange, the stone kept him safe.”
Sadie made a noise, but Lena kept going. “We’re the ones who blew it; that means we need to make a new promise. A different one.”
“What kind of promise?” Jo asked.
“That we’ll stay for good. That we’ll all live our lives here in Chance Creek, at Two Willows. We’ll make our stand here. We’ll protect this land.”
“But—” Alice began.
“I don’t mean we never get to go anywhere. Trips, vacations, temporary things—those are fine. I mean we pledge that Two Willows will always be our home base. That’s what the land wants, right?” Now that she was marrying Logan, it was an easy promise to make.
Her sisters nodded. Alice last. “Yeah, that’s what it wants,” she echoed.
“Then let’s do it,” Lena urged. “Now, before something happens.”
Cass put her hand on the stone. Jo did, too. Sadie reached out more slowly, but when she laid her palm on the stone, she nodded. “It’s the right thing to do,” she said.
Lena put her hand on it, too, nearly flinching from the cold. “Alice?” Her breath came out in a white puff, and she shivered again. She couldn’t wait to get back inside.
Alice hesitated. “It’s just—my costume job—it could take me away for a while…”
“But not forever,” Cass told her. “Come on, it’s freezing!”
Still Alice held back. “But what if it turns into something—” She shrieked when something swift and white shot past her, dove to touch the ground and flew off again, a tiny mouse in its claws.
Lena’s heart beat hard; she’d never seen an owl take its prey so close before. How could it see such a small creature in the dark like that?
Alice slapped her hand on the stone. “Do it!” she said to Lena. “Make the pledge.”
“Alice?”
Alice cut off Cass’s question. “Say it,” she hissed at Lena.
Lena replaced her hand on the stone. “In exchange for my father’s safety, and for the safety of us all, I pledge that I will spend my life at Two Willows, guarding it and caring for it as best as I can.”
Cass swiftly repeated her words, then Sadie, then Jo. When Alice’s turn came, her voice was shaking, and she ran through the words as quickly as she could.
“I pledge that I will spend my life at Two Willows, guarding it and caring for it as best as I can.” It came out as one long, slurred phrase. “Done,” she said and slapped the stone. “It’s done. I know you heard us.”
“Alice, what’s wrong? Did you see something?” Cass pulled her hand back.
“Of course.” Alice pointed to where the owl had grasped the mouse. “Didn’t you?”
Lena shivered as a chill that shook her frame. “What do you think it meant?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Alice was close to tears.
Lena thought about the way the owl had taken the mouse. Swiftly. Silently. One moment there, the next gone.
She shivered again, thinking about her father.
And hoped against hope he was all right.
Logan couldn’t ignore the sense of something looming on the horizon—something coming at them—after the day Lena and her sisters had all left the ranch at once. He couldn’t say why their silly superstition bugged him, except that with five skittish, spooked women around the place it was easy to catch their anxiety.
He worried less about the General than about the possibility trouble would crop up right here at Two Willows, though. Three times men sent by someone in Tennessee had come after the Reeds. Three times they’d fought them off. Something told him they hadn’t seen the end of those troublemakers.
He found himself up earlier than usual, riding out at sunrise to get the lay of the land when the weather allowed, ranging far and wide on foot when the weather didn’t. He looked for signs that someone was testing the perimeters of the ranch. Probing for weaknesses. So far, he hadn’t seen any, but that didn’t mean he was wrong to be vigilant. When he’d first come to Chance Creek, he’d locked his firearm away in his room. Now he wore it from morning to bedtime most days.
He soon found he wasn’t the only one who was thinking along those lines.
“It’s about time for more trouble, isn’t it?” Connor had put it succinctly.
“It’s been quiet for far too long,” Hunter put in. “I figure it’s due to arrive any day now.”
It comforted Logan to know that he wasn’t the only one with such thoughts on his mind, but at the same time it disconcerted him to know that all the men on the ranch were uneasy. The one person he didn’t mention his concerns to was Lena. She was far too worried about her father. Her relationships with her sisters had grown closer amid their shared fears. He didn’t want to disturb that. He knew Lena would scoff at him and want to take her part in the preparations the men were making to keep a better watch on the ranch, but she was going to be married in two weeks’ time and had plenty on her plate to accomplish. Surely that gave him the right to intercede for her just this once.
In any event, they hardly had to make plans. It turned out that each of the men had been patrolling on his own. Aside from a conversation or two in which they divvied up the times of day and the directions in which they went, there really weren’t any preparations for Lena to take part in.
Which was all his way of justifying himself the day Lena caught him heading out on an early morning ride.
“You’re patrolling. Without me,” she accused without preamble.
He was caught, and he knew it. She knew it, too.
“It’s not just you; it’s Brian, Connor and Hunter, too. What’s going on?”
He finished buckling the strap of the saddle and straightened. “There’s nothing going on—yet. That’s why we didn’t bring you into this; there’s no reason for what we’re doing. We’re just doing it anyway, because trouble seems to come around here pretty regularly.”
Lena scowled. “You’re all in on it—together? And none of you told me?”
“It’s like I said; there’s nothing to tell. But have you noticed whenever one of you decides to get married, shit hits the fan?” He meant it as a joke, but Lena’s frown deepened.
“So, it’s our fault people keep attacking the ranch? And that gives you the right to take over, without even telling me?”
“That’s not what I meant. We both have chores to do. You’ve got the wedding to plan on top of that. I figured you had enough to do.” He reached for her, but she sidestepped him.
“Not one week ago you said you considered me an equal.”
“I do. That doesn’t mean we have to be joined at the hip. I’ve got my work, you’ve got yours.”
“But I’m not trying to hide mine!”
Logan blew out a breath. She was right, but that didn’t stop his frustration from mounting. Just once couldn’t he be the man? He wanted her safe—not out on patrol. He scraped a hand over his jaw. “Look, Alice must be rubbing off on me. I got this sense trouble was coming. Nothing tangible; just a feeling. I started watching out, taking morning rides, looking for signs of trouble—but I haven’t seen a thing. I found out Brian and the other guys were doing it, too. All we did was make sure we weren’t covering the same ground at the same time. This is the kind of thing we do; it’s our job. Do you really have a problem with that?”
“What I have a problem with is men stepping in and making decisions for me without asking.”
Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t win this argument, can I?” he snapped. “You’re about to marry me. You have two weeks until your wedding day. Any other woman would be thinking about dresses and flowers and table settings and—” Logan knew he was digging his own grave but couldn’t seem to stop.
“I’m not any other woman. I don’t care what I wear or whether there are flowers at our wedding. It’s just a stupid tradition—”
“Hey, maybe I care about our wedding. Maybe I want it to be something special.” Logan lost his temper. He’d reined in his own instinct to lead for weeks. They all had. Didn’t she see that? “And it’s not just your responsibility to care for this ranch. It’s our responsibility. This land doesn’t just belong to you anymore!”
Lena’s eyes widened before she regained control. “I knew it!” she hissed. “I knew it—you’re just like every man I’ve ever met. All you want to do is take. Take my freedom. Take my home. Steal my land.” She clawed the ring he’d bought her just days ago off her finger and chucked it at him. It bounced off his cheek, and he caught it automatically, his heart sinking.
“None of that’s true, and you know it.” It was her fear talking. And his worry. They should be confronting those fears, not hurling accusations at each other, but he didn’t know how to stop the conversation now that it was started.
“All I know is that I was a fool to trust you. A fool to trust any man. And I’m done. There won’t be any dresses or place settings or guests. There won’t be a wedding. I’m not marrying you. And I want you off my land.”
It was cold in the barn’s loft. Bitterly cold. But there was no way Lena was going back to the house, even if dusk had fallen more than an hour ago, and now it was fully dark. She’d spent a long day doing chores alone, snarling at anyone who dared to come too close. It was too dark to work any longer. She envied Jo, with her snug little private dwelling that Hunter had helped her build next to the main house. She needed a hideaway, too, but she’d be damned if she’d hole up in the attic Logan had fitted out for her.
For one week—one week—she’d allowed herself to get distracted by concerns that were typically feminine. All the questions that needed to be answered for her upcoming nuptials. She’d allowed herself to enjoy it. Had reined in her vigilance, just a little bit, for a few days.
And this is what happened. The General was in danger, and the men had moved seamlessly to take over. Certain they knew better than she did what was good for her. They could have asked. Could have said, “Hey, Lena, would you like us to take this on?” She could have said yes or no. Instead they decided for her.
Men always tried to decide for her.
Was this the kind of life she was going to face? Would she always have to fight for her position here? As much as she hated to admit it, the General did control Two Willows’s deed now that Amelia was gone. He could pass it on to whomever he chose. Sell it off if he felt like it. He could sign the deed over to the men and leave her and her sisters out of it. Community property laws would kick in under a dispute, but that didn’t help in the day-to-day operations. If she fought with Brian, Connor and Hunter, it would cause a rift in the family anyway.
Lena wished she could turn back time a day and go back to the tight-knit conversations about her wedding she’d been having with her sisters. Even with their worry about the General, she’d enjoyed the closeness she’d felt with them. It had been like being girls again. It had been too long since they’d had the luxury of having fun together that way.
Now it was over. The wedding was off.
She wrapped the horse blanket around herself more tightly and wished she’d stopped to put on more layers before dashing from the house. She’d need to go back and face the rest of them soon anyway, and tell the men to stop interfering.
She’d have to start patrolling herself.
And she didn’t feel like patrolling.
She felt—
She felt like a fool.
Lena sighed and buried her face in her hands. The truth was, she’d gone off half-cocked at Logan’s interference when he was right; all he was doing was trying to help. Years of frustration in her dealings with the General had taught her to mistrust everyone. Now Logan was paying the price.
This past week had shown her she didn’t feel like being in charge of everything anymore. Truth be told, she couldn’t be everywhere at once. If trouble was coming—and Logan was right, it probably was—they’d need to work together to hold it off.
It made sense to have men regularly patrolling the ranch. She should have thought of it herself.
Would have, if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in worry about the General’s safety.
Lena sighed again. It was late, and cold, and if she didn’t retreat to the house soon and apologize to Logan, she’d probably freeze to death. Then there’d never be a wedding. And she wanted a wedding. She loved Logan. And she knew he loved her.
Looking around, she had to admit that her old hideaway paled in comparison to the beautiful attic room Logan had built for her. She would’ve liked to move the old chest, the swords and the musket into the house and display them there. Reminders of her family’s past amid the present she’d been building with Logan.
Regret cut deep inside her. Far deeper than she’d like to admit. She truly loved Logan. Would he still want to marry her if she admitted her mistake? Or had she proved to him she wasn’t worth the effort?
God, everything was a mess.
A sound brought her to full alert, and Lena suddenly realized she’d left her shoulder holster and pistol in the house in her room when she’d confronted Logan early this morning, then hadn’t stopped to put them on during her headlong flight to the barn. She was unarmed. What if it was another attack?
Another noise, closer this time, brought her to her feet. She glanced around, looking for some way to protect herself, and her gaze landed on the ancient weapons hanging on the wall above her. The little fabric sack hanging next to the musket held the preparations for priming and firing the weapon, Lena knew. But no one had done that for years; not since before her mother’s death. Black powder rifles were the General’s pet hobby, and he used to take his collection out on the Fourth of July so the two of them could take turns cleaning and priming the muskets. Lena always made it a race, and she could load a charge and a musket ball in a twist of paper, ram it down the barrel, aim and shoot almost as fast as he could. But muskets were notoriously unreliable. It was no help to her now. She grabbed one of the swords instead.
Her heart pounding in her chest, she listened again. If it had been one of her sisters, or one of the men, they would’ve turned on the light by the door. She had chosen to sit up here in the darkness because of her mood, and she didn’t want to risk being spotted while she figured out who it was.
All was silent in the barn.
Maybe she was imagining things.
When a dim beam of light shone suddenly in her eyes, Lena called out in surprise and raised the sword high.
“What are you going to do with that stupid toy? Bounce it off my head?” Logan demanded. He climbed the rest of the way into the loft.
Lena lowered the sword in relief. “What the hell are you doing? Why didn’t you just turn on the light?”
“I tried. Several times. The bulb must have burned out. And this flashlight is nearly dead, too. We’d better find some new batteries for it.”
Lena thought about replacing the bulb high on the barn ceiling and stifled a groan. It was such a pain in the ass to reach. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.” This sword was no toy, no matter what he said.
“You couldn’t have touched me,” he scoffed. He was angry still, she realized. Pushed past what he could take by their earlier argument. She needed to tell him she’d realized her mistake, but she couldn’t let that arrogant statement go by unchallenged.
“Oh, really?”
Logan walked over to the wall display and set down his flashlight, its dull beam immediately half-swallowed up by the layer of hay on the floor. He took down the other sword. Held it up. Tested its weight with a swoosh or two through the air. He was angry, that was clear, and he was looking at the sword like it disgusted him, too. She understood why. Both swords needed polishing. She’d neglected the old weapons shamefully.
“You think you’re a match for me?” Logan asked. “Prove it.”
“You want to have a sword fight?” In this low light, Logan looked dangerous. All Marine. No softness about him. She realized how much he’d been holding back around her all this time. Reining in his own strength.
“Chicken?” he goaded her.
“Hell, no.” This was a bad idea, though. The swords might be ill-cared for, but they were still sharp.
“Then let’s make this more interesting.” Logan took a couple of practice swings.
Where had she heard that before?
At the Dancing Boot. Their bet over the pool table weeks ago had led to everything else that had happened. That had been the first time they’d danced.
Lena shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“So, you’re chicken, after all.”
Oh, what the hell. “Lay it on me, then. What’s this big wager we’re going to make?” She was beginning to remember why she’d run out here in the first place. Logan always thought he had the upper hand.
Logan swung the sword a few more times. “If I win, you marry me. If I lose, I’ll leave the ranch.”
He must be feeling as reckless as she was right now, if he was willing to wager their future on a fight. Anger flared in her. Men treated everything like a game. Logan’s eyes glittered in the moonlight that flowed through the window, brighter than the burning out flashlight.
“Deal,” she snapped. To hell with trying to reason with him. He wanted to fight. They’d fight.
“Ready?”
“Whenever you are.” This was insane. The General had never allowed her or her sisters to play with the swords. Weapons are to be respected at all times, he’d always said. Apparently, Logan hadn’t gotten the same message from his parents. Or the military.
Or maybe he just didn’t care. Maybe he wanted to win so badly he’d throw caution to the wind.
A moment later, she didn’t have time to think about any of that. Logan crashed his sword against hers with a blow so powerful he nearly knocked it out of her hand. Probably his plan—to end this battle before it even began. Lena wasn’t having it. Maybe she’d never trained with the sword, but that didn’t mean she be an easy adversary.
The clash of their weapons reverberated in the small space, and soon Lena was fighting with everything she had. Logan didn’t hold back. He was treating her the way he treated any adversary. Gunning for the win.
Her estimation of him rose in the next few moments, as she realized he wasn’t going to give her any quarter. She wouldn’t give him any, either. She fought back, parrying each of his thrusts with a blow of her own. Soon she began to wonder how long she could keep this up. The light in the loft was getting dimmer by the minute. The sword was heavy, but its weight didn’t seem to bother Logan at all. As a rancher, she worked hard and did a lot of heavy lifting in the course of her days, but she hadn’t spent years as a Marine—not like him.
Her glance flicked to his bicep, so big the span of both her hands couldn’t encompass it. What had she been thinking taking this bet? She was going to lose—and that meant marrying him.
Which she meant to do anyway, but he didn’t know that.
Logan crashed his sword against hers again, with a blow that reverberated up her arm and made her wince. Lena was slow to parry back his next blow, and Logan moved in for the victory. Beneath them she heard Atlas moving in his makeshift stall, the clash of the swords making him nervous. This had to stop soon, or he’d spook. But Lena knew she wouldn’t be the one to end this fight. She couldn’t accept defeat—even at the hand of her intended.
Logan crashed his sword against hers again, and again, and again, a series of battering blows that left her weaker each moment. She gripped the handle of her sword with both hands, not wanting to lose this contest, but she didn’t parry Logan’s next blow quite in time, and her wrist bent back with the force of it. She nearly dropped her weapon but held on, swung—and missed. Logan swooped his sword around, caught hers on the back swing, where her grip wasn’t nearly as strong, and knocked it out of her hands. It went clattering right over the edge of the hayloft, fell and landed with a thud on the wooden floor far below.
Atlas whinnied nervously, but Lena was only half aware of him. Her chest heaved with her deep breaths, and her gaze was locked on Logan, who’d raised his sword in a victory salute like a fierce warrior of old. He turned the sword down, jabbed it into the floorboards and approached her as the flashlight died, leaving them in darkness. Lena didn’t move. Not even when he took her into his arms, pulled her close and claimed a victory kiss.
Frustration warred with desire in her. Frustration at herself. She loved this stupid, reckless man. She loved him as much for the fact that he’d try to win her back with a sword battle as for the fact that he cared so much about her and her ranch he’d head out early each morning in order to patrol it. He was stubborn. All men were stubborn to the point of stupidity. But he was loyal, he worked hard, he loved this land and he loved her. Enough to put on this crazy display. And bet his heart—and his future—on the outcome.
When Logan stiffened, she thought it was because he expected her to be angry at him. But a second later, he covered her mouth with the palm of his hand and whispered in her ear, “Shh.”
Lena stiffened, too, wondering what he’d heard. That was Atlas again, shuffling in his stall, unhappy about the strange noises from their swordplay, no doubt.
“It’s just—” she began.
He cut her off, his words barely a whisper. “Someone’s coming.”
Lena stilled, every nerve on edge, and listened harder but stayed perfectly still, trusting the Marine’s instincts. Logan dropped his hand and crept toward the edge of the hayloft. The barn door opened. A light flared—a battery-operated lantern like the one Lena read by in the loft.
“Help me over here,” a man’s voice called softly beneath them.
Harley. She was sure it was him. Now she heard the footsteps Logan must’ve heard before. There was a rattling. That was the handle of the stall door. Atlas whinnied again, this time a sound of warning.
Harley and Ray had come to steal her horse.
Had he actually come down to the barn without a real weapon? Logan bit back a curse as he realized he had. He’d showered after his workday was done, wanting to look his best when he asked Lena to reconsider her decision, and hadn’t put his holster back on. The two men below them were trying to steal Lena’s stallion. Because Lena had chosen him over one of them?
Or because they’d been sent by the same criminal family from Tennessee that kept coming after the Reeds?
The men who’d attacked the ranch before had been after significant amounts of money, though—money they thought they were owed because the Reeds had destroyed an entire shipment of drugs stored on their land. A breeding stallion was worth a lot of money, but nowhere near enough to pay that back.
But Logan had been thinking over the last few days about the raids on the Reed place as he’d spent hours walking and riding its perimeter. What struck him as odd was that in some ways, with each successive attack, their enemies’ goals had seemed to get smaller. First they’d tried to mastermind a takeover of the entire ranch. Then they’d gone for a sum of money—far less than the worth of this place. Then they’d burned the stables, an act of revenge rather than one that would line their pockets. Now they were after a single horse?
What was going on here? What was the real goal? What had started out as an operation worthy of a criminal organization was fast becoming the work of someone—
Desperate.
Unless this attempted theft had nothing to do with the other attacks at all.
But Logan didn’t have any more time for questions. He could hear Atlas shifting and scrambling in his makeshift stall. The horse was getting riled up, and any country boy worth his salt knew that an angry stallion was a dangerous animal. Did those two yahoos really think Atlas would meekly allow them to lead him out of this barn by the halter?
Speaking of which…
Did those idiots really think they could halter the animal after they’d let it out?
“You got your lighter?” Harley asked.
“Of course. You heard what Uncle Beau said; this time the job’s gotta be done right. No one gets out alive.”
Logan’s heart plunged, and behind him he heard Lena’s indrawn breath. As Atlas whinnied again, scrambling and shifting in his stall, Logan thought fast. The Tennessee goons had tried arson once before and failed. Were they about to try it again?
No one gets out alive.
That meant it wasn’t the barn or the stables they planned to burn this time. If it was, Harley would’ve said nothing is going to get out alive. No one meant people. And people meant Cass and her unborn baby. Alice, Jo and Sadie—and Brian, Connor and Hunter.
Logan realized in a flash they couldn’t let these men free Atlas, because as soon as they did, they’d go set fire to the houses. And who knew what they had done in preparation for setting them alight? Set up explosives? Soaked the wooden cladding in gasoline? Or—Logan remembered seeing the twins in the hardware store—kerosene?
He turned to tell Lena to stay right here, only to find her directly behind him. She stood still as a stone, listening to every word the men below them said.
“I’m starting to think we should let this animal burn, too,” Harley said a moment later.
“Uh, uh. Uncle Beau has got big plans for this horse,” Ray said. “It’s going to be the start of our empire. We’ll breed him until he gives up the ghost and then sell him for dog food.” Atlas shuffled in his stall again, letting out a sharp whinny. “Shit, you’re right; this animal’s a menace. Buddy,” he said to Atlas. “You’d better calm down right now, or I’m going to shoot you in the head.”
Logan should’ve seen it coming. He knew Ray’s words would infuriate Lena. It still surprised him when she launched herself out of the hayloft with a rebel yell loud enough to wake everyone within a five-mile radius. Logan rushed to the edge, sure he’d see her twisted body on the ground below, but Lena had landed on Harley and Ray, and was locked in a wrestling match with both.
Logan swore, grabbed the nearby sword and swore again at its uselessness. There was nothing for it, though. He rushed to the edge of the hayloft, slid down the ladder, landed hard, regained his balance—and charged.
Harley yelped when Logan struck him with the flat of his sword, and Lena brushed past him, headed for Atlas’s stall. When she threw the door open and the horse charged out, Logan thought for one grateful moment it might do the trick. The stallion reared up, and both Harley and Ray scattered from under its hooves, but then Atlas, the ungrateful beast, raced straight for the door and out of sight. That left two men with pistols, Lena unarmed and him with his stupid replica Revolutionary War sword. He was afraid Lena would try tackling the men again and get herself shot, but in the first girlish move he’d ever seen her make, she raced for the ladder instead, clambered up it and into the loft.
Harley lurched after her. “Lena, stop it! I’m not going to hurt your horse, I’m trying to save it. Just like I wanted to save you!”
Logan went after him, but when Ray took a shot at him, he dove for the floor, rolled behind a cord of stacked wood and thought fast. How the hell could he fight these guys? All he could hope was that someone up at the house had heard that gunshot and would come to investigate—armed. He hoped to God Lena stayed hidden up in the loft. She might buy herself enough time until the cavalry came.
“Forget about her. Split up,” he heard Ray say. He peeked around to see what was happening and was rewarded with a shot that ricocheted off the top of the stack, the wall of the barn and buried itself in a wooden post. Logan ducked down again. Sooner or later one of them would be able to get an unobstructed shot at him. He needed more cover, and that meant he had to move. He waited until he thought both men were in motion before he lunged into the far corner of the barn where stacked supplies and tools made a barrier of sorts. Another shot rang out, ricocheted off a metal shovel and penetrated the wooden floorboards. The twins had definitely split up and were circling around trying to get an angle on him. Logan realized if he was careful he might be able to give Ray a nasty surprise. Moving ever so slowly, judging each step before he took it, he edged around the back of the stacked supplies, trying hard not to betray his position. The other men didn’t seem to realize that he had moved. He saw Ray slipping carefully toward where he’d just been. Come on, he thought. Just another step. That’s right. One more—
Thunk! He brought the hilt of his sword down hard on Ray’s head, and Ray keeled over, unfortunately dropping his pistol more than a yard away from where Logan stood. If he tried to get it, he’d expose himself.
But it was his only hope.
“Ray? Ray, where are you?” Harley hissed.
Logan held his breath. Thank God Ray was out cold on the floor. If only he could reach that pistol before Harley came to look for him, he’d get the situation well in hand.
But Harley was smarter than that. When he edged toward Logan’s position, he held his pistol out in front of him, his finger on the trigger, and Logan knew the other man would get a shot off if he lunged for Ray’s weapon. His sword wouldn’t do him any good.
“I’ve got you,” Harley said. “I can see you back there, Hughes. You think you’re invisible, but you’re not.”
Logan didn’t move a muscle. He wasn’t sure if Harley was bluffing or not, but Harley’s Glock was pointed mighty near his heart. This was all going to be over in a few moments, and the most he could hope to do was lunge out of the way. After that, he didn’t have a plan.
“Come on out of there, fight like a man, you little shit,” Harley said. “If it hadn’t been for you, none of this would have happened. Lena would have fallen for me, and I could have saved her. Put your hands up, drop whatever it is you’re lugging around. Now.”
If Harley couldn’t see the sword, then he didn’t have as good an angle on him as he was making out. Maybe there was still time—
Harley took two steps forward and pointed the gun right in Logan’s face.
Or maybe his time was up.
Hold the gun. Grab the paper twist that holds the black powder. Open it with your teeth, pour it into the barrel of the musket. Keep your shaking hands from letting it spill all over the floor. Drop in the lead ball. Ram it home.
Find the flint. Where was it? Where was the damned flint? The musket wouldn’t fire without it. Lena searched the little fabric bag with shaking fingers, located it, dropped it, fell to her knees and scrambled around to find it again. Finally—after what seemed like hours—her fingers located it, wedged in a crack between two floorboards. She pried it out, found its place, primed the weapon and scrambled to the edge of the hayloft, crouched on her knees.
Ray lay in a heap on the ground, and Harley was crossing the barn, his pistol outstretched, pointing it unflinchingly in one direction. Lena followed the trajectory and swallowed when she took in Logan, sword raised, backed into a corner, covered for now, but not for long.
She had one shot, she realized. One shot with an ancient gun, primed with powder that had been hanging here for more than eleven years. This was insane. If she missed, Logan would die. And she didn’t want him to die.
Faint for the first time in her life, Lena swayed on her knees before getting a hold of herself. She lifted the musket and cocked the hammer. What had the General always said? Take aim, then let God do the rest.
“Come on out of there, fight like a man, you little shit,” Harley suddenly called to Logan. “If it hadn’t been for you, none of this would have happened. Lena would have fallen for me, and I could have saved her. Put your hands up, drop whatever it is you’re lugging around. Now.”
Harley couldn’t see the sword Logan held, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a shot. Lena could almost see Logan considering the odds. There was no way he could win.
She hoped he knew Harley was wrong. She would never have fallen for a man like him. Especially not while there were men like Logan in the world.
Ray moaned where he lay in a heap. He shifted but didn’t get up. Good, he was down for the count.
Harley took two steps forward and pointed the gun right Logan’s face. “You’re lucky my brother is alive. Now I’ll just shoot you instead of tearing you apart limb from limb.”
Time was up. Lena sent up a prayer, took aim, sucked in a breath, pulled the trigger—
Fired.
Her shot ripped through the barn. Harley cried out and lurched forward, staggered a few feet and collapsed, uttering a horrible, gurgling sound that made Lena drop to her knees. Ray let out a wail, pushed up to a sitting position and nearly keeled over again, obviously groggy, but managed to stay upright.
Logan dropped beside Harley, moving quickly to try to stanch the wound, but a moment later, he sat back. Lena waited for what seemed forever, too numb to pray or hope—not knowing what to pray or hope for—but when she saw Logan cross himself, cold pierced her.
“He’s gone,” Logan said.
Gone.
She’d killed Harley?
Lena swayed, put a hand on to steady herself, the musket falling with a metallic thump onto the hay-strewn floor of the loft.
She’d killed Harley—
“You bitch! He did this for you!” Ray fumbled around and lurched to his feet, his pistol in his hand.
He pointed it at Lena, and her breath escaped her.
Logan spun around and swore, dove for his sword and came up swinging.
Ray took his shot. A bullet zinged by Lena’s cheek, burning her flesh. She fell back and clapped a hand to it with a cry. Below her Logan bellowed. When she pulled her hand away, it was covered in blood. Her stomach turned.
She heard a grunt and a smack of metal against flesh.
“Logan?” In a flash, she scrambled back to the edge of the loft. Had Ray somehow managed to shoot him, too?
“Lena!” Logan staggered and turned to look up at her. “Lena? You’re okay?”
“I’m okay.” She looked beyond him to Ray.
“Don’t look. Lena, don’t look!” Logan cried, shifting to block her view.
She leaned forward. Why shouldn’t she—?
She remembered the sword in Logan’s hand.
Swallowed.
“Jesus, baby girl,” Logan said from down below. “Why didn’t you tell me the blades on these things were sharp?”