Scarlet Angel (Page 23)

“I’m real, Lana,” he murmurs against my neck as he finally peels off the last of my clothes.

Just the feel of his body sliding against mine as he undressed me has gotten me ready for him.

“And I’m yours,” he says before he kisses me, swallowing the words I try to return.

Mine.

Just like I’m his.

For as long as he’ll keep me.

“I love you,” I say as he slides inside me, shuddering as though the feel of me was exactly what he needed.

I know the feeling.

The words mean more to me than he knows, because they’re words I thought I’d never utter in that context. Thought I’d never heal enough to feel that connection.

“I love you,” he says, opening his eyes to stare into mine, watching me as he rocks in and out.

It’s everything I need and more.

He’s everything I wish I could be.

A hero.

A hero loved by a monster.

Chapter 15

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

—William Shakespeare

LOGAN

“One place. Anywhere you could go. Where would it be?” Lana asks me.

“Hmmm,” I say, humming against her skin. “Greece.”

“Why Greece?” she asks, a tangled mess of naked limbs.

I wish I could just spend my days lying on a beach in Greece with her wrapped around me just like this. This job is starting to take too much and give back too little.

Then again, after this case, I may not have a career at all. But I won’t just bow down and let them cover up whatever went on here ten years ago.

“Because my stepdad always said if he had a choice, he’d be drunk in Greece and in love. But he wasted all his sexy years on my mother.”

She laughs, and I grin down at her as she wipes a few tears from her eyes from the surprise outburst.

“He sounds like he was great.”

“He was,” I tell her.

“My father was great too. He did everything he could to make sure my brother and I had what we needed. He was our world, and we were his.”

“What about your mother?” I ask, deciding to pounce while she’s speaking of the past.

“Amazing,” she says wistfully. “She baked. I loved it when she baked. My father always said if she was a witch, children would willfully jump into the oven just because of how good it always smelled.” She looks up as I arch an eyebrow. “He was a bit of a morbid sense of humor type of guy. But my mother loved it. Loved him. I never understood how rare that love was when I was younger. Like most things you see daily, I took it for granted.”

A sadness touches her eyes, and I slide in closer, brushing my lips over her eyelids, kissing each.

“Where would you go?” I ask her, deciding I don’t want to see her sad.

“Anywhere in the world?” she asks.

“Anywhere.”

“I’d go to Greece with you.”

And this is why I’m so fucking obsessed with her.

My lips find hers again, and I kiss her like it might be the last time. It’s the way I’ll always kiss her, because she’s lost love once—the love of her parents. I never want any lingering insecurities to dwell in her about us.

I want her to know exactly how I feel every time she’s in my arms.

When she breaks the kiss, I try not to slide on top of her and take her again. I was way too damn eager to be inside her when I saw her in a dress. I was just going to scare her, but Hadley screamed; Lana smiled. She always surprises me.

And just like that, I had to have her.

“I want you in Greece with me too,” I tell her, kissing her cheek.

“We’ll get drunk and have entirely too much sex,” she agrees. “And of course eat. There’s always something amazing to eat in Greece. Unless that’s just a false stereotype.”

Grinning, I press my lips to her cheek. “We’ll find out one day.”

Her breath catches, and I pull back, looking into those haunted eyes that pulled me under her spell so long ago.

“What?” I ask, running my finger down her cheek, worried about that look.

She turns toward me a little more. “If you found out I wasn’t this perfect girl you want me to be, would you still love me?”

The way she asks it is like a punch to the gut. “Lana, I don’t expect you to be perfect. I think you are perfect. At least perfect for me.”

Her lip quivers, and she forces a smile. What’d I say wrong?

“But what if I wasn’t perfect?” she asks again, genuinely distressed over this.

“Then I’d love you anyway. I don’t use that word liberally. Well, at least not since high school. But everyone uses it in high school without knowing what it really means to love someone.”

That look in her eyes chills just a little. I’m trying to read her, but she’s always a mystery. Constantly doing one thing when I expect another.

“But yes,” I say again. “I’d love you regardless. In case you haven’t noticed, I go a little crazy when it’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist. You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer. And never complained.”

She starts to speak, but I go on.

“Those eyes find me when you walk into a room, like I’m the only person you’re looking for. You hold your head up when others would cower. You stand tall when others would fold in on themselves. Your strength is beyond amazing. And you always keep me guessing, which is my favorite part about you, as much as it is infuriating.”

She laughs under her breath, and I kiss the corner of her mouth before continuing.

“And you smile for me like you smile for no one else. That makes a man feel powerful. And when I’m with you, I smile like I never have before. It’s a sense of equality, a partnership even. It’s rare to find someone who matches you step for step, and you do. I love that about you. I love you.”

She kisses me before I can ramble on, assuring her in every possible way there’s nothing that could change the way I feel. Just when I decide I have time to prove it a little more thoroughly, there’s a loud knock at the door.

“Logan! We have a break!” Donny shouts.

“He has horrible timing,” Lana says on a sigh.

“They always do. One day, I’ll just throw away the phone and hide from them.”

“When we disappear to Greece,” she says, her smile not touching her eyes.

I feel like there’s more wrong than she’s telling me. I can see it in the way her gaze grows increasingly distant. I’ll fix that. Just as soon as I figure out what’s causing it.

“Yes,” I tell her, smirking and pretending as though I don’t notice the hint of sadness in her eyes.

I get dressed quickly and meet Donny outside. Then I walk back in just as Lana stands, the sheet strapped around her, and I pull her to me, kissing her long and hard.

She moans against my lips, and Donny loudly clears his throat.

“I’ll be back soon,” I tell her, then walk out, ignoring the laugh Donny lets go as I step out.

“Gotta say, never thought you’d fall so hard,” he quips. “Company men like you usually end up a ride-and-die bachelor type.”

“Things change,” I tell him as I take the driver’s seat. “Where’re we going?”

“Craig called and said a guy came up to him and told him we needed to speak to Diana Barnes. He wouldn’t say anything else, but Johnson is on a rampage. Says we’re inciting terror by posting those flyers, and demanded we tear them all down. Elise and Lisa are putting up more, while the deputies are tearing them down.”

“Unreal,” I say on long breath. “He’s not even trying to be discreet about this.”

“Just makes me wonder what we’re going to find.”

“The cryptic messages the unsub is leaving us to terrorize the town isn’t helping matters. They’re all sure a spirit has risen, but no one will speak a name aloud,” I point out.

“The Evans kids? Or Evans himself? They definitely aren’t speaking about it,” Donny says in his own unique way of agreeing.

“It’s what he wants. He wants to incite terror. He wants them huddled in a corner. The question is why? We know they were raped, but the hospital couldn’t give us anything more than that. The kids were too scared to speak.” I’m mostly just speaking aloud, hoping that hearing the words will offer something more than just knowing them.

“The whole town is too scared to speak,” Donny says, watching as people read the message on the street and walk away, their steps hurrying like they’re going to carry home a piece of devil if they dawdle too long.

Donny gestures to the road we need to turn on, and stops me when we’re in front of a small, white house. It even has a fucking white picket fence.

“Cross your fingers this one doesn’t slam the door on our faces too,” Donny says as he climbs out.

I hop out as well, straightening my tie, and we walk up the cracked sidewalk to the house. The blinds by the front window crack open, and all I get is a glimpse of an eye before they seal shut again.

Donny raises his hand to knock, but the woman opens the door, staring at us like she’s been expecting us all day.