A Real Cowboy Always Protects by Stephanie Rowe

Chapter Twelve

"Coffee?"Chase held out a mug with the Stockton Ranch logo on it.

She eyed the mug suspiciously. "Coffee is on a time out for me right now."

He raised his brows. "Really?"

"It gets me shot at."

Chase looked from her to Logan. "Shot at?"

Logan cleared his throat. "It wasn't the coffee."

"It was." She walked over to the loveseat and sat down in the middle. "If I hadn't gone out for coffee, I would have been asleep at my desk, drooling all over my work, completely oblivious to the gunfight going down in my hallway. Which means that right now, I'd be having yogurt and granola in my own kitchen, having no idea what it looks like when a man is shot in the forehead right in front of me."

There was a long silence in the room, and Skylar felt her cheeks heat up. "Did I say that out loud?"

Chase sat down across from her. "Are you all right?"

"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" She sighed. "I doubt it, but I'm too traumatized to be certain of anything right now."

Chase grinned, an understanding smile meant to comfort. "Well, you're in the right place. If there's anything we understand here, it's trauma."

She recalled Logan's comment that he was born into a life of abuse, and she looked at Chase more carefully. His sleeve was pushed up, and she could see little circular scars on his forearm. Cigarette burns? Did Logan have those? She'd never noticed. God, what had these huge, powerful, kind men endured before they were big enough to keep themselves safe?

"That we do. We have trauma parties every Friday night just to celebrate. It's fun," Logan said as he walked over. She saw his gaze go to the space beside her, which wasn't big enough for him. She had a split second of regret that she'd decided to sit in the middle, meeting his raised brows with a shrug.

He glanced at the armchair, then sat down beside her anyway, squeezing his muscular bulk between her left side and the arm of the loveseat. She scooted to the side, her heart fluttering as his shoulder and hip brushed against hers as he sat. Why did he get under her skin like this? It was distracting. And alarming, given that people in his life got shot at.

Logan turned to her, his dark eyes searching hers. "I'm deeply sorry to have dragged you into this." His voice was raw and rough. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

His regret was so genuine, his anger at himself so bitter, that her walls softened. Instinctively, she touched his wrist, resting her fingers on his skin. "It's okay. Life happens. It's not anyone's fault." She managed a smile. "Who knows? Maybe I had to be there to save your life."

His dark eyes searched hers. "That's not your job."

"It's not a job. It's a gift when life gives us the chance to shine light into someone else's life, simply by being ourselves." The words she spoke were her dad's, surprising her when they tumbled off her lips. They wrapped around her like a hug, making her feel like he was there with her, back in her life, living the future they'd both dreamed of before he'd died too early, too young.

Her throat suddenly tightened at the memory of her dad, and she had to look away.

Logan took her hand, sandwiching it between his palms, his grip warm and solid as he grounded her. "You do that every single time I see you."

She looked back at him, trying to regroup. "What?"

"Shine light. That's what you do. You've always done that for me."

Her heart tightened as she stared at him, startled by the words from her reticent neighbor. "Really?"

He nodded. "But your light needs to shine, not be doused by me, and by the shit I rained down on you." The guilt and self-recrimination were bitter.

Was this the darkness she always sensed wrapped around him so tightly?

Chase cleared his throat.

She started, and saw by Logan's reaction that he'd also forgotten they weren't alone. Logan kept her hand as he turned to face his brother. "I don't want to bring that shit into your house either," he said. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Mira or the boys."

"Your problems belong right smack in the middle of your brothers' lives, so tell me what we're dealing with." Chase was leaning forward, his forearms braced on his thigh, his focus unwavering on the two of them.

Logan mimicked Chase's stance, but kept his grip on Skylar's hand, which meant she was pulled in toward him, her forearm tucked between his elbow and his waist, her hand between his knees. It was intimate and personal, but also casual, like it was simply a natural intimacy that Logan had done instinctively.

This from the man who had never touched her, ever, until that moment in his office.

She liked his touch. She didn't want to pull away, which meant she had to do so. She tried to tug her hand free subtly, but Logan didn't let her go.

Instead, he began playing with her fingers as he spoke to Chase. "When I left here, I joined the CIA."

Chase's eyes widened. "The CIA?"

Logan nodded, stroking his fingertips down the back of her hand. "I couldn't escape who I was, the past I had, that we all have. The nightmares. The violence. The things that would keep me from ever being…normal. I knew I couldn't leave it behind, so I wanted to force it into something useful. Save the world and shit like that."

Skylar could feel the tension in Logan's body as he spoke about his past. His references were vague, but enough to tell her that the boys in that picture had endured terrible things as kids. And Logan, the honorable man he was, had chosen to channel that into making a difference in the world.

Damn him for getting more appealing by the minute.

Understanding and regret flashed across Chase's face. "Did it help?"

"Yeah. It did. Sometimes, at least."

Chase nodded. "Sometimes is all we can ask for. How long were you in for?"

Logan paused, and looked down at his hands briefly before raising his gaze to his brother's. "I'm still in."

Chase went still. "It's been ten years since you left."

"Yeah." Logan kept playing with her fingers, restlessly, as if he couldn't keep himself still.

"You kept this from us for a decade?"

"Yeah."

Chase stood up and walked across the room to the picture window. He clasped his hands on top of his head, in the same pose Logan often used.

Chase said nothing, staring out at his ranch.

Guilt shot through Logan as he watched Chase turn his back on him. He knew the expression that Chase was hiding from him right now. Hurt. Pain. Betrayal. Shit. Logan cleared his throat. "I couldn't tell you. Any of you."

His brother didn't turn around. "Yes, you could have. You can tell us anything."

"It's the rules of the CIA, Chase—"

"Fuck the CIA." Chase spun around, his blue eyes blazing. "We're your goddamned family, Logan. Family is all that matters. Nothing ever comes between us. I'd give my life for you. We all would. Ten years. Ten years you hid this from us? What the hell? You told us you were in construction."

Logan met his brother's gaze. "The CIA is my life now, Chase. Not the ranch. I play by their rules." He kept his voice even and low.

Chase stared at him. "You've never played by anyone's rules. None of us have."

"I need the CIA," he said quietly. "It keeps the monster at bay."

Chase stared at him for a long moment, then his shoulders sagged in defeat. "If I could kill him again, I would. I'd kill him a thousand times for every nightmare he's ever given us, for every chance at happiness he's stolen from us."

Skylar stiffened beside him, and Logan swore. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking, listening to their discussion. He felt exposed and raw, but he knew it was for the best.

The kiss had been too intense. He'd felt her need for him, and his own need for her. He needed to find a way to keep it from going any further with them, and if it took this conversation, ripping the blinders off who he was, then he had to welcome it.

He took a breath, keeping his grip on Skylar's hand tight. "Killing him again wouldn't change anything."

"It changed a lot the first time I did it." Chase walked back over and sank wearily onto the couch facing him. "It freed us."

"Not all of us. Not completely." He paused. "Not me."

"Fuck." The pain etched on Chase's face was visceral.

Logan never wanted to feel that pain. He kept his locked up, and that was where it would stay. Forever. No feelings were better than the expression on his brother's face.

To do his job, his emotions had been trained out of him, and he needed it to stay that way. Chase's pain was proof of that. "I love you, Chase. I love Mira, and the kids. Steen and Erin. Zane and Taylor. All of you guys. All the kids. I'd give my life for any of you in a heartbeat. But I can't live the life you guys have. I can't live a normal life. Not ever." He didn't look at Skylar when he said it.

Now that she was hearing this truth, he knew she'd never look at him the same as she once had. As if he had value. As if he were a good guy. As if he were someone who mattered as a human being, instead of simply a human weapon.

He was surprised by the depth of regret that swamped him at the thought.

So he didn't look at her.

But he didn't let go of her hand either.

"As soon as this is solved, I'm going back," he told his brother. "I'll always go back."

Chase braced his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his palms, saying nothing. He didn't need to say anything. The defeat in his posture said it all.

For ten years, Logan had dealt with the constant pressure from Chase to move back to Rogue Valley. For ten years, his brother had refused to give up on him. But right now, in this moment, he knew that Chase had finally given up.

Logan was stunned by the deep grief clogging his throat at the realization that his brother was finally going to let him go. He realized, too late, that Chase's constant harassment had been the thinnest filament keeping Logan bound to the humanity he couldn't be a part of. And he'd just severed it.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry, Chase."

Chase looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Never apologize, Logan." His voice was rough with the tears he refused to shed. "There's only one fucker who owes us an apology, and he's dead. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. The damage is done."

Logan nodded, his own throat tight. "That it is, but I am truly sorry that I can't be what you want."

Chase met his gaze. "It's not about what I want, Logan. It's about what you want. Is that what you want? That life? The CIA?"

"Yes." But as he said it, a silent scream welled up inside him, a voice that shrieked that he was lying, that he was always lying.

He ignored the scream. As he always did.

Chase took a breath, then nodded. "Okay, then."

Okay, then. It was over. The gossamer thread that led back to Chase was now gone.

Logan felt like he'd just pitched off a cliff and was freefalling into an abyss of the darkest night.

"Let's focus, then," Chase said. "Tell me what I need to know about you and Skylar."

And just like that, back to business. The way his whole life was. Always back to business.