SEAL’s Redemption by Leslie North

7

They got home a couple of hours later. The guys had had a new SUV dropped off in the hospital parking lot, and Logan had driven them home at a snail’s pace, double checking all his mirrors before moving an inch. They’d received more than a few honks and a couple rude finger gestures, but he didn’t give a shit. As long as Hope and the baby were safe, the rest of the world could just deal.

She’d gotten a clean bill of health, praise God. And the ER had sent her home with some free vitamin samples and a sheet of instructions on how to handle the inevitable soreness that always came the day after a car accident. If she had any problems or questions, she was to contact them immediately.

Logan parked at the curb, then got out to help Hope from the vehicle. He could tell by her expression that she was getting more annoyed with him by the second, but he couldn’t seem to stop fussing over her.

“Will you stop it?” she said finally, slapping at his hands when he all but carried her up the sidewalk to the porch. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

“Sorry,” he said, taking the keys from her hand and turning away from her to unlock the door to hide his grin. Man, she was cute when she was pissed. Not that she’d appreciate hearing that right now, especially from him. And he shouldn’t be thinking it either. He was here as protection, that was it. The sooner he remembered that, the better. Which meant no more kisses—no matter how good they felt.

He let them in her place and then pulled out his phone again. Logan frowned down at the blank screen. He’d hoped to see some kind of news from the cops or his security team buddies with progress on the case. The cops had the plate number too, so someone should have been able to run it by now.

“Any news?” Hope asked as she went into the kitchen for a bottled water. She offered him one, but he declined.

“No, not yet.” He plunked down on one end of the sofa as Hope took the other. She clicked on the TV, then opened her laptop to work. Logan stared at the flickering images on the flatscreen but didn’t really see them. His mind was still racing from the accident, trying to figure out who might have been behind it. The police still insisted that the gang was off Hope’s tail, at least according to the detective who’d met them at the ER. Logan might’ve snapped at the guy then, but dammit. His temper was running short, and he couldn’t understand how the police had screwed this all up so badly. And if it wasn’t the gang responsible for the hit-and-run today, then who the hell was behind it?

Gah. His head hurt and his chest felt tight. This line of thinking was getting him nowhere and only making him more frustrated.

Thankfully, his phone buzzed with a text from his security buddies. According to the plate number, the sedan that had struck them belonged to a local rental company and had been rented just that morning. The renter owned a chauffeur company who handled transport for a handful of rich Baltimore society families, none of whom had ties to the mob or the gang.

Perfect.

Another dead end.

“I got an email from the reporter I turned the gang story over to,” Hope said, drawing Logan out of his thoughts. “He says he hasn’t received any threats or had any problems, even though he’s already put out two stories on the Sinclair case under his byline, so maybe what happened earlier today didn’t have anything to do with the gang. Could it really have been just a hit-and-run?”

“Maybe.” He raked a hand through his hair and sat forward, setting his phone on the coffee table in front of him and scrubbing a hand over his face. “It doesn’t seem likely, though. That kind of behavior…that’s just not how people act when they didn’t intend to hurt anyone. But if it wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t the gangs, then what else could it be? What would make someone threaten your life? Something else you’re working on?”

“Not sure what that would be.” She shrugged. “Like I said, my only other project is the Diana Lauren case, but that was twenty years ago. Why would anyone be so upset about it? I’ve only interviewed a handful of people, and most of them aren’t even local.”

“Hmm.” Logan exhaled slow then stood, picking up his phone again. “The guys at my security agency got a name for me from the plate number. Mick Kleypas. A chauffeur. I’m going to dig into him. See if there’s some connection between him and that Lauren case.” At her dubious look, he sighed. “I know it’s not much to go on, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

Before he’d really gotten a chance to dig into it though, his phone buzzed, this time with a call from his boss at the agency, Tink Williams. Logan had been in touch with plenty of the guys on the team for the past few days—but they had all told him that the boss didn’t usually reach out unless there was a problem.

Shit. Just shit.

He’d thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of keeping up with his duties with the security team while still keeping an eye on Hope, but maybe not. And yeah, he probably should’ve run his plans to work remotely past Tink first, but the guys had said they’d cover for him, and he’d had so much else on his mind. Everyone said that the rules around the office were pretty lax as long as you got the job done, but he was the new guy on the block and…

Fuck.

“Miller,” he answered, doing his best to sound as casual as possible.

“Where the hell are you?” Tink said, his gruff tone as intimidating as the man himself. Roscoe “Tink” Williams was in his early forties and six-foot-six of solid muscle and attitude. He’d gotten his nickname not from the Disney character—you only tried that joke once with Tink, and lived to regret it—but because he loved tinkering around with stuff and could build a weapon or anything else out of just about anything. He was like the modern day MacGyver or something. “Did I okay this remote work bullshit? Because I have no memory of that conversation, Logan.”

“Uh, no. I…” What could he say? I decided on my own to do what I wanted? I took it upon myself to make my personal matters a priority? Put myself before the team? Logan didn’t want to believe that any of those things were true. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. Not to mention, he needed this damned job. Not just for the paycheck but also to keep himself busy and out of trouble until he went back to his SEAL team. Dammit. He wasn’t a guy who went around talking about himself, but he’d always found honesty to be the best policy, so that’s what he went with. “Listen, I’ve got a situation with a friend. She’s been targeted by some attacks, and I’ve been trying to help her out with protection and some investigation into who might be behind it.” He left out the part about the baby. There were some lines he wasn’t ready to cross yet. “But I’ve been handling my assignments at the office virtually, and everything should be caught up. I’m keeping on top of all my cases, I swear.”

“Right. And what about using my staff as a support team for your personal project?”

Logan cringed. Shit. He’d hoped to keep to himself the fact he’d asked the guys to run that plate number for him. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight, it won’t. I’ll let it slide just this once, but in return, I expect you to get your butt down here and show me that you’re committed to this job. I want you working back in the office today,” Tink said, his stern tone brooking no argument. “Understood?”

A wise man would’ve heeded that warning, and every SEAL-trained instinct inside Logan screamed for him to do so, but now it wasn’t just about him. There was Hope and the baby to consider. She was looking at him now, her expression chock full of WTF. He thought of how she’d looked just a few hours before, blood trickling down her face and horror filling her eyes. “Tink, sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Excuse me?”

He held up a finger to Hope, asking her to give him a minute, then walked down the hall and closed himself into her office before continuing. “Look, Tink, I appreciate you taking me on, especially since it was such short notice and I’m only here for a couple of months, but this situation with my friend has escalated to the point where her life is in danger. I can’t just leave her to deal with this on her own.”

“That’s what police are for,” Tink said. “And our paying clients need your protection too, Logan.”

“I know, sir. And like I said, I’m handling all my cases. Nothing will fall through the cracks because of me, I promise.”

“Except my bottom line.” Tink cursed quietly. He took a deep breath, the sound reverberating over the phone line. “I appreciate you want to help out a friend. I get it. I do. But I’ve got a business to run here too, Logan. And I need my team on the floor, ready to deal with whatever comes up. We pride ourselves on our prompt and exceptional service. So, I’m sorry, but unless your friend wants to become a client, you need to drop this and get your ass back to the office. Today.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to curse. He couldn’t walk away from Hope and their baby. Especially not now. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was starting to become sore from the accident, just like the ER doc had warned them, then asked, “How much would it cost for my friend to hire me exclusively per week, round the clock, for protection?”

“Round the clock?” Tink hesitated, probably calculating the figures in his head, then said, “Ten thousand a week.”

“What?” Logan scowled at the wall across from him. It was possible Tink was just making up some ridiculous sum, but then again, he was the boss and could charge what he wanted. But it still sucked. Even if Hope had that kind of money sitting around, Logan had a feeling that the investigation into who was after her would last a couple of weeks, which would only drive the grand total higher and…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What’s it gonna be, Logan?” Tink asked, a hint of victory in his voice that rubbed Logan all kinds of wrong. “Either you come into the office today to get to work—or to clean out your desk. Your choice.”

He inhaled deeply, running his own numbers in his head. He’d saved up most of his military pay. It was more than enough to cover his bills for the next few months before he re-enlisted. He’d gotten the job less to cover expenses and more to have a way to keep himself occupied. He didn’t need the paycheck. More than that, he’d never forgive himself if he went back to work only to have something happen to Hope and the baby. In the end, there was no choice at all.

“Right,” Logan said, gut tight and heart squeezing. “Then I guess I’ll come in…and clear out that desk.”