of her brothers—Garek—voiced his sentiment. “You hate his guts, Stace.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“You’ve said over and over that you hate his guts,” Garek persisted. “Why are you lying about it now? What’s he got on you?”
What did he think Logan could have on her? Proof that she and her brothers were responsible for the shootings? He hoped like hell he had it, then he could call her on her lie and end this nonsense. Then he could call the police...
“My gratitude,” she said. “He saved my life.” She turned toward him and glanced up. Maybe her gaze was supposed to be adoring, but she just looked miserable. “He’s my hero.”
Garek snorted. “And that just erases everything else he’s done to our father?”
Her snotty aunt added, “To our family? You’re betraying your father. Your uncle. Your brothers...”
Ignoring her aunt, she replied to her brother only, “I understand why he’s done what he has.”
“I don’t understand what you think you’re doing,” Logan murmured. Her family was never going to buy that she’d had such a drastic change of heart over him.
“If the situation was reversed,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “we would have done the same. Or more...”
“He killed our father,” Milek said, his words slurred. He had definitely been drinking. “And you’re rewarding him for it.”
“Logan did not kill Dad,” Stacy defended him. “Some gang member did.”
“He wouldn’t have had the chance if your boyfriend—”
“Fiancé,” she corrected her brother. “And stop. Just stop...all of it.” She turned toward Logan. “It’s been a long day. Please, take me home.”
Did she mean his home? He wasn’t about to bring her there. She would probably set it on fire. And he had no idea where she lived. But instead of asking any questions in front of her resentful family, he escorted her out of the pub.
“Have you been drinking with your brother?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.
“I’m not drunk,” she said. Her gray eyes were clear as she glared at him.
“Then why on earth—”
“We can’t talk about it here,” she said. “There are cameras in the lot.”
Her paranoia lifted his brows with surprise. “And you think your brothers would look at the footage?”
“I don’t know about them,” she said. “But I wouldn’t put it past my aunt.” She stepped on the running board of his SUV, but her heel slipped and she fell back against him. His arms closed around her, and he lifted her easily onto the seat. Maybe she was as exhausted as she’d claimed because she didn’t fight him. Or maybe she was just worried about what her aunt might see on the security cameras.
“Okay, I’ll drive you home,” he said.
She waited until he rounded the front bumper and slid behind the wheel before she replied, “It’s the least you can do since I’m saving your life.”
“So you admit my life is in danger because of you?” His suspicions had obviously not been unfounded. He pushed aside the guilt he’d been feeling for interrupting her father’s funeral to confront her. And it wasn’t just his mother who’d made him feel guilty but Stacy had, too—with all the pain he’d seen in her gray eyes.
She was mourning. He understood that; he’d spent the past fifteen years mourning the loss of his father. Hers was to blame for that, but she wasn’t. Maybe for the first time in fifteen years he realized that.
She emitted a soft, shaky sigh. “I’m not admitting anything, Detective Payne.”
“I haven’t been a detective for a few years.” Not since he’d started Payne Protection Agency.
“I think you’ll always be a detective,” she replied.
“If I was, I wouldn’t have to ask where you live,” he pointed out. “I would already know.”
She arched her brows in surprise. She must have assumed he knew. But Logan was just realizing how very little he actually knew about his fake fiancée. He had been so focused on what her father had done that he’d never paid attention to what she had done. Or what she was doing...
What was she doing? And not just with her life but with him? Why was she willing to pretend she was in love with him? What was her real agenda?
“I’ll tell you where I live,” she said. “But we have to stop somewhere else first.”
Maybe her agreeing to his mother’s plan was just a ruse for her to get him alone—somewhere that she would have no witnesses to her killing him.
* * *
WONDERING WHICH ONE would attack first, Stacy studied the two alpha males with which she shared the relatively small confines of the SUV. Cujo sat on the backseat, but the German shepherd’s black-and-tan body was so long that his head reached over the console. She scratched him behind his droopy ear, and he whined and licked her face.
“I missed you, too,” she murmured.
“Why’d you have him at the kennel?” Logan asked. He had obviously been surprised that was the place she’d had him stop before taking her home.
“Because I’ve been staying with a friend since my dad died,” she said.
“And that friend didn’t want Cujo staying, too?” he asked with a derisive snort.
The German shepherd whipped his big head toward Logan and nudged his shoulder with his nose. The SUV swerved a little before Logan gripped the wheel more tightly. “What he’d do that for?”
She chuckled. “That’s his name.”
“Cujo?”
The dog barked and then nudged him again. Logan held his hand between them, letting the canine sniff him before petting his head. If Cujo had been a cat, he might have purred.
“Traitor,” she teased him. The dog had apparently conceded which one of them was the true alpha male. She wasn’t surprised it was Logan. Since he was the boss of the family business, his brothers and sister must have conceded he was the alpha male, too.
“That’s probably what your family is saying about you now,” Logan said. “That you’re the traitor.”
Her stomach churned with nerves. They were the only thing in it. She hadn’t been able to eat since she’d seen her father in the prison infirmary. “Probably.”
“So why did you claim to be my fiancée?” he asked. “Because you know your brothers have been trying to kill me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know any such thing.”
“Liar,” he softly accused her.
She should have been offended but liar was the least of his insults. He thought she was a killer, too. “You really think I put out a hit on you and hired my brothers to do it?”
“You wouldn’t need to hire them,” he replied. “They’ll do whatever you tell them to.”
That was what she was counting on—to keep them from killing Logan Payne. “If I wanted you dead, why would I tell them that I’m going to marry you?”
“You want to be able to collect my life insurance,” he suggested, “as my widow.”
“Hmm,” she mock-mused, “I hadn’t considered that.” She nodded as if committing to the idea like she was going to try to make everyone believe she was going to commit to him. “At least then