Dark Knight: A Loveswept Romance Classic Read online

  “That’s bull—”

  Scottie pressed her fingers against his mouth. “I know that. Just like you know that Sarah dying wasn’t your fault. Not really.”

  He pulled her hand away. “Not the same thing. It was my decision not to move her that directly caused the chain of events that killed her. You didn’t start those riots.”

  “Logan—”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.” He pressed his forehead against hers. After a moment of silence, he said, very quietly, “Maybe I’m starting to understand that no matter what I did that night, I might have lost her anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever excuse myself entirely, though. I can’t. Some of the guilt is mine.”

  She carefully lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “See, that’s just it. I don’t feel guilty because I thought it was my fault they died. I feel guilty because the moment it was confirmed to me that they had both died, I should have been overcome with grief and anguish.”

  “You felt those things, Scottie. It was a harrowing day. Six other police officers died along with a score of civilians. You can be excused for being in shock and not—”

  “I wasn’t in shock. And what I felt was relief. Stone-cold relief.” She hung her head. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

  TEN

  Logan was all set to debate the issue, but bit off the argument at the last second. Who was he to preach to her about unwarranted guilt?

  Unwarranted. He was actually beginning to think of what happened with Sarah a bit more objectively. He knew he would never entirely excuse himself and didn’t feel he should. His decisions, good or bad, had played a role in her death. There was no way around that fact. But the condemning aspect of the guilt was receding, along with some of the anguish.

  He looked at the woman he held in his arms. She was responsible. She made him think about things in an entirely different way. Maybe it was because she’d had a background similar to his, though he’d never once been tempted to date a fellow cop. No, it went much deeper than that. His connection to her was … instinctive, as if he knew her. Knew her. Sharing similar careers didn’t create a bond like theirs. This connection was soul to soul.

  Once the words sprang to his mind, he couldn’t ignore the basic truth of them. Sarah had captured his heart and his imagination, but this woman had captured something far more valuable. She’d captured his spirit, his very soul. She had connected to the man he truly was, every layer, good and bad. She made him feel … accepted.

  His throat grew tight, and his eyes were suddenly itchy. He tucked her head against his chest to buy a moment or two to get ahold of the emotions that had suddenly swamped him. But the moment she nestled her cheek to his chest, the battle only intensified.

  “What did you do after they died?” he asked gruffly.

  She snuggled closer. His heart squeezed another notch tighter.

  He felt more than heard her gentle sigh. “I buried them. With all the media hoopla surrounding the aftermath of the riots, it was an exhausting time. After that, I stayed on the force. As a detective. Everyone was very sympathetic.”

  “You had a hard time dealing with that, didn’t you?”

  She lifted her head and stared at him, her expression a mix of wonder and gratitude. “Yes, I did. With everything going on, I was wiped out. I doubt anyone noticed that it was more exhaustion that made me pale and tired looking, rather than overwhelming grief.”

  “You grieved, Scottie. Maybe not the way you think you should have, but it still tore a hole in your life.”

  She thought about that for a moment, then said, “Maybe you’re right. I grieved for what should have been. For the type of family I so badly wanted us to be, for the family we never could be now.” Her eyes were a bit glassy as she continued to stare up at him. “You know, to this day, you are the only one who’s ever truly understood all this. Understood the way I felt.” She blinked hard several times. “Thank you. Thank you for making it okay.”

  “Maybe you should have given someone the chance to hear you out before this.” Even as he said it, he knew she wouldn’t have. He’d trusted her with a piece of himself, feelings he’d never shared before, because somehow he’d known she would understand. He sensed she had just done the same with him.

  “No,” she said, confirming his intuition. “I was ashamed of how I felt, but it didn’t change the fact that I did feel the way I did. No one would have understood something like that. I was never big into discussing my personal problems with anyone.”

  Until now, he thought. And she’d chosen him to confide in. He’d have said she’d chosen unwisely except for one incontrovertible fact: He did understand.

  “I’m sure it was no secret that we weren’t a loving, close family, but—”

  “On the surface you dealt with it,” he finished for her. “In public and at work you probably even joked about it, deflected all sorts of questioning looks and comments with a well-chosen word or toss-away one-liner.”

  “You sure you worked Detroit and not my precinct?” She tried to make it a joke, but there was a slight wide-eyed look about her that made it fall just short of the mark.

  He knew that feeling, he was experiencing the same one. “Spooky, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” she said softly. After a moment, she glanced away almost shyly. It was a sweet surprise, another side to Scottie he’d bet his bottom dollar not many, if any, suspected existed.

  “Why not transfer to another force?”

  “I thought about it. Start over, create a whole new life. I had an application into San Francisco. I did my research. I thought I had a good shot there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got another job offer. A better one.”

  “Working for Uncle Sam?”

  She nodded. “You know, it’s been eleven years since they died. This should be easier to talk about.”

  “But you haven’t ever talked about it, have you? Time doesn’t heal all wounds, especially the ones that are never dealt with. They are left to fester.”

  She nodded against his chest, then smiled up at him. “I think this one is on its way to healing now. Thanks, Doc.”

  “Just returning the favor, Doc.” Logan cuddled her closer, reveling in the way she immediately curled against him. Acceptance. The word floated through his mind again.

  It was a heady thing to think she felt as accepted by him, flaws and all, as he did by her. Amazing even to think in terms of acceptance. If anyone had ever asked him, he’d have quite honestly told them he didn’t give a rat’s behind what anyone thought of him. He’d have never guessed just how badly he needed to be truly understood and accepted this way. Powerful, earthshaking stuff.

  He pressed his lips to her hair, kissing her softly as he drank in the scent of her. He felt drunk on the rainbow of sensations and emotions cascading through him. He didn’t want to be sober ever again.

  “You never told me the whole story,” he said.

  “What story?”

  “Anunsciata.”

  “Oh. That story.” When he didn’t say anything right away, he felt her laugh softly into his shirt. “Go ahead, do your worst,” she said. “I’m immune.”

  “No jokes.” But a moment later he said, “Your father really did have it in for you from day one, didn’t he?”

  She laughed louder this rime, the deep timbre vibrating against his skin … and his heart.

  “My mother’s grandmother’s middle name was Anunsciata. Old-world Italians, very religious.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what your middle name is.”

  Scottie looked up and smiled. “Bernadina. After my father’s favorite great-aunt.”

  Logan made a face. “Poor kid.”

  “Yeah, well, Scottie was better than Bernie, to me anyway. I tried to focus on that.”

  He grinned. “Boy, I bet you hated getting in trouble.” When she looked confused, he said, “Didn’t your dad pull the full name out when you bro
ke the rules? I think I would have done just about anything to not hear ‘Anunsciata Bernadina!’ ”

  She laughed, nodding. “Yeah, he was the type. It made for some embarrassing moments in roll call.”

  Logan’s eyes widened. “Roll call?”

  “You don’t think he stopped just because I grew up? It got worse as I got older.” Her eyes sparkled. “Especially when I outranked him.”

  “Another lifetime beat cop? Man, your dad and mine together could have been scary. My dad lived by the creed that it was the patrolmen against the chain of command. He routinely threatened to retire every time they tried to promote him. Eventually they gave up.” He smiled fondly. “He was one hell of a beat cop, though. Made it his business to know everybody in his neighborhood and made damn sure they all knew him.”

  “Sounds like a man to admire. Wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting him.”

  “Me too,” Logan said. “Even after he retired, which he only did when his body finally stopped passing the annual physicals, and opened up Blackie’s, he still kept current with everything that was going on. The bar was a hangout for cops and locals alike. Everyone was comfortable at Blackie’s place. He used to say it was his contribution to community relations to make sure cops and citizens got drunk together every once in a while.”

  “I bet he’s terribly missed,” she said.

  “It was a helluva wake, aye, it was.” Logan thought back on the three-block-long street party that had lasted on through the night and well into the dawn hours. “Yeah, he’s missed,” he said quietly.

  “I’m sorry, Logan,” she said just as softly.

  He looked down at her. “Me too. He was all I had.”

  “Until now.”

  For a moment, Logan froze. His immediate thought was that she was referring to herself. It was what he’d thought of when she’d said it. But she meant—

  “I can’t imagine how it must feel. A brother, a twin no less,” she said. “It’s so amazing. I know it was a shock, but it’s also a blessing. Other than the fact that I’d never have wanted to subject anyone else to my father’s tyranny, I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to have a brother or sister. You were an only child. Didn’t you ever wish for siblings?”

  “Maybe. I guess so. Probably not the way you did. I spent a few years around puberty wishing I had a mother, but my dad and I were close. Our place was always full of other cops and their wives and kids. I was never lonely. Then I discovered girls and well …” He wiggled his eyebrows, wanting to make her laugh.

  Strangely, he didn’t want to talk about Lucas with her. Not because he didn’t want to know more about him. She probably knew more about his mysterious twin than anyone else. He did want to pick her brain, find out all he could. Just not right at that moment.

  Right now, he didn’t want to share her with anyone, not with his phantom brother, not even with memories of their pasts. Right at this moment, he wanted her all to himself, wanted her attention focused exclusively on the here and now. He wanted her.

  She did laugh. “I can see where girls could dominate a young boy’s thoughts.”

  “What about you?” he asked, smiling despite the increasing desire clawing at his insides.

  “Think about girls?” she tossed back with mock sincerity. “Nah. I mean, I was sort of butch, but—”

  Logan’s laughter rang full and deep. It felt wonderful. He hugged her. “In your case I was talking about boys. Didn’t you fall in and out of love on a regular basis when you were twelve or thirteen?”

  “Nope. I’ve been a one-man woman from the start.” She sighed dramatically and patted her heart. “Matt Liganotti. We fell in love in science class. We shared the same frog. You should have seen his dissecting skills.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Thick glasses and red hair. What a babe.” She giggled. “I’d forgotten all about him.”

  The innocent sound, coming from someone whose childhood sounded as if it had been anything but, charmed him. He loved that he could give pieces of the good times back to her.

  “He probably never got over you.”

  “Oh, I never actually let him know. Heaven forbid.” She rolled her eyes. “My father was rather clear from the time I was like, seven, that there would be no dating until I was at least twenty, and then only with a chaperon, meaning him.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine? That was the downside of being a cop’s daughter. Every boy, no matter his background, was a potential drug dealer or rapist.”

  He knew she was exaggerating, but probably not as much as she should have been. “It wasn’t much easier being the son of a cop,” he said. “God help my hide if I ever got caught necking in my car.”

  She grinned. “Did you?”

  “Necking?” He cleared his throat. “Uh, no.”

  She laughed out loud and smacked his chest. “You didn’t?”

  He nodded, trying to cover a grin with a sober, penitent look. She clearly didn’t buy it for a second. “Mary Louise Redenbacher.”

  She eyed him with a disapproving frown. “Well, I only have one thing to say about that.”

  “Which is?” he asked warily.

  She beamed a devilish grin of her own. “Was she worth it?”

  He choked on a surprise laugh but quickly recovered. “Oh yeah.” He added a heartfelt sigh. “Both times.”

  She thumped his chest again in mock effrontery, and he laughed. She tried not to join him, but he kept it up until she collapsed against him, giggling until she was gasping for air.

  He tipped her chin up until she looked at him. Her eyes were alive with delight, her wide smile invited him to smile along with her. Simply put, she knocked his socks off.

  Kissing her seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. Her eyelids slid half closed as his mouth neared hers, her smile changed to parted lips that invited something else entirely. It was an invitation he couldn’t have refused even if it had meant imminent death.

  “You’re one of a kind, Scottie Giardi,” he whispered.

  A slight smile curved her lips. “Better than Mary Louise Redenbacher?”

  “Why don’t we find out?”

  She was laughing as he took her mouth. It quickly changed to a deep-throated moan.

  “I want you, Scottie. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this way.”

  She pushed back enough to look in his eyes. Sarah, again, he thought, somewhat disappointed. He didn’t want her to dwell on the past any longer. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was looking forward to the future. Hoping he wasn’t letting his irritation show, he said, “Listen—”

  She spoke at the same time. “Yeah, but how are you at dissecting frogs?”

  It took a second for the question to register. Delight filled him. “Have no idea,” he said. “I let Marcia Johnson slice mine open. She wielded a pretty mean scalpel.”

  “I’ll just bet she did.”

  He buried his face in her neck. “There’s only one thing I want to examine up close and personal.” He nibbled along the edge of her jaw.

  “Oh?” The word was more like a soft gasp.

  He loved watching her sharp eyes grow a little misty and unfocused. “Yes, oh.” He drew his tongue along her lower lip, then pulled it gently with his teeth. “Mmmm … mine,” he said, then covered the rest of her mouth with his.

  Scottie sank willingly as waves of sensations rolled over and through her. It wasn’t just physical desire that held her in thrall. Oddly, that was almost a side benefit. In his arms, she had an inescapable sense of homecoming. With Logan she felt an inner relaxation, a loosening up of an integral part of her that she’d held in steely check for as long as she could remember. Logan understood her.

  Somehow, she’d known he would. Was that why she’d decided to open up and tell him about a past she hadn’t discussed with anyone in ten years? Because he made her feel safe? She almost laughed at the idea. The very last thing she felt around Logan Blackstone was safe.

  And yet, she
was.

  His lips drew a soft, warm line down her throat, nuzzling aside her turtleneck to explore even farther. She felt a sudden, desperate need to rip every scrap of clothing from her body … and from his. She wanted to drown in the exquisite sensations that would surely saturate her every pore if she could only feel his skin against hers.

  “Logan, I need—” She broke off on a gasp as he found her ear.

  “Need, yes,” he rumbled.

  “Clothes,” she managed.

  “No clothes,” he said, breathing as heavily as she.

  “No. I mean yes.” She gasped as he levered off her enough to yank both his shirts off with one violent tug. “Yes, definitely no clothes.”

  She clawed at her own shirt, scrambling to peel the long, snug sleeves from her arms, her eyes riveted to the broad expanse of chest hovering above her, wanting with a need akin to desperation, to feel that tightly wrapped skin pressed against her own. She thought she would explode from frustration when she couldn’t get the thing off over her head.

  “Let me.” With a tug it was gone and he was back, his chest filling her entire range of vision. He was already working on her pants, shimmying them down her hips. Somewhere along the line, probably when she was wrestling with her shirt, his pants had managed to disappear. Then he was on top of her and they were both blissfully naked. It was even more incredibly wonderful than she’d imagined. She wanted to take time, hours to explore his body, enjoying every inch of her travels, but other needs dominated.

  She sunk her fingers into all that dark, thick hair and pulled his face down to hers. Later. She’d investigate to her heart’s content later. “Now,” she demanded. His grin was past wicked even as he raised a questioning brow. “Logan,” she warned.

  “Your command is my wish,” he said, making her smile even as the ache between her legs threatened to paralyze her. He nudged her legs apart. Broad hands pulled her thighs up over his hips as he angled himself above her.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He was nothing short of magnificent and, for right now, he was all hers. He slowly slid inside her, filling her so perfectly, so completely. This went deeper than satisfaction, this meant more than simply finding release. At that crystalline moment, her life was perfectly balanced, her soul was in complete harmony. She struggled to grasp the meaning of it all, but then he began to move deep inside her and all thoughts of inner peace and homecoming slid into the netherworld of her mind as more primal directives took over.