Page 21 of Embattled Return

Palmer was in his chair to Wilde’s right, talking to a massive guy with a mostly shaved head. Marigold had no idea who that was, or what he did for the company. Actually, there were several men down there she didn’t recognize.

She scanned the room. Shannon and a few of the women were seated at the long table, drinking glasses of wine or ice water. When she saw Marigold, she waved and called her over. “Go ahead,” Alex murmured. “I’m the unofficial hostess tonight, so I’m stuck on door duty.”

Marigold crossed to the table, Logan close behind her.

“Marigold, this is Willow, Ember, Rachel, Kendall, and I think you’ve met Lora.”

All of the women were beautiful, in completely different ways, and made Marigold wish she had the tiniest bit of poise that these women had. She lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” She held out a hand for Logan to step up. “This is Logan, everyone. He’s here for Palmer to investigate something for him.”

The women all said hello, and she watched for any of them to react adversely to his injuries, but they’d all been around the group long enough to know when not to react. Hell, they all had their own injured warriors.

Wait. Their own? Marigold looked at Logan, wondering when she’d gotten possessive over him. That really wasn’t like her. Yes, she’d had the overwhelming feeling that she needed to know him, but did she need to claim him? She didn’t think so. That really wasn’t her style. The thought of dealing with a significant other right now made her tired. There was too much going on in her life. It was difficult to deny the tingle she felt when he was nearby, though. That was something she hadn’t felt with anyone else before.

Logan seemed like a decent guy, and he was damn easy on the eyes, in spite of the injuries, but she didn’t think John and Shannon would appreciate her hooking up with one of their clients.

Logan shifted away from the group like he wanted to fade into the background. Marigold caught Shannon’s gaze and the woman shared a smile with her in understanding. Their group was a lot, and it could be overwhelming. Logan had the look of a drowning man. She would let him catch his breath for a minute.

8

Logan looked around the room at the people gathered there. What the hell was he doing here? These people meant nothing to him, and they were derailing his objective. He needed to get in, apologize to Miller’s family, and get out.

Sounded easier than he knew it would be.

It was hard to stay on point, when he could see the joy and excitement bubbling around him. Apparently, this was a project they’d been working on for a while and it had just come to fruition. Logan felt like a voyeur, spying on their accomplishments. And then the women had welcomed him into their midst, for some reason making him feel like even more of an interloper.

It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t fight the ache that being with these people created in his chest. For months now, he’d resigned himself to dying alone on his terms, when he wanted to and how he wanted to, where he wanted to. Being here gave him a glimpse of what he would be giving up by leaving the world. He glanced back at Marigold and fought not to stare at her mobile face laughing with Shannon about something.

Could he even remember being that enthusiastic about anything? Maybe about joining the Army years ago. And he’d been excited about nearing the end of his contract. Until it all went to hell.

Moving to an open table on the far side of the room, he sat with his back to the wall. A floating waiter crossed to him. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”

“Beer, whatever you have on draft, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Logan was glad the guy left without trying to ID him. That would have been more than he could handle right then. Usually the scars were enough to advance his age to the point that wait staff let him pass.

Baby face, my ass...

He glanced at Marigold. She’d drawn up a chair to sit with the women, and she was speaking in-depth to Shannon about something. The two of them were kind of lost in their own little world. The rest of the women talked around and over their heads, giving them a semblance of privacy.

It was awkward being here. Pulling his phone from his pocket he looked for his Uber app.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. John Palmer was rolling toward him. Logan set his phone on the table. He took John’s hand when it was offered.

“Logan, I’m glad you made it. I hope Marigold wasn’t as rude as she was earlier.”

Logan smiled. “Nah, she was fine.”

John leaned back in his chair. “I’m coming up with dead ends right now, buddy, I’ll be honest. Can you think of any other details that might help me narrow things down?”

Logan racked his brain, trying to come up with something. “I don’t know. I believe I told you everything I can think of that might narrow it down. I mean, I was little when we moved to Virginia. I have flashes of faces but nothing concrete. That was before pictures on cell phones, and stuff. I’m just going by little things my dad said. Or my mom whispered. They got into a fight once. I remember my mom wanted to send ‘them’ a card for Christmas. My bedroom was on the second floor, but when my parents fought, I could hear it through my register in the floor. Anyway, she wanted to send the card and he said absolutely not, that they didn’t deserve to know how we were doing.”

John frowned, leaning forward in his chair. “Did they fight like that a lot?”

The waiter arrived then with Logan’s glass of beer and a fresh bottle for John. Logan thanked the kid and took a swallow, needing the liquid in his throat. It was good beer. “They fought more than the average family I suppose. It wasn’t great. My dad had a substance abuse problem most of his life.”

“I’m sorry about that,” John said quietly, and Logan could tell that he meant it. “My mother did as well. I assume that was why she left me at a church when I was five.”

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