Page 41 of My Cowboy Salvation
But he’s silent, his jaw tense as he processes this, looking like someone who would rather be anywhere but here. It wouldn’t be hard. He only has to say,Hey, Dylan. I have feelings for you too. But…and then insert whatever bullshit he wants to tell me why we can’t be together. He’s not even doing that.
I can’t do this. I can’t just sit here, feel every word—or lack of words—like the cut of a knife across my overly sensitive skin.
“I have to get to work,” I say and stand quickly, taking my mug to the sink and rinsing it out. “Hope is running through some new training exercises with the horses and wants me to help out.”
“Dylan,” he says, finally speaking. “I’m sorry if this hurts you. It’s not my intention. But I need to have a clear head if I’m going to offer you any protection. And I need to speak honestly with my son when and if he finally talks to me again about the fact that whatever we had going is over.”
And there it is. Over. It’s over.
“You do whatever you need to do, Chief. Sorry I complicated your life. But you don’t have to worry about me. I got the message.” Grabbing the keys from the hook, I walk to the door on trembling legs.
“So you know,” Logan says, his voice near like he’s following me to the door. “I’m going to have one of my deputies keep eyes on you until we know if there’s any threat.”
Sure enough, I can see a patrol car sitting outside. “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate that,” I say, sounding as courteous as I can under the circumstances.
It’s not until I’ve pulled out of the driveway and down the street that I let the tears I’ve been holding back wash down over my face.
A mistake. He called us a mistake. That, I don’t think, I’ll ever get over.
Chapter 21
Logan
It’s beenthree days since that horrible morning when I ended things with Dylan, and every day feels like I shoved a hot poker in my chest. Like ending a chapter in my life. Not just any chapter, but a chapter in a book where everything is just starting to get good and you can’t stop turning the pages.
But it had to be done. If I ever hope to repair my relationship with Parker, I can’t be doing it while I’m sleeping with the woman he’s in love with, no matter how important she’s become to me.
I’ve always prided myself on being a man of service. Of sacrifice and honor, protecting those I love, like Parker. And yet, knowing I was going to hurt him, I acted selfishly. Did what felt good and right for me and pushed any thought of who I might be hurting to the back of my mind. Not that I didn’t feel guilty doing it, which might be worse. I knew it was wrong and did it anyway.
But not anymore. I can’t keep hurting people. Parker and Dylan both. Dylan deserves better. She deserves a life in a big metropolis where she can show off that amazing talent of hers to the world. And to give her that, I need to catch that son of a bitch and put an end to his reign of terror over her life.
“Chief. You have a call on line two,” Ann says from the threshold of my office door.
“Who is it?” I ask more roughly than I intended. Immediately she gives me a look that says she doesn’t appreciate said gruffness. “Sorry. Today’s been a day.”
“Every day for the past few days have been a day, if you ask me,” she says half under her breath. “It’s Darlene Fulchrom over at the town’s chamber of commerce.”
Talking to Darlene isn’t going to make my mood any better, not when she’s bound to throw out a few overtures my way. I’m in no mood to try to dance the dance today. “Take a message.” My assistant glares at me. “Sorry. Please.”
She nods, satisfied with my correction, and returns to her desk. I mull over how long I can squat in my office before I can grab dinner when my cellphone rings.
The number flashing has me sitting up straight. “What’ve you found?”
“This guy is either very smart or has a lot of money and powerful friends to cover his tracks.”
“I’ll go with the latter,” I say, and wait patiently for Noah to get to the point.
“Had a girlfriend back in college. Samantha Bailey. They were pretty serious, and then one day she just disappeared.”
“Disappeared? How is that possible?”
“Guess she didn’t have any family. A friend reported her missing after she didn’t return her calls. Police guessed that with no signs of foul play, she likely just picked up and moved on someplace else. The friend, however, was pretty adamant she wouldn’t do that and insisted the cops look into the boyfriend, your boy, who was attending Stanford at the time. The case was closed a few days after they interviewed him.”
I rub my hand over my face, processing this. There was nothing in Beaufort’s background that mentioned Bailey, and I’m already conjuring up images of a sweet, naïve young woman who probably experienced horrific abuse at the hands of a guy she once loved.
“Is that it?”
“Afraid not. There was another girl. A classmate at the same prep school. Melissa St. Benedict. Other kids reported Melissa and Beaufort were dating up until she was found at the bottom of a canyon with a broken neck. Beaufort denied being anything more than friends and any involvement in her death. Case was closed. Accidental death. My bet, from what I’ve learned about the guy these past few days, is that he’s a possessive narcissist with a bad temper who, thanks to his money and influence, has never had to answer to anyone or anything.”
