Page 47 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“He seems the type, yes.”

I continue forward, half expecting Logan to ease back and bolt at the first opportunity, but he moves forward with me instead, walking side-by-side with me down the sidewalk, his arm casually brushing against mine as we go.

“I was raised in a cult, too,” he says.

I blink in surprise. “What? No way.”

“Well, not technically, I suppose.” He shrugs. “Army brat.”

“Oh.” I laugh. “In some ways, that qualifies, too.”

“Lived on military bases my whole life. Never allowed to go anywhere.Yes, sir. No, sir.”He snorts. “Felt like I was being groomed the whole time.”

“Me, too,” I murmur.

“But infinitely easier to escape from in the end, I imagine. All it took was telling my father I wasn’t enlisting. The next morning, he tossed a duffel bag and a train ticket at my feet. Told me to get out.”

“And your mother?” I ask, curious.

“She watched.”

I nod. “Sounds familiar.”

“But it wasn’t all bad!” he adds. “That train ticket led me to New York City. I met Goldie three days later.”

“That’s good!”

“That’sfate,”he says. “Defying my birthright put me exactly where I was meant to be. Same as you.”

“Criminal Records,” I say in agreement.

“No.” He scoffs. “Tonight. Here. On stage with The Electrics.”

“That wasn’t fate, Logan,” I say. “That was you pulling me up there when you knew I couldn’t say no.”

“I emphatically disagree.” He notices my glare. “With the first part. The second part is accurate. We should do it again.”

“No.”

“Why not? You had fun. You said it was fun.”

“Itwasfun,” I agree. “Doesn’t mean we should make a habit of it.”

“Why not?” he asks, sounding… genuinely disappointed.

I chortle as I turn us onto my street. “Our bands are rivals,” I remind him.

“Right. Butwe’refriends. I thought we cleared that part up already.”

I arch a brow. “What are you really doing here, Logan?”

He arches one right back. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” I say, taking another breath to steady myself because I can already feel that phantom tug, that lingering urge to fall right into his eyes. “What are you really doing in Vegas?”

“You think I’ve been less than truthful?” he asks.

“I think I’d be foolish not to assume a degree of foul play here.”

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