“Either I stay here with you, or I find somewhere else to stay in town. Your choice,” she says firmly, a hint of anger in her tone.
“Lana, I just want to keep—”
“There’s no such thing as safe, Logan,” she says on a soft breath. “No such thing.”
I’m too out of it to continue arguing, and my eyes shut without my permission. I’ll argue tomorrow.
Chapter 7
My life is a struggle.
—Voltaire
LANA
Leonard’s eyes are on me, just as they have been since last night. He watches me make two cups of coffee, and he watches me fix the cups with cream.
“You want a cup?” I ask the watcher.
“I’ve already made some, but thanks for the offer.”
At first I thought he was suspicious, then he left me alone in the room with Logan and also left me with a gun. Then I thought he was a perv, but he turned away abruptly when he walked in the room this morning to check on Logan and saw me in my panties.
So I don’t know why he’s watching.
Unless I’m just that fucking interesting.
“So you and Logan are pretty serious, yeah?” he asks, lifting the cup of coffee he’s drinking. I’m not sure why he’s not crashing. The sun has just peeked out, and he’s been up all night.
“I think so. At least, I’m serious.”
“You don’t think he is?”
I need to learn when to shut up.
“I think he is,” I say with a tight smile as I turn to face Mr. Watch Me.
He runs a finger over his lips in a pensive manner. “Any family in the DC area?”
I shake my head and return to my task, stirring both coffees.
“Any family at all?”
I shake my head again.
“This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“No. As an extremely private person, I love talking to a stranger about my past first thing in the morning after my boyfriend was attacked in a town full of weak and evil people,” I state dryly, holding his gaze.
His eyes widen marginally. “Sorry. Just making conversation. None of us have great conversational skills. Occupational hazard.”
I shrug it off. “Logan was the same when we first met.”
“He stopped pressing for your past? As I said, it’s an occupational hazard.”
Have I mentioned I hate nosy people?
“I told him the important parts. Not everyone enjoys talking about the past,” I say with another shrug. “I’ve told him more than anyone in years. But he doesn’t push for more than I give. It’s one of the things I love about him.”