Without Fear - Reese Knightley Page 0,19

cheeks, he reluctantly let go.

Macy’s lips pursed as he stepped back and his head tipped to gaze at him.

“We need to talk,” Macy said.

Not right now! He swallowed the groan of frustration and instead nodded.

Macy turned away from the forgotten blue jeans on the floor and toward the closet. He shrugged into a dark blue robe before tying the sash.

It left Logan feeling bereft when that toned body and the lacy boy shorts were blocked from view.

Adjusting his own trunks, he trailed after Macy when the young man walked out of the room.

Macy

Cutting the kiss short had been the right thing to do.

Sleeping with Logan was on his list of top ten things, but making love before Logan knew everything wasn’t a good idea. Sure, he’d had it all planned out to dupe the guy with his stellar distraction techniques, but the thought of tricking Logan wasn’t sitting well.

Nix that plan. He would create a new one, one grounded in honesty.

Why don’t you just break it off? It’s for the best for everyone. He hated his voice of reason because sometimes, it made the most sense.

It took all his willpower not to turn around and climb Logan like a tree. Sneaking his hands inside his robe, he pressed down on his lace-covered cock and silently told it to behave.

Making it to the couch, he plopped down on one end and swept his arm out to the other side.

Logan gave a half smirk and sprawled on the middle cushion. It dipped and Macy squeaked when he slid toward one hard muscled thigh.

Glowering at the trickster, he lifted his legs and sat cross legged to better balance.

“We shouldn’t get involved.” He chewed on his lip and swept a look at Logan from beneath his lashes.

“It’s too late for that,” Logan responded. A line etched between the man’s dark brows. Although a bit on the serious side, Logan smiled often when they were together, but over the past few hours, he’d seen nothing of that smile. That’s another reason to break this off before it gets serious, the stinking voice of reason cautioned. But again, he shoved the thought away. He didn’t want to break things off with Logan.

“Who’s Mercedes Giles?” Logan broke into the war he had going on inside.

He took a deep breath. “That’s my given name. Macy is a nickname from birth.”

“So why go by Finch?”

“That was my mother’s idea.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “Explain.”

“Just before I started twelfth grade, my mom left my stepfather and moved us to Crumpet, Washington. She changed our name to Finch and we lived there until I graduated.”

“She changed your name to hide from your stepfather.” It was a statement, not a question, and Macy nodded.

“Yeah. My stepfather is a nasty piece of work.”

“What’s his name?”

Macy blew out a long breath and clamped his lips together.

“Okay, let me ask you this,” Logan calmly said. “Does your stepfather have anything to do with the video of the murder?”

His mouth dried up at the accuracy of Logan’s guess. He should have known he couldn’t keep secrets from someone in the security business. Logan was trained to read between the lines and was known for being the best in his field. Macy knew it because he’d done a background check.

“Tell me his name.”

“Tony Siegel.”

“The Tony Siegel that broke out of federal prison?” Logan’s face grew hard, his eyes intense.

Of course, Logan had to follow the news. Macy swallowed and nodded. “I’m supposed to testify. My video will be the nail in his coffin. I came to Crumpet after he was denied bail. Even though he was locked up, I didn’t want to take any chances, so I took back my Finch name and laid low.”

“Siegel never knew you by Finch?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

He chewed on his lip. “I’m pretty sure.”

“I think somehow he found out. Those two goons showing up at my brother’s place are proof that Siegel probably knows you’re Mercedes Giles.”

“We can’t be positive.” Grasping at straws, he shook his head and plucked at the material of his robe.

“Who else besides the people in Crumpet know you as Macy Finch?”

“Sam, and a US Marshal, and an FBI Assistant Director.” He looked down at his hands. When the silence went on, he glanced up.

“US Marshals and the FBI Assistant Director,” Logan repeated as if he needed to make sure.

“Mhmm.” He kept his response short.

“Anyone else?” Logan probed.

He squeezed his fists.

“Frank.”

“Who’s Frank?”

“He’s my part—I mean an FBI agent.”

“He’s your part, as in partner?” Logan didn’t miss a damned thing.

Macy clenched

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