Logan decided not to lecture Wagner about following every lead no matter how small. It would only send a bad message that Logan micromanaged his team. That was the last thing he needed when he was trying to gain their cooperation. “Okay, I’m out of here. You have my cell, right?”
“Yes,” Wagner said, appearing relieved Logan was leaving.
He headed for the door, stopping only to grab the evidence bag for Faith’s clothing. He hated leaving the crime scene, but he believed Skyler was the key to cracking this ongoing investigation. As a trained officer, she’d likely noticed things during the robbery she didn’t even know she’d seen. He would do his best to bring the memories to the surface before they had time to fade. Conducting the interview immediately was crucial.
He stepped outside and spotted Skyler sitting on the gurney, her face raised to the sun, the rich red highlights in her hair glinting in the warm rays. She’d replaced her frilly blouse with a faded scrub top, one pigtail stuck inside as if she’d dressed in a hurry. Despite a white bandage circling her head and baggy scrubs, she could still get his heart rate going.
As she lay on the gurney earlier, he’d noticed her wearing the same pair of jeans she’d loved when they were together. Except in the passing of time, she’d sewn colorful patches on them.
Just thinking about her free-spirited attire made him shake his head. The two of them were so different. He was a by-the-rules kind of guy, while she was easygoing, and yet they’d seemed almost perfect together.
Skyler suddenly looked at him. Her eyes communicated everything he knew she must be feeling—fear, anger, frustration.
A strong impulse to pull her into his arms, to shelter her from anything bad that might happen, had him taking a step back.
Don’t go there, man.
She scooted to the edge of the gurney and planted a hand on her hip, a saucy expression on her face as her gaze settled on him. “You gonna stand there and stare at me or give me a ride?”
Right, like even if he wanted to hold her, she’d let him. She didn’t accept help willingly. Outspoken and stubborn a good bit of the time, she stood on her own two feet. He hadn’t forgotten that part of her personality. Not with the earful she’d given him when he’d decided to take the Chicago transfer. That he would never forget.
But he couldn’t let it get in the way. Neither of them could. He needed her help to find the bank robber who would make Logan’s career. And if his suspicions were correct, she needed him to keep her safe when Marty chose to attack.
Logan took ground-eating strides toward Skyler. She should look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He still infuriated her, but there was no denying he was something to look at—his chin wide and chiseled at hard angles, black hair thick and wavy. But it was those steely-blue eyes that had always gotten to her.
Intense. Dark. Maybe brooding at times.
So what? She couldn’t stop the attraction, but she could stop herself from reacting to it and doing something stupid.
She fisted her hands, letting her nails bite into the sensitive flesh.
“Ready to go?” His mouth turned up in a lazy smile that was in direct contrast to his sharp focus, sending her pulse beating faster.
Disgusted with her betraying emotions, she pushed off the gurney faster than she should have and nearly lost her balance. She grabbed the wall to remain upright. She waited for the wooziness to pass, and caught sight of small dark stains dotting the alley. Marty’s blood?
The feel and taste of his gun in her mouth came roaring back, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the ensuing panic. She wouldn’t lose it now. Not here. Not in front of other law enforcement officers and certainly not in front of Logan.
“You actually hit Marty?” she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and fear.
“Looks like I grazed him. My team is getting a bulletin out to local E.R.s and urgent care clinics in case he seeks medical attention.” His phone rang, drawing his attention. He frowned at the screen, his deep scowl letting her know something was wrong.
“Excuse me a minute.” He stepped out of earshot and paced. Back and forth. Over and over, quick steps across the alley and back, his hands plunged into his hair.
Seemed as if some things didn’t change. He was still so driven to succeed he rarely stood still. It had taken her a year to get him to let his guard down and fully relax around her. He’d obviously returned to his breakneck pace in Chicago. She was sure he’d burn out long before he aged out of the bureau.
He stowed his phone, that frown deepening even more as he rejoined her. “We can go now.”
She knew better than to ask about his call and marched toward the end of the alley. The hum of conversation from bystanders greeted her before she spotted them crowding behind wooden barriers. They pointed at her, and she heard cameras clicking. Looky-loos. She should’ve expected them, but she’d let her thoughts of Logan distract her. They were searching for anything sensational to grasp on to from the robbery. Maybe they’d tweet about it or post pictures on Facebook.
The last thing she needed today.
She slowly lowered her head and pushed forward to get out of the limelight as quickly as possible. Black wingtip shoes planted themselves in her path, forcing her to stop. She raised her head to find a male dressed in khakis, a white button-down shirt and a tie decorated with blindingly bright Christmas ornaments. He shoved a microphone into her face.
“Paul Parsons, News Channel Four. We heard that you were injured in the robbery, Deputy Brennan.”
“I’m fine.” Skyler tried to sidestep him, but he jumped in front of her.
“Are you working with the FBI to bring Clyde in?” Excitement lifted his tone.
Logan stepped forward. “Deputy Brennan’s assisting us, as are all of the witnesses. Now if you’ll excuse us, she needs to get to the E.R. to have her injury checked out.” Logan shouldered the reporter out of Skyler’s way and his hand came to rest on her back, urging her toward the crowd. This wasn’t the time to argue against his touch, so she allowed it and hurried ahead.
“You heard it on our station first,” Parsons said in his reporter’s tone. “Portland’s own Deputy Skyler Brennan will be working with the FBI on the Bonnie and Clyde investigation.”
“Like that’s newsworthy,” Skyler mumbled and gingerly climbed over the barrier.
“Deputy Brennan, wait, please.” Parsons’s voice came from behind her.
Skyler groaned. Even if she could dredge up the energy to bolt away from him, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford to antagonize the press when she was still seeking positive publicity for the shelter’s upcoming Christmas party. She turned slowly to keep the world from spinning.
Parsons rushed up to her again, the microphone now shoved in his pocket. “I’d really like to do an exclusive interview with you. People want feel-good stories this time of year, and we could combine your work for the shelter with the way you kept the hostages safe. You know, a local hero kind of thing.”
She was far from a hero, but the shelter could use as much publicity as possible to raise awareness. Still, connecting the shelter to a violent bank robbery wouldn’t be a good idea. “I really—”
“This isn’t the time for this discussion,” Logan barged in. “She needs to see a doctor.” Before Parsons could respond, Logan parted the crowd with one hand and urged her forward with the other.
She allowed him to direct