Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

T he county jail smells of desperation.

And stale coffee.

My heart pounds as I scan the grim, unfriendly faces who fill the pens on the other side of the reception desk. Cops who have picked up my father countless times for violent behavior.

Cops who then released him back to our house.

They didn’t care about him then.

And they wouldn’t care now, if not for Kyle and his influential family.

I long for Logan’s familiar chiseled features. Worry churns in my gut seeing him in a place like this, caged and alone, surrounded by people who don’t give a shit.

The receptionist gives me a glare when I give her my name, but she reluctantly calls someone in the back. I expect some low-level deputy. Instead it’s the sheriff himself who comes.

I can tell why he wanted to see me.

He doesn’t even bother to hide his smugness.

“Well, if it isn’t Sienna Mae Cole,” he drawls, his tone dripping with derision. “I thought the town got rid of you. Guess you came back. Like a tick you can’t get rid of.”

As if he doesn’t know exactly whose trunk I came in on.

“Spare me the bullshit.” My pulse races, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. “I’m here to see Logan Whitmere. And you can’t legally stop me.”

He steps closer, the smell of tobacco and cheap aftershave making my stomach churn. “You know, it’s only a matter of time before he’s convicted. Should start thinking about moving on. I might be willing to overlook that loose pussy of yours and give you a ride.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “You will never touch me.”

“Oh? You’re so sure about that?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “I bet you learned some wild moves out there in the circus. Always took after your mother, didn’t you?”

I manage not to flinch. This is an old wound. “You wish you knew.”

His laugh is a cold, sharp sound that cuts through me. “I know I know all about you and the Cole family. Hard to forget. This town don’t forget, matter of fact. And it certainly doesn’t forgive.”

“Fuck you.” My voice shakes despite my efforts.

He straightens and adjusts his belt, lips twisted in contemptuous amusement. “The evidence is stacking up against him. You won’t be proud much longer.”

I glare at him, every muscle in my body taut with anger and frustration. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching people suffer.”

His smirk widens. “People like you and Logan? Yeah, it’s kinda satisfying seeing the freaks of the world get what’s coming.”

“You’re the freak.”

“And you’re the town slut.” He turns away from me with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Fucking around with the circus didn’t change that none. Enjoy your visit while you can.”

He nods toward a young man in uniform who hurries over to escort me back. My heart pounds in my chest as I turn away from the sheriff, which feels like turning away from a wild animal who’s starving. As if I might get a bite taken out of me.

Town slut.

That’s what they call me here. As if that means anything. As if a single one of them ever got me into bed with them. They wish. They wish and wish so hard it turns into violence. I don’t know how that works exactly, what dark alchemy they use, but God is it effective.

The deputy leads me back, past the bullpen, past the offices.

Toward the single jail cell.

I’ve taken this walk before, though it’s been a long time.

My mother used to come and bail out my father. I trailed after her as a five-year-old. My father would stumble out of the backroom jail cells, stinking of liquor and piss.

Then when I got older, they stopped doing the whole bail thing.

We couldn’t afford it anymore, and they didn’t want to keep him any more than we wanted to bring him home. So they started letting him walk it off on his way home.

The deputy unlocks the heavy metal door leading to the county’s singular jail cell. A clang of solid metal door echoes through the small space, and I step inside, fighting to keep my composure. The cell comes into view—metal bars stark against the dim light—and there he is: Logan, looking more weary than I’ve ever seen him.

His tall frame leans back on a metal stool, shoulders bowed under the weight of his new reality, eyes closed. He doesn’t even look up, though he must have heard the door open.

“Logan…” My voice is barely above a whisper.

His gaze snaps to me, dark hazel eyes sharp despite his posture. Even rumpled and unshaven, his raw masculine beauty steals my breath.

He stands slowly, moving closer to the bars. “Sunset.”

I rush forward, almost tripping in my haste to reach him.

My chest tightens at the familiar nickname. “Are you okay?”

His fingers twitch like he wants to touch me, but he drops his hands. Purple shadows underscore his eyes. “I’m fine. This isn’t my first night in a place like this. Won’t be the last.”

I put my hand toward the bars, reaching through them.

The officer clears his throat. “You can’t touch them, miss. For safety reasons.”

My eyes narrow. “He isn’t going to hurt me.”

The officer looks a little sheepish but also resolute. “It’s protocol.”

Protocol. I long to tell him how much pain and suffering their protocol caused my mother through the years. Doesn’t matter, though.

I unclench my hands from the metal bars and take a step back.

“Hey,” Logan says, pulling my attention back. “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” A brittle laugh. “You’re locked up like an animal. Kyle should be the one inside there, if anything. Of course I’m going to worry.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips. “I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The words ring false. I shake my head, dark hair falling in my face. He’s always trying to protect me, even now. But I see the cracks in his calm fa?ade, the tension coiled in his broad shoulders. The shadows that linger in his beautiful green eyes.

I lower my voice. “Listen to me. I’m going to figure this out.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, stormy eyes holding mine. For a heartbeat, his walls crumble and I glimpse the lost, broken boy within the hardened man, the one who’s struggling the most inside this cage.

Then he blinks, and it’s gone, replaced by determination.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” he says.

“Of course I should.” First my mother and now him. As if I could be inconstant. As if there’s even a choice. “Would you leave me in jail alone if it were reversed?”

He shakes his head, swearing. “It isn’t the same.”

“You’re right. It’s worse.”

He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t work. The storm inside him rages just beneath the surface. “The circus’s lawyer is already on this. He’s good—one of the best in the country. Landed this morning. He’s already working on my defense.”

I want to trust that, but seeing him here, locked up like an animal, it’s hard to hold on to that hope. “Logan—” I start, but he cuts me off with a hard look.

“You need to get out of here. You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about me. Go back to the circus, take care of Tricks, and everything will be fine.”

Frustration makes my throat tighten. “Logan.”

“Don’t visit me again.”

His words sting, even though I know he means well. He always tries to protect me, but this time it feels like he’s pushing me away. “You really think I can just go back and pretend?”

“Yes,” he says, his gaze locking on to mine with an intensity that makes my heart ache. “I need you to be strong. If that means pretending you never met me, then so be it.”

I swallow hard, fighting back tears. “You’re losing hope.”

“The lawyer will handle this,” he says, a hint of desperation seeping into his words despite his calm fa?ade. “And I’m fine in here. I’ve been through worse.”

“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of the accommodations.”

“Promise me,” he says, eyes boring into mine. “Promise you won’t come back here.”

Why the hell is he pushing this? Does he think I’m going to judge him for the scruff on his jaw or the rumpled state of his clothes? Does he think I’m going to look down on him for protecting me? That’s when I realize it’s about more than that.

Those things are surface level.

This goes far deeper.

“Please,” he adds softly.

“You’re not your father.”

A muscle pulsing in his jaw. “This isn’t about him,” he mutters.

I reach through the bars as far as I can, my fingertips brushing against the cold metal, ignoring the deputy who thankfully has started looking at his phone. “Isn’t it? He was locked up. By bars, by prejudice. By his shame. This must feel like the same thing.”

Logan’s gaze hardens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a better man than he ever was. He was a victim of his circumstance.”

“And what am I?” he says, the bitterness in his voice like a slap. “The ringmaster of the toilet bowl? The owner of the cot? The valiant champion of the fucking jail cell?”

“You’re a fighter. So fight this.” Please.

He steps back, breaking our tenuous connection through the bars. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple.” I’m not above pleading. “You’ve spent your life running from his shadow, but you’ve never been him. You’re not a monster.”

He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I know that.”

I grip the bars tighter, desperation clawing at me from the inside out. “Do you? Because right now, it feels like you’re giving up.”

Logan’s shoulders slump slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of him. “I’m not giving up. I’m trying to protect you.”

My heart aches. “And look what that got you?”

His gaze sharpens. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m not going to promise that I won’t come back, because I am. Again and again, until you’re out of there. Whatever it takes. But you’re going to make me a promise.” I blink back tears. “Promise me you won’t let this place break you. Promise me you’ll fight.”

The hard emerald gaze holds mine.

An endless heartbeat of no, I can’t, it’s already happening.

Neither of us will get the promises we want today.

The young officer clears his throat.

Reluctantly, I step back. “I’ll come back soon.”

Logan gives a short shake of his head, his jaw clenched tight, a muscle twitching beneath the surface. Don’t come, it says. To hell with that, my raised eyebrow says in return.

I follow the young officer back to the reception area, shoulders slumped, feet heavy. The sheriff’s smug face catches my eye. He stands triumphantly, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his thin lips. The bastard thinks he’s already won, that Logan’s fate is sealed.

Rage simmers beneath my skin.

The stale air clings to my skin, the weight of this place threatening to suffocate me. I quicken my pace, desperate to escape the oppressive walls. Bursting through the exit, I gulp in the fresh air, my lungs expanding with a shuddering breath.

The sun’s rays burn too bright, too cheerful for the shadows inside me.

Maisie stands on the curb, holding Tricks.

My eyebrows rise when I see who’s joined her.

Wolfgang’s black jeans and a black T-shirt hug a thickly muscled body. His sharp gaze is responsible for the elaborate, scary-accurate knife throws that entertain Cirque des Miroirs’ audience. He has an air of expecting trouble, as if he’s ready for anything.

“Hi, Wolfgang. I was just going to come look for you.”

“I’m here to take you back home,” he says in his gravelly voice.

Maisie frowns. “I told him I’m the one bringing you home.”

“And I told you to leave,” Wolfgang says to her, his tone curt. Very curt.

Despite his imposing size, he’s usually nicer than that.

And Maisie has lost her usual aplomb.

Her pretty face flushes pink. “And I told you not to interfere.”

“Logan asked me to keep an eye on Sienna. And her nosy little friend.”

Maisie’s mouth drops open, but she doesn’t seem particularly pissed at the man inside the jail. It’s more like she’s mad at Wolfgang. And it doesn’t sound like something Logan would say. No, it seems like Wolfgang just said that to goad her.

His tall frame looms over her, but she doesn’t back down.

“Nosy?” she says. “The only nosy thing here is you trying to boss me around.”

If I didn’t know better, I would think it was flirting.

I glance back at the imposing building one last time, determination burning in my chest. I will do whatever it takes to bring him back where he belongs—with me.

I turn back to my friends from different worlds. “I’m not going back home. I need to speak with the lawyer who’s working on Logan’s defense.”

Wolfgang’s expression softens slightly, which isn’t saying much. “He wants to ask you some questions, but he can come to your mother’s house.”

“I’d rather go to him. Where is he? With the circus?”

“Yes. I suppose I could take you, but you shouldn’t come to the jail again. I can pass on any messages. It’s not safe for you here. I don’t trust that sheriff.”

“To hell with that.”

Maisie rolls her eyes. “See? Nosy. Controlling. Bossy.”

I can’t help a small laugh at my friend. “Maisie.”

She huffs. “Fine, but you don’t need babysitting. And neither do I.”

Wolfgang narrows his eyes at my best friend. “No? You’re about as tall as a toddler. And having a little tantrum, too. So I’d say you could use all the protection you can get.”

Oh dear. Maisie’s blue eyes spark with venom.

This is going to get ugly.

Or it would, if I had time to enjoy the show.

“Maisie,” I say, catching her before she explodes in what would undoubtedly be the most adorable tirade in history. “I really need to talk to this lawyer. You can destroy Wolfgang later, okay?”