Talking it Out

"Explain. Now." I fix Logan with a steely glare, my patience wearing thin.

Logan's jaw clenches. "There's only so much I can say."

"Try harder." I cross my arms, acutely aware of my nakedness but refusing to let it diminish my determination. "Let's start simple. Are you rich?"

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. "My family is."

The way he says it, like he's distancing himself, piques my curiosity. But I file that away for later. "Okay, fine. Then tell me this: why me? Of all the people at work, why approach me about those murder cases?"

Logan's gaze drops, his fingers tracing patterns on the rumpled sheets. "Your name was given to me. As someone to... keep an eye on."

Ice floods my veins. "What?"

His eyes snap back to mine, earnest and pleading. "I swear, I had no idea who you were that night at the bar. None."