He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

back.
    “No, leave me alone.” She kicked back with her heel, striking her attacker’s shin. A pained grunt sounded behind her. A powerful arm circled her waist and pulled her back against a solid chest.
    “Amanda, it’s Logan,” a deep voice whispered next to her ear. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
    Logan. It was Logan. Her panic drained and she collapsed against him, inhaling his comforting, familiar scent as her labored lungs struggled for air.
    He turned her in his arms and gently pressed her head against his chest while he whispered soothing words to her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and clung to him, reveling in the feel of his strong arms around her. She was safe. With Logan she was safe . The dark shadows began to recede. The dull roar in her ears faded. Sounds returned. Phones ringing. Papers shuffling.
    “Back to your desks, everybody,” Detective Riley’s voice called out. “There’s nothing to see.”
    Amanda’s eyes shot open. She gasped and shrank back from the crowd of detectives and uniformed policemen watching her from a few feet away. Logan’s arms tightened around her.
    The young policeman who’d led her to the conference room stared at her, his eyes wide, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast against his pale face. Riley shoved him to get him moving and ushered the other men back into the squad room.
    Amanda squeezed her eyes shut again, her face flushing with heat. “Can you get me out of here, please?” she whispered miserably.
    “Do you want me to carry you?”
    Carry her? He sounded serious, as if he was about to lift her up in his arms in front of the entire police department. Her face flushed even more as she shoved out of his arms and took a step back. “Don’t you dare. I’m embarrassed enough already.”
    He tilted her chin up and leaned down, his brows drawn together in a hard line. “You’ve been through hell and back, endured more than most people could ever imagine. You don’t owe anyone any explanations and you sure as hell shouldn’t feel embarrassed.”
    His declaration of support had her throat closing up. It had been so long since anyone had shown any concern about her. She offered him a wobbly smile. Her smile faded as she noticed a man in a dark suit standing a few feet away, studying both of them. She instinctively tucked herself closer to Logan.
    Logan squeezed her shoulders. “This is Special Agent Pierce Buchanan,” he said. “He’s the FBI agent I told you about.”
    Pierce, who looked strikingly similar to Logan, held out his hand and offered her a reassuring smile.
    “Amanda Stockton,” she said, as she reluctantly shook his hand. The feel of his strong fingers clasping hers sent a tremor of dread through her. She snatched her hand away, then flushed with embarrassment and leaned back against Logan. Both of these men towered over her. Both of them were powerfully built. But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt completely safe with Logan. His size didn’t make her uncomfortable like the FBI agent’s did.
    “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Stockton,” Pierce said, glancing from her to Logan, obviously wondering if there was something going on between them. “I apologize that you saw those photographs,” he continued. “They were never intended to be seen by civilians.”
    At the mention of the pictures, she swallowed against the bile rising in her throat.
    Logan’s deep voice sounded next to her ear as he leaned down behind her. “I’ll take you home.”
    Her heart clutched in her chest at the way he kept his arm around her, unfazed by what the agent might think of him. Even though she hadn’t told Logan that she was here to let him interview her, he must have figured it out. And yet, he was willing to give up his chance to ask her questions. He was more concerned with making sure she was okay.
    The temptation to take the comfort he offered and ignore her responsibilities was nearly overwhelming. But the reprieve would only be temporary. The guilt that had haunted her since Monday morning when he’d first asked her to come to the station would dig its tentacles into her again, forcing her to come back. And since she had no intention of ever coming back after today, she needed to face her fears and get this ordeal over with.
    “No, I’m okay.” Her voice sounded shaky and weak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice clear and strong this time. She stepped away from