Aunt Marta demanded to know. This time her disdain was for the intruder. She usually considered her brother-in-law’s children intruders, too, even though they were blood.
“He’s wanted,” Stacy said suddenly. She’d realized what she had to do back at the cemetery, maybe even before the gunshots had rang out. But in this moment, she made the quick decision that she was actually going to go through with it. “I want him here...”
Curving her lips into a big smile, she crossed the room to where he stood. His long body was tense. His face tight, he looked stunned, as if he’d been shot again—and that was just from what she’d said. She had no idea how he would react to what she was about to do. Maybe he would stop her before she could even act, like he had when she’d tried to slap him. But he just stood there when she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Why hadn’t he stopped her? Why hadn’t he caught her arms and pushed her away? He stared down at her, his blue eyes intense and watchful as he waited for her next move.
Could she...?
Bracing herself for what she had to do, she drew in a deep breath. Then she rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his hard-looking lips. But they weren’t hard. They were surprisingly pliant and sensual and fuller than they looked in the tight line of disapproval into which they were usually drawn.
Now she was the one who was stunned—because he kissed her back. He clamped one arm, probably his uninjured one, around her back and pulled her tightly against him. Then he parted her lips and deepened the kiss.
Noise erupted in the room. Gasps. Shouts. Even a scream. But she could barely hear them for the blood rushing through her head, roaring in her ears. Her pulse pounded madly with adrenaline and attraction. Had it been so long since she’d been kissed that any man could affect her like this? It couldn’t be just because it was Logan. She couldn’t want a man that she hated as much as this one.
But no man had ever kissed her like he was kissing her—with so much passion and desire that her knees weakened and her head swam and she completely forgot why she’d kissed him in the first place.
When he pulled back, she was panting for breath. Against her lips, he murmured, “What the hell are you up to?”
For a moment she couldn’t remember. Then it came back to her—the plan, his mother’s outrageous plan.
She whispered back, “I’m saving your life.” She turned toward her stunned family and announced, “Logan Payne is my fiancé. We’re getting married.”
Chapter Four
Logan’s heart pounded so hard that it was the only sound in the sudden silence that had fallen after Stacy’s insane announcement. He knew his mother had initially proposed this crazy engagement, but he hadn’t expected that Stacy would ever agree to it. She hated him.
But he hadn’t tasted that hatred on her lips when she’d kissed him so convincingly that even he had forgotten it wasn’t real. He knew that she didn’t really want him; she just didn’t want her brothers going to prison for killing him. She was protecting Milek and Garek—not Logan.
So then she couldn’t be behind the attempts on his life. Or maybe she had been, but his mother’s idea had convinced Stacy to change her plan for revenge to one for marriage. But then marrying him might be more vengeful than killing him.
Not that he was going to fall in with his mother’s crazy plan. He wasn’t about to get coerced into marriage with a woman he couldn’t...
Stand? More like resist. Why had he kissed her back? To punish her for the game she was playing? He’d like to think that but he had enjoyed it too damn much. Her mouth was so sweet and so damn sexy when it moved over his.
“What the hell is going on?” one of her brothers, his face flushed either with alcohol or temper, demanded to know. “Just a couple of hours ago you were mad at him for crashing Dad’s funeral and now you’re engaged?”
Her other brother’s eyes narrowed, he glared at Logan. “He must be threatening her.”
“He saved my life at the cemetery,” she said. “He took a bullet for me.”
He was pretty sure that bullet had been meant for him and that one of her brothers had fired it. And that was the only reason he was refraining from calling her on her lie. As her fake fiancé, he had access to her family—hopefully enough access to gather evidence. Like the damn gun they kept firing at him...
She continued, “It was all very sudden.”
“It’s all B.S.,” he whispered back at her.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Hard. And he was surprised again that she had calluses on her small hands. What did she do for a living or for fun that had produced such calluses?
They were engaged and yet he hardly knew Stacy Kozminski.
“I’m surprised myself at the feelings I have for—” her throat moved, as if she were choking on his name or maybe just on her lie “—Logan.”
Despite that kiss, he doubted her feelings had changed. She still hated him.
One of her brothers—Garek—voiced his sentiment. “You hate his guts, Stace.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“You’ve said over and over that you hate his guts,” Garek persisted. “Why are you lying about it now? What’s he got on you?”
What did he think Logan could have on her? Proof that she and her brothers were responsible for the shootings? He hoped like hell he had it, then he could call her on her lie and end this nonsense. Then he could call the police...
“My gratitude,” she said. “He saved my life.” She turned toward him and glanced up. Maybe her gaze was supposed to be adoring, but she just looked miserable. “He’s my hero.”
Garek snorted. “And that just erases everything else he’s done to our father?”
Her snotty aunt added, “To our family? You’re betraying your father. Your uncle. Your brothers...”
Ignoring her aunt, she replied to her brother only, “I understand why he’s done what he has.”
“I don’t understand what you think you’re doing,” Logan murmured. Her family was never going to buy that she’d had such a drastic change of heart over him.
“If the situation was reversed,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “we would have done the same. Or more...”
“He killed our father,” Milek said, his words slurred. He had definitely been drinking. “And you’re rewarding him for it.”
“Logan did not kill Dad,” Stacy defended him. “Some gang member did.”
“He wouldn’t have had the chance if your boyfriend—”
“Fiancé,” she corrected her brother. “And stop. Just stop...all of it.” She turned toward Logan. “It’s been a long day. Please, take me home.”
Did
