Newly named head of Quinn Security Investigations, retired detective Logan Jeffries believes in law and order. Everything should have its place. A personal life should never interfere with work. Relationships should have their own rules too. Logan lives by his own laws -- five precisely. As long as he follows them, all is right in his regimented world.
Nate Jordan wishes he could say no when assigned to work with Logan. Nate has never forgotten Logan's kindness the night they met. In the three years since, his crush has only grown. This partnership will surely end in disaster, but Nate cannot walk away.
Quickly, Logan and Nate delve into the search for a missing socialite. Nothing else should occupy Logan's thoughts. The only problem? Nate is determined and sweet, and working with him awakens Logan's deepest desires. Logan won't break his laws, though. Not even for the gentlest, sexiest man in the world.
Meanwhile, Nate is falling harder and faster for Logan every day they're together. The craziest damn thing is he thinks he senses attraction under Logan's controlled facade. Nate will have to break every one of Logan's laws to capture the man of his dreams.
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Loose Id, LLC
February 22, 2011
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Excerpt from Breaking Logan's Laws by Cameron Dane
Three years ago
Nate Jordan finished shaving the last of the stubble from his jaw, studied his pathetic visage in the mirror, and cursed the razor in his hand.
The dark patches of purple around his eye, down his cheek, and across his jaw had started turning yellow and puke green around the edges, indicating the next stage in the healing process. Rather than focus on that, Nate stared at his reflection, and his stomach churned violently.
You got rid of the one thing covering some of it up.
Seeing the result of his absolute stupidity in all its glory made Nate sick in more ways than one. He couldn't help remembering the split second of euphoric joy that had lifted him into the clouds when he'd thought he read attraction in his best friend Grady's beautiful blue eyes. Then, with one touch of his lips to Grady's, horror and terror became Nate's world. Fists flew at his face and rained blows all over his body, leaving him bloody, and bruising him black-and-blue. He'd thought Grady cared about him, but Grady's actions had proven Nate terribly wrong.
You deserved it. You don't kiss another man out of the blue. No matter how much you thought it looked like he wanted it.
Wetness blurred Nate's vision. He spun away from the mirror, hating the weakness, and then cursed the fast move as stiffness and soreness throbbed through his bruised body. His heart hurt as much as his body did, reminding him he had lost so much more than his best friend in the last few days.
Stop it! Quit being a pussy. Nate exited the bathroom into an unfamiliar apartment that looked out over a city he didn't know.
One good thing had come from his beating and subsequent need to leave Minnesota. A new life in Chicago. With a sister he hadn't spoken to in over a decade.
Kasey. Nate picked up the old stack of letters tied in ribbon, his chest burning with new tightness. I never knew she still loved me when she ran away all those years ago.
Shit, Nate had to laugh. Because he'd thought Kasey had abandoned their family, he'd deliberately not searched for information about her. Until a few days ago--when his mother had finally shared the letters his sister had written to him over the years--he'd had no idea Kasey had become a private investigator, now co-owned a prestigious security firm, and had even married.
Nate wandered around her husband Canin's apartment, amazed a guy he'd never even met until yesterday now allowed him to temporarily live in his place. Canin treated Nate, a total stranger, decently. Just because.
Better than your own father did.
Pulling up short, Nate swore at himself for slipping to a place of self-pity. The past didn't matter anymore. He had a roof over his head, a fucking nice one too, and he had a chance to get to know his sister again.
A heavy banging on the door suddenly reverberated through the apartment, followed by a rough masculine voice. "Get the fuck up, Quinn, and let me in! It's Logan! It's fucking cold, and I don't want to run by myself."
As Nate jogged across the apartment, he found himself biting down a smile in response to the surly stranger outside. He swung open the door, and his lips parted to say hello. With one look at the man on the other side, Nate's voice fled.
Sweet mother. His stomach flipped at the vision of masculinity before him.
"Jesus, Canin, you were supposed..." The dark-haired man in navy sweats and a snug gray sweatshirt braced his weight against the doorjamb. He narrowed his gaze, and it looked like stalks of grass invaded his irises. "You're not Canin."
It took a handful of heartbeats for Nate to swallow moisture back into his throat. "I-I'm Nate." He maintained such a death grip on the door his fingertips hurt. "Canin's brother-in-law."
The man quirked up a thick, dark brow. "Oh?"
God. Get a grip on yourself, idiot. He's just a guy.
Nate commanded his fingers to unclench. "Sorry, yeah. Kasey's my sister, but I just met Canin yesterday. I can tell by the look on your face you've never heard of me." Heat rushed to Nate's cheeks. "I'm not from here. That's probably why."
"Right. Right." Licking the edge of his lip, the guy nodded. "I forgot Canin moved into Kasey's place. I haven't gotten used to the change in his marriage status. My name is Logan Jeffries. I'm a friend of Canin's. May I come inside for a minute?" With his hand planted on the door frame, Logan leaned over the threshold. "I could use something to drink."
"Yeah, sure." Nate automatically stepped aside and allowed Logan entry. "There's not much in the kitchen right now." After shutting the door, Nate walked backward, his eyes on Logan. The man circled the open living room, pausing here and there to examine stuff on an end table or bookshelf. "I could get you a glass of water."
"That would be good," Logan replied. "May I use the bathroom?" Now at the short hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, Logan paused and looked up at Nate. "I know where it is."
"Go for it." Nate plastered a genial smile on his face. Under his breath, he added, "Don't forget to check my bag while you're back there."
Logan poked his head out from around the corner. "What was that?"
"Nothing." Nate burned with red again; he could feel it. Busying his jittery hands, he grabbed a glass and turned the tap on full blast. "Just talking to myself."
The guy barely tipped his mouth up at the edge. "Right." He kept his focus on Nate, past a point that made Nate's breathing a little uneasy. Then Logan abruptly said, "Be right back," and disappeared down the hall.
While Logan took care of business--and Nate seriously doubted that included taking a piss--Nate paced the length of the small, high-tech kitchen, mumbling to himself about having been a lot of things in his twenty-five years, well, truthfully, not many things very exciting, but nobody had ever accused him of being a squatter or a thief. This Logan person clearly thought he was.
His ears straining, Nate heard the toilet flush. When Logan reappeared, Nate stood with the man's water, the glass stretched out in offering.
Once Logan accepted it and took a drink, Nate blurted, "I haven't stolen anything. I'm allowed to be here." He rushed into the living room to grab the phone. "You can call Canin to check if you want."
"No need." Logan's even tone, after the casual way he'd cased the joint, kept Nate's nerves on high alert. "I believe you are Kasey's brother." The man took another sip of his water and then lifted the glass in Nate's direction. "Are you okay?"
"Why?" Nate asked. Then he caught his reflection in the large window behind where Logan stood. "Oh." His heart sank. Loser. He pities you. Not only had Logan's presence temporarily taken Nate's mind off his bruised face, but he'd also forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Proof of his beating screamed in reds, purples, greens, and yellows. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Logan came closer, and he barely had to dip down to put them on eye level. "I work in law enforcement; I'm a homicide detective. I can help you, Nate."
Openly studying Nate's injuries, Logan reached out and fingered his jaw. At first contact, Nate flinched and jerked away. Part of his response had been a jolt of awareness at this man's rough hand on him. But equally, Nate had flashed on a big fist slamming into his face, and his heart had jumped into his throat.
"Sorry," Nate murmured. For once, he thanked the bruising that might cover at least some of his furious blushing. "I didn't mean anything by pulling away from you."
"No, I apologize." Logan stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. "I know better than to touch someone who has been handled the way you clearly have."
"It was nothing--just a misunderstanding." Nate shifted in an attempt to shadow the bulk of the bruising on his face. Not that it mattered. His torso, back, and arms looked like a freak abstract painting too. Without running to the bedroom for a sweater, he couldn't cover any of it from Logan's knowing stare. "No need to cause any trouble."
Logan's jaw produced a visible tic. "You wouldn't be starting trouble. You'd be giving me permission to enforce the law." Nate immediately shook his head again, and Logan finished with, "Canin knows where to find me if you change your mind."
"I won't. But thank you."
"No problem." Logan set his glass on the bar on his way toward the door. "I have to get going on my run." Before the man opened the door, he reached his arms toward the ceiling in a stretch. A growl erupted, and his sweatshirt rode up to reveal a hard line of olive-colored stomach. Nate swallowed as he looked. Wow.
Logan dropped his arms, opened the door, and said, "It was good to meet you, Nate." Something Nate thought resembled a grin--it definitely had lines too hard to call a smile--briefly graced Logan's lips.
"Um..." Nate waved. "Okay." His tongue felt like cotton, and he suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands. "Bye."
Logan paused in the hallway. "And, Nate?" Logan didn't turn, and he kept his head down.
Nate snapped his gaze up from the floor. "Yeah?"
"I didn't look in your bag. I really did have to take a piss." Right before swinging the door closed, Logan added, "Take care. Bye."
Damn it. Nate stood staring at the closed door, his mouth agape. He heard every snarky thing I mumbled.
Nate wished the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole before he'd ever answered the door. Before I ever heard that rough, raw voice.
Nate didn't understand his reaction to the man. Logan wasn't even close to traditionally handsome; he possessed blunt, extreme features most would define as harsh. Nate had immediately thought of the word unforgiving the second he'd set eyes on Logan Jeffries. Right on top of that, though, Nate's physical reaction had translated into: He's so fucking...male. It radiates out of his pores.
Logan had tongue-tied Nate well beyond his normal shyness. In reality, Logan probably only stood an inch taller than Nate, but something in his wider shoulders, stance, and piercing eyes sold intimidation and sent out signals the receiver picked up and perceived as giant. Detective Logan Jeffries was a man. And Nate had reacted to it on a fundamental level he had not been able to control.
Better figure out a way to get over it. Fast.
Phantom sensations of his former best friend beating the crap out of him rushed crushing pain back into Nate's bruises and made him stumble. Shit. Grady had some stocky weight behind him, but Nate suspected if a person crossed Logan Jeffries in a way that displeased him, he could put the man in the hospital with a couple of precisely aimed punches.
With the lingering soreness from Grady's attack still so fresh, Nate vowed to put the overwhelmingly sexy detective out of his mind.
And to stay out of his way.
* * *
In the elevator, Logan jabbed the button for the lobby and ordered himself to put Nate Jordan out of his thoughts.
While in the bathroom Logan had made two quick calls, one to Canin, who hadn't answered, and one to Canin's brother, Rhone, who had. Rhone had confirmed Nate's identity for Logan. That call also cleared up Kasey and Canin's "marriage." The pair were working a job right now and could not break their covers to share the truth about the sham marriage with Nate.
Logan didn't laugh at much, but he chuckled in the privacy of the elevator. He'd heard Nate mumbling in that sweetly surly way when the younger man had thought himself alone. Truth was, if Logan hadn't gotten hold of Canin or Rhone, he damn well would have searched Nate's bag for evidence of the man's identity. Christ, the sight of it on the floor in the guest bedroom had severely tempted him anyway, just to see if he could turn up some evidence as to who the hell had beaten the shit out of the guy. Logan's heart went out to Nate while his blood simultaneously heated righteous fire through his body. Logan could tell just by looking that Nate didn't have it in him to step on a bug crawling across his floor, let alone defend himself against such a brutal thrashing. Whoever had bruised such a breathtaking body deserved an equal beating.
I wouldn't mind being the one to do it.
As soon as that thought surged through Logan, he cockblocked it and brought it screeching to a halt. He had a good thing going at home right now; he could not let his desire to help a twenty-something-year-old kid with a sweet ass and a heartbreaking story written all over his face mess it up. If Nate eventually wanted help, his "brother-in-law" was more than capable of handling it. Shit, Nate's sister could fuck the guy up for him too. Probably better than most men.
Still, as Logan pushed outside and hit the pavement for his run, the prettiest, deepest brown eyes he'd ever seen continued to haunt him.
When he got to work, Logan still couldn't get Nate Jordan out of his mind.
* * * * *
Logan reached across Canin's desk and shook the man's hand, sealing their deal.
Chuckling, Canin said, "Took a hell of a long time, you son of a bitch, but it's good to have you with us."
"Good to be here," Logan replied. He kept his hand steady, but his heart beat faster in the wake of officially becoming a part of Quinn Security.
Logan would head the investigations wing of the firm. According to Canin, a large chunk of Quinn's time of late dealt with security clientele's requests to handle personal investigations. So much so that management had decided to create a branch to deal exclusively with those requests. With Logan's law enforcement background, owners Canin, Rhone, Adam, and Kasey had made Logan an offer too good to refuse.
Maybe get you out from behind a desk every once in a while too.
Logan put a hand over his chest, feeling for the detective's shield that no longer existed. Not having a badge would take some getting used to, even if he hadn't actively worked a homicide case the way a detective should in two long years.
Lingering stiffness from sleet sheeting the air and dramatically dropping the temperature this morning had Logan shifting his hand from his chest to his hip and rubbing the twisted flesh through his pants. Accepting this job is a good thing. Quinn can see you're still useful and capable, pains and sometimes-limp or not. And if Logan could just avoid a certain shaggy-haired, dark-eyed fellow Quinn employee, he might one day convince himself he hadn't made a huge mistake in accepting the job.
"Logan?" Canin snapped his fingers in front of Logan's face, making Logan blink and return his attention to Canin's office. A glacier blue stare homed in on Logan from across the desk. "You okay, man?" Canin asked.
"Yeah. Sorry." Before he even processed the move, Logan again lifted his hand and rubbed where his badge used to be. "This is a big change. I was just taking a minute to let it all settle in."
"Go ahead and do that fast," Canin shared, "because I already have a case for you." With one push back of his chair, Canin stood and then moved to his office door. "Come with me."
Logan followed Canin into a centralized hub for the Quinn Security operation. Quinn had once been confined to a suite of offices on the tenth floor of the Houser Building, but the company now leased the entire floor.
As Canin walked Logan to the other side of the building, staff buzzed around them, professional looking, each and every one.
"I'll show you your office first," Canin explained. "You'll have a business cell, laptop, and whatever extras you need. I've put out a company-wide memo letting people know you're going to be interviewing for staff positions for anyone who wants to switch over to the investigations wing. We have a suite of offices ready on this end of the floor for when you hire them, but you're going to have to delve into this first case without a staff in place."
Studying the sea of virtual strangers around him, Logan wondered how long it would take to feel like a family, the way he had at his old job.
"Can I bring in people from outside?" Logan asked.
Canin quirked a brow. "Do you have someone in mind?"
"Not right now. I just want to be sure I can."
"Absolutely. We trust your judgment." Canin put his back to a glass door and pushed it open. Another receptionist hub, this one empty, lay beyond. A cluster of rich leather chairs sat to his left. A conference room loomed big and cavernous straight ahead, and from its door hallways broke off left and right. "Management will do the official hiring," Canin said, "but we'll negotiate seriously with anyone you want to bring on board."
"Good to know," Logan murmured, distracted by the fucking official nature of this place. The long lines of office doors, going in two directions, rocked through him and slammed the truth of this job home for him. He would be the boss and eventually in charge of likely a dozen investigators. Whoa. If not already accustomed to compensating for his damaged leg, Logan might have stumbled and tipped over.
"In the meantime," Canin added as he led Logan down the left hall, "you will have one right hand in place for this case. He'll act as point and work as your assistant, secretary, gofer, researcher... Whatever you need him to do."
"I don't need a slave, Quinn." Logan chuckled. "I know the bones crack more when I get up, but I'm still pretty damn self-sufficient."
"It's not about age or a broken-down body, man." Canin laughed back. "He's familiar with the client, and that will make them more comfortable working with someone new." Reaching the huge cherry-wood door at the end of the hall, Canin wrapped his hand around the handle. "This is your office." Canin bumped open the door with his hip. "Oh good, he's here. Nate"--Canin said the name, and Logan's heart stopped--"I'll let you get Logan up to speed on your case." Canin turned and thumped Logan on the shoulder. "Logan, I can't say it enough: Quinn is proud to have a person with your skills on our team. Nate should be able to answer any questions you have, but you know where to find me if you need anything." With that, Canin disappeared down the hall, leaving Logan on his own.
With a man Logan had never gotten entirely out of his head. Nate Jordan.
Now his partner on this case.
Sitting at Logan's assistant's desk, Nate drummed his fingers against his leg, unable to stop the hated tic. He did his best to hide it from Logan Jeffries's observant, pale green stare. Nate wished with everything in him he could have said no to his sister's request to work side-by-side with Logan, but gratitude for the opportunities she'd given him since moving to Chicago kept his lips zipped.
Shit, though. Crossing paths with Logan over the course of three years had done nothing to help Nate gain any comfort in the man's presence. Over time, Logan had just seemed to settle deeper into every imperfect, ragged-edged physical and personality trait he possessed. In turn, Nate had simultaneously grown more and more fascinated and intimidated when life put him and Logan in the same airspace. And that didn't even take into account the wet dreams about the man that fueled Nate's subconscious when he went to sleep every night.
"So you picked the short straw, huh?"
Logan's rough voice jerked Nate out of his head. He looked at Logan's warrior's body, hardly masked by his impeccable suit, moved up to study the hard slash of mouth, then to icy green eyes.
Nate's fingers picked up speed in their beat against his thigh. He cleared his throat and managed to say, "What?"
"The short straw," Logan said. He closed the outer door, strode past Nate, and went into his office. "It won't be fun being one of two people working the first case in a new division of Quinn."
Nate jumped up and automatically followed in time to hear Logan finish with, "If we fuck it up"--Logan already looked grim and lordly behind his desk--"it won't be pretty."
"And you'll take the blame," Nate mumbled as he took one of the two visitors' seats.
Logan made a feral growling noise under his breath. "You don't have to throw me under the bus already." His eyes changed from ice to fire.
"God, no." Damn it. Nate cursed his stupid runaway tongue. Shit. Stop your stupid mumbling. Feeling the heat already rise up his neck, Nate met Logan's stare. "I just meant based on what I know about you that you'd take the hit, even if your subordinate screwed up. I bet you were like that with your partners over the years." Nate stared, chewing furiously on the inside of his cheek. "I bet you'd be like that with me even if I didn't live up to my end of this case."
"If you fuck up, I'll make sure you know it." Logan's expression didn't soften one iota. Shifting his focus to the left, it seemed Logan saw beyond the walls to the offices on the other side of Quinn. "Doesn't mean I then have to take it to the boss, though."
"You are the boss," Nate reminded him.
Logan jerked back to Nate, making eye contact again. "I don't own the company any more than you do," he murmured, wrapping that wonderfully raw voice around Nate in a way that made Nate tremble.
Nate's chest squeezed too. He suddenly had to dig his shoes into the carpet and his ass into the chair in order to stop from leaping over the desk and slobbering all over this hardcore ex-detective. Logan definitely would not welcome or thank him for it. Nate had never forgotten his first beating; he refused to lose control with another straight man and invite a second.
Instead, Nate nodded and offered a tight smile. "Thank you for not thinking I'd have an automatic pass just because of Kasey."
A hint of a smile briefly lifted Logan's lips and flashed up into his eyes. "I've been friendly with your sister long enough to know she wouldn't give you any favors just because you share blood." That glimpse of a grin disappeared just as fast as it had come. Logan's voice went all gravelly as he said, "I also think I know you well enough to believe you'd never ask for one."
Nate rubbed at his cheek to hide the blush. "How about we don't blow this case? That way we don't have to test our job security."
"You're already saying the kinds of things I like to hear in a partner." Logan pushed forward to the desk, and the sober visage Nate had become accustomed to seeing on this man appeared. "Tell me about the people we're going to meet. I know we don't have much time."
"Hold on." Nate strode to the door. "Let me grab the laptops. I have files already started." He spoke through the open door as he gathered the computers and phones. "I've worked this client with Kasey since Quinn acquired the account. Grunt stuff at first," Nate explained as he returned, "but they got to know my face as one of Kasey's assistants, so they trust me."
"Good." Logan nodded, accepting one of the laptops from Nate. After opening it, he powered it up, and then shifted to Nate. "Your presence will help us immensely. Canin was right to give you to me." As soon as the words left his mouth, Logan jerked his gaze up to Nate's. His chiseled jaw clicked visibly. "For this case, I mean."
"Right." Nate's heart plummeted into his stomach at the obvious flinch of discomfort in Logan. Work. You're here to work.
"Okay let's discuss the Sarna case," Nate said.
"Wait. Why do I know that name? Sarna. Sarna." Loan's eyes suddenly widened. "The society party girl who went missing?"
"Yeah," Nate confirmed. "She's our job." He first clicked open his own file and then reached across the desk to show Logan where to access it on his new laptop. Immediately, a series of photos of an enormous warehouse and storefront appeared. "Let me give you some background on the Sarnas' business. They import artifacts, antiques, vintage jewelry, fine art, and home decor from other parts of the world, mainly from India, the Middle East, Russia, and Africa, and to a smaller extent some European countries. This is their storage warehouse"--Nate pointed to the screen--"and that's their official place of business." He tapped his finger against the photo of the swank retail storefront located on the Mile.
Logan slid a glance Nate's way. "Official?"
"They have a number of extremely wealthy clients who demand individual attention." Nate opened another file and brought up a partial list of their client's associates. "These people solicit or seek extremely rare items. They have developed more personal relationships with the Sarnas so do not come to the store to have their needs met. Those deals are brokered more intimately. In addition to our security on the warehouse and store, we provide Sarna with guard protection for those one-on-one deals. That's really how the Sarnas make the bulk of their money." Nate paused to push at the flyaway hairs tickling his ear. "When one of Sarnas' people locates an item or comes across a particularly valuable find, Quinn sometimes acts as the courier. We send employees across the world to bring back items safely. Sarna had some problems with their previous security firm and hired Quinn to replace them."
Logan stared at his computer screen, his chin in hand as he studied the warehouse and store photos. "Okay, so we've established their business seems to be chugging along nicely. Tell me about the girl."
Nate reached over Logan's hand and clicked open a second file. An image of a fresh-faced, blonde-haired young woman appeared. "Her name is Daria, and she's twenty years old." His arm still crossed over Logan's, Nate clicked the Forward arrow on the screen, bringing up a picture of an immaculate blonde-haired woman and a silver-haired man. "Those are the Sarnas, Elise and Stephen." He tapped the arrow again, bringing up a dark-haired young man with eyes as blue as the girl's. "And that's Daria's twin brother, Declan." After clicking one more time and pulling up Daria's likeness again, Nate lifted his gaze to Logan's. "Daria has been gone a week," he said. "The Sarnas are incredibly frustrated the police seem to have made them the only suspects in this investigation and aren't pursuing other lines of inquiry. In their minds, the police aren't taking Daria's disappearance seriously."
Hardness created brackets on either side of Logan's mouth. "It's routine for law enforcement to look at the family. It pisses people off, but statistics show it's a legitimate tactic. Do the Sarnas have a complaint beyond that? There must be something more going on here."
Nate forcibly ignored the fucking insistent urge to lift his fingers and smooth away those tension lines on Logan's face. He put his attention on the pretty girl filling Logan's computer screen, letting her deep blue eyes speak to him and put him back on task.
"Daria ran away once before." Nate shared a knowing glance with Logan. "Two years ago. She showed up ten days later when the cash she'd stolen from the family's emergency stash ran out." Nate's mouth pulled down at the edges. "That rainy-day money went missing in the Sarna home again a week ago. Daria also has a tendency to disappear for a few days here and there without informing anyone where she's going or when she'll be back."
"But the Sarnas clearly don't buy an impromptu vacation in this instance," Logan murmured. "No matter the trend pointing in that direction."
"The father is sure foul play is involved. He's the one who called Kasey with a request for assistance. He, the wife, and the son are scheduled to meet with us in the conference room in"--Nate grabbed Logan's wrist, turning it to look at his watch--"a half hour."
Heat radiating from Logan's skin seeped into Nate's hand the second their flesh came into contact. Nate kept his focus downward, mesmerized by the differences in Logan's rich olive tone compared to his own coloring paled by the winter months. Roughness topped Logan's darker skin in places. Fascinated, Nate ran his fingertips over the back of Logan's hand, down to his knuckles, taken by his warm, nicked flesh.
Logan's arm immediately tensed. Snapping his gaze to Nate's, Logan closed his hand into a fist.
Oh shit. Nate snatched his hand away and tucked it in his lap. "I apologize. I've been chilly all morning." Not a total lie. "Your skin is warm." He forced himself not to cower under the sudden darkening in Logan's stare. "I didn't think when I touched you."
"It's okay." Logan's tone came across only a little bit abrasive. The man rubbed his arm and hand where Nate had held it, and it appeared he very deliberately pulled his shirt and suit sleeve down to conceal his watch and wrist. "Forget it. For the next twenty-five minutes"--pure business returned to Logan's eyes--"give me every fact you have about the Sarnas themselves, their business, and any information you've been able to pull so far about the daughter. Then I want your personal impressions of the people, their employees, and the clients you've met." He locked in on Nate and held his gaze. "Tell me what isn't quantifiable on paper, Nate. Give me your gut."
Nate sprang up like a puppy getting its first rub behind the ears. "Yeah?"
With a sharp nod, Logan said, "I want the clearest picture I can have of these people before I ever set eyes on them. You're a great resource to achieve that. Get to it." Logan found a legal pad and a pen in the desk's top drawer, dragged it out, and put his full attention back on Nate. "Start talking."
"Cool." Nate beamed. His cheeks hurt from the stupid, huge smile he could not contain. Thank God, he hadn't ruined everything by fondling Logan's hand. "All right. Let's start with Mr. Sarna..."