SUMMER
Logan was still in his jacket, jaw set, his deep dark eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn't name — not the frown, not the controlled blankness. Something more urgent than either of those. Something that hadn't had time to be composed yet.
He pulled me away from the music, away from the bar, away from everything that was lit and populated and safe. He pulled me down a hallway that was narrow and dim, service lighting only, and the bass from the club turned into a muffled pulse through the walls. A door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY stood half-open at the end of it. Logan pushed it the rest of the way and drew me through before I'd decided whether I was going to object.
We were in the storage room. There was metal shelving, stacked boxes, filled with the smell of cleaning supplies
