Chapter FiveLOGAN JERKED HIS attention to the back door, a skillet in his hand, as Dax jumped to his feet, legs braced, ears perked. Logan tilted his head a little, straining to hear whatever might have spooked the German Shepherd, but heard nothing. He glanced back at Madison; the woman clutching to the towel on her stomach, her eyes wide as she stared at the back door. He could read the worry on her face, the panic twisting her nerves into a tight ball of trembling fear.
Setting the skillet on the stove, he moved toward the back door. He never received visitors. Before opening the door, he peered out the window. Standing there, staring out into the woods behind Logan’s cabin was the shaggy, dark-haired form of Luca Basile, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he waited, looking casual
