“It’s the cops.” Cilla knocked on the locked door. “And another man.” She stepped back at the sound of running water and shrugged at the handsome male at her shoulder.
Logan knocked. “Hana, open the door,” he insisted.
She dried her face on her shirt, mascara streaking her cheeks and making her reluctant to dirty Cilla’s neat towel. She sniffed and cursed as the water aggravated her stitches. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Bodie shouldn’t have called you.” She leaned her bum against the sink, making no move towards giving him entry.
The lock resounded with a click and Logan stepped through the door, dipping his head to clear the frame above. Hana gaped in surprise at the ease with which he invaded. His arms felt safe and Hana closed her eyes against the wave of relief which shook her body. “You
