He’d seen the hurt and confusion in her eyes. He cared about her too much to let her go like that. He also wasn’t prepared to allow her to drive home in the state she was in.

Catching up to Ariana, he dropped a hand on her shoulder. She must not have heard his footsteps, a sure sign of the degree of her agitation, because she gasped and spun around as if ready to do battle. He saw recognition register before he took her into his arms.

He could sense her desire to resist. To push back.

Her heart was racing, but as he continued to hold her, he sensed the tension easing. It felt just so darn good holding her in his arms. It didn’t matter how strong she was. At that moment she needed comfort and Logan was pleased that she was letting him provide it, especially since they were in a public corridor.

She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

She appeared a little steadier when she stepped back and tilted her face up, questions swirling in her eyes.

He could see the cracks in her brave outer shell. He couldn’t blame her. The attacks were getting more personal, and that worried him to no end.

“Let’s get you settled in the SDPD’s site office, while I finish up.”

He was mildly surprised when she didn’t object or insist on going with him to see firsthand what was happening.

Once they got to the police office, Logan grabbed a blanket from their first aid supplies and wrapped it around Ariana. “Don’t protest,” he said when he saw that she was about to. “Let me take care of you for a minute.”

He gave her another bottle of water and was relieved to hear that her voice, although subdued, was calm when she thanked him. He watched her closely as she took a long drink. There was a slight tremor in her hand, but he had to give her credit for keeping it together as well as she was.

She ran the cool bottle over her brow and hung her head. “What am I missing? What is it that I should be seeing that I’m not?”

“I wish I had the answers.” Logan’s frustration mingled with a sense of failure.

She raised her head. He could read the uncertainty, the exhaustion and the residual fear as clearly as if it was written in ink.

“I don’t know what to do. This is about me. There’s no denying it now. It’s personal. But why?”