His Nanny Mate - Season 4 Episode 23

Ella

The chilling revelation about Officer Daniels left a pit in my stomach, but not for the reasons Logan might’ve assumed. It wasn’t fear that gnawed at me-it was a burning anger. Injustice had always spurred me to action.

As we walked back to the car, Logan turned to me, his eyes full of concern. “Ella, if you think this is too much, it’s not too late to walk away.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, masking the fierce determination bubbling beneath the surface. “Logan, walking away is not in my nature. This just got a lot more personal.”

His gaze softened, relief evident. “Good, because I could really use someone like you on my side.”

The rain had lightened up, but the weight of the situation bore down on us. “We need that casing, Logan. But how do we get Daniels to hand it over?”

Logan smirked. “I have a few ideas.”

“Such as?” He paused for a moment, as if deciding how much to share. “What do you think of a visit to Officer Daniels’ home?”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

Logan motioned for me to follow him. As we approached his sleek, black car, several imposing figures stood waiting-his men.

“Daniels needs some… persuasion,” Logan began, his tone matter-of-fact. “My men can help with that.”

A plan was forming already in my mind. “So we show up, make him sweat a bit, and then…?”

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Logan finished my thought, “We retrieve the bullet casing. But Ella, I need you to know, my men won’t harm him. They’re here for intimidation, nothing more.” I nodded. “As long as no one gets hurt, I’m in.”

The drive to Daniels’ modest suburban home was tense. Even with the weight of Logan’s posse in tow, the uncertainty of what awaited us was palpable. Porch lights dimly lit the wet streets, creating a soft glow that made the shadows dance.

We arrived at Daniels’ doorstep, the silence interrupted only by the soft pitter-patter of rain. on the rooftops. One of Logan’s men knocked. The door slowly creaked open to reveal a disheveled Daniels, his eyes widening in surprise and fear.

“What the hell do you want?” he stammered. Logan stepped forward, his demeanor calm yet assertive. “We need to have a chat, Officer Daniels. About a certain bullet casing.”

Daniels swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Logan motioned to his men, who subtly stepped closer, their sheer presence enough to elicit a gasp from Daniels. “I think you do. Now, are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“Please,” Daniels whispered, his voice shaky. “Not in front of my family.”

Logan looked around. The house was quiet, the lights dimmed, with only the silhouette of a woman, possibly Daniels’ wife, peeking through the window blinds.

I stepped forward, trying to calm the situation. “Officer Daniels, just give us the casing. We promise nothing will happen to you or your family.”

Daniels looked from me to Logan, the wheels in his mind clearly turning. After a few tense moments, he disappeared into his home, only to return with a small plastic bag containing the bullet casing. He handed it over with a trembling hand.

With a nod, Logan took the pouch from Daniels’ hand. “Now tell me one more thing, Officer Daniels,” Logan said, folding his arms. “Who paid you to hide this evidence?”

“Promise me,” Daniels whispered, his eyes darting nervously between Logan and his men. “Promise me you’ll keep my family safe.”

Logan nodded. “I give you my word. In fact,” he signaled to two of his men, “these gentlemen will stay nearby, undercover. To ensure your family’s safety.”

Daniels nodded gratefully, relief evident in his eyes. “It was a lawyer. Westbrook, I believe his name was. He paid me to hide this bullet, and that Logan had to go down… no matter what. I swear, I don’t know anything else.”

There was a heavy silence. Logan and I shot each other a quizzical glance; someone must have paid Westbrook to hide this evidence, I was sure of it. But who?

“Thank you, Officer Daniels,” I said. Without another word, he retreated into his home, closing the door behind him. As we drove back to the firm, the streetlights painted fleeting streaks of orange on Logan’s face, revealing the deep furrows of worry.

“It’s late,” Logan said, breaking the silence. “I can pick you up in the morning.” I shook my head. “No, I need to start this now. The first court session is tomorrow.”

Logan paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll come with you, then.”

He was about to head to the door, but I stopped him. “You should go home, Logan. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

He turned, dark eyes studying me. “Ella, there’s no way I’m letting you work late by yourself.”

“I’ve pulled all-nighters before. I’ll be fine,” I said with a scoff.

“Not on my watch,” he said firmly, but with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, it’s not every day you get to work on something like this… Especially not with someone like you. We’re in this together, remember?”

Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Fine, but if we’re going to burn the midnight oil, we need coffee.”

Logan grinned. “You read my mind.”

I fetched a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured us both mugs. Logan’s was black, like his attire, mine had a splash of cream. We set up shop in my office-me behind my desk with an array of legal documents spread out like a deck of cards, and Logan opposite, his laptop open to a database he had ‘special access’ to.

“Look at this,” he said, showing me a precedent case. “A cop tried to hide evidence, just like Daniels. And he was caught.”

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I raised my eyebrows, impressed. “This could be useful. Where did you even find this?”

Logan smirked. “I have my ways.”

As we delved deeper into our research, a synergy developed between us. It was like a dance; Logan finding pieces of information and me connecting them to the legal framework. Hours flew by, and the silent rhythm of our work felt strangely intimate.

At one point, my gaze wandered over to Logan. He was engrossed in reading a crucial document, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The dim light of the single desk lamp cast a gentle glow on him, accentuating his chiseled features. Without realizing, a small smile crept onto my face. He does look handsome, I thought.

“You’re falling for him,” Ema chimed in. I quickly looked away, my cheeks flushing slightly. “No, I’m not,” I shot back mentally. “I’m just… impressed. I never expected a mobster to be so… dedicated.”

My wolf chuckled softly. “Whatever you say, Ella. But remember, I know you better than anyone.”

I sighed, focusing back on my work. But every so often, my gaze would drift back to Logan, and every time, that warm, fluttery feeling in my stomach would intensify.

Around 3 a.m., my eyes started drooping, and the words on the pages began to blur. Logan must’ve noticed, because he leaned over, his hand brushing against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Maybe we should take a short break?” he suggested, his voice husky with fatigue. Nodding, I replied, “Just a few minutes. We have so much left to do.”

Logan smiled softly, his gaze lingering on me. “You’re one hell of a fighter, Ella. I admire that.”

It was my turn to smirk. “Takes one to know one.”

He laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the situation faded. It was just two people sharing a genuine moment, free from the burdens of their respective worlds.

But the moment was short-lived. We got back to work, the energy from our shared laugh fueling us for a while longer. We cross- referenced, debated, and strategized, trying to craft the perfect defense. Logan’s insights into the darker side of the city proved invaluable, and I found myself relying on him more than I’d like to admit.

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As dawn approached, our energy dwindled. Despite our best efforts, the exhaustion caught up.

At some point, the weight of our eyelids became too much, and we both drifted off, our heads resting on the sea of papers sprawled across the desk.