The last thing I want to deal with is a shrink, especially Locke. Been there, done that. Not even Dr. McCann can help me through this depression. PTSD is one thing, but what I’ve been through – what some of us are still going through – it’s staring the devil in the face on a nightly basis and knowing that you’ll never defeat the monster that is buried deep within. It’s playing with fire and getting burned on an endless loop for the sake of feeling something.
When Cameron and JoJo leave me alone in the conference room, I fist my hair, ignoring the sudden onslaught of pain as a few chunks rip out.
I scream.
I kick a chair.
I belt out a few choice words to no one but dare anyone to answer me back.
I punch the wall and don’t even flinch when the only indication that my fist was there is a few drops of blood.
My coworkers stare through the glass doors. They murmur to themselves but I don’t give a shit.
But then I see her. Her mouth agape, her eyes still shimmering, but for me this time. I made Suzie so many promises that I’m going to fucking keep. I race through the double glass doors, straight to the Lavender-haired woman staring at me and grab her arm. I pull her up the stairs and into my office.
“Logan, what the hell is going on? You’re hurting my arm!”
I ignore her question but loosen the grip I have on her and pull her to the sofa that sits against one of the walls. I drop next to her and hold her hands in mine.
“Logan, you’re bleeding! What’s wrong, brother? Please. Just talk to me. You promised.” I hear the words fighting against the tears, choking me up. I kiss the spot on her arm that I had my grip on moments before, then finally let go of her. She walks to a door in one of my bookshelves and grabs the first aid kit I have stored. She sits down and begins to clean the cuts on my knuckles. I let out a small hiss when the peroxide touches the open cuts, but relinquish no more. Her head jerks up and she gives me a look, one I know all too well.
“I can’t do this anymore, Suz. I feel like I’m playing some sort of twisted musical chairs and soon that music is going to stop but where will that put me? I don’t want to talk to some doctor who will diagnose me with something I’ve already got. I don’t want to share my feelings with some stranger but I don’t want to bring the nightmares of my life to someone I know.”
“Then you speak to me. I might not have fought in the military with you, I might not have seen the things you’ve seen, but I’m living my own nightmares too.” She finishes wrapping my hand and quickly moves to toss the trash away and put the kit back. When she sits back down with me, she takes my hand in hers. “I can’t sleep at night without the lights on. It sounds silly, I know, but I want to be able to see if anyone enters my room. I have this constant paranoia that someone is lurking behind every corner but with the lights on, I can see them if they attack me. That’s how I justify it in my head. Three weeks ago, I was lying in bed when a car backfired on my street and –”
She drops my hand, covering her face as a fresh wave of hot tears spill out. “I called Jo when you wouldn’t answer your phone. I don’t remember running to my closet and burrowing deep inside but when he found me, he said I was curled up so tight that it took a few minutes for him to unravel me. He…He put me in the shower and just stood there with me not even caring that his clothes were getting wet or that I was blubbering all over his shirt. I finally got him to leave the shower to throw his clothes in the dryer but when I got out, I noticed that he was putting fresh linens on the bed. I literally got so scared for my life that I wet the bed. And JoJo didn’t blink an eye when it came to taking care of me. He stayed with me the rest of the night, but Logan? That terrified feeling hasn’t gone away. It’s not as intense but it’s still there, eating away at me while I try my hardest to put on a happy face. I’m slowly getting better. I tried talking to someone about it. Jo offered me Locke, and don’t get me wrong, he’s a great doctor, but he doesn’t understand.”
The look on her face guts me. I promised her I would talk to her, but that was for me. I never even realized, because of my own egotism, that she was going through something as well. I bury my head in her lap and I weep and apologize.
“I’m so sorry, Suz. I keep making all these promises to make myself better when it’s impossible and I’ve managed to selfishly think of no one else in this. I’m sorry you tried calling and I’m sorry that I haven’t been here for you. I didn’t know. I didn’t think.”
Somehow, she ended up being the one to comfort me instead of the other way around. She’s the one that’s been alone. She’s the one that’s had to come in here, day in and day out, watching the cops and the FBI bring in buckets of evidence, some of which was her brother’s – my husband’s – and sit without so much as a complaint that she had to drag herself out of bed, while Cameron and I have been acting like a bunch of pansies. She’s the strong one, not us.
“Yeah, well, none of us are exactly dealing with the whole situation as well as we can be. We’ve spent the last two months inside our heads, you, me, Cameron, and JoJo. We’re coping the only way we know how and it’s not healthy. Jo has had to run this place without you or Cameron this whole time and it’s wearing him down. You need to do what you can to get back in, Logan. He can’t do this alone.”
I sit up, my face dry but my breathing still ragged. “I can’t talk to Locke, Suz. But I need to go to Denver. I need to get to those clubs and I need to solve this case.”
And I know just how to do it. My time for acting like a sad sap is over. I’m ready for vengeance. I’m ready to finish this once and for all. I can’t start to heal until I know he’s no longer on the streets, ruining people’s lives.
“Then you do what you have to do.”
I study her face for a second, curious if she knows what is playing in my head as her stare holds steady. Because I was serious when I made the joke of defecting weeks ago. I will do whatever it takes to get my revenge on this guy.
“Which is…?”
“You know what I mean, big brother. You do what it takes in the name of Brad, Josh, and the rest of those people. You finally get that guy and maybe I’ll get the chance to see you happy again. Like you use to be with my brother. I know that’s a longshot but maybe the answer to that little mystery is closer than you think?”
Suzie stands up and after planting a kiss on my cheek, she walks out.
I set the plate that has my sandwich and chips on it on the table and head to the fridge. I grab a bottle of water and shut the door, but my hand hovers over the handle to the freezer. I know that just behind that door sits a cold bottle of vodka, ready to be emptied. And after this morning, it looks like a great fucking idea.
I spent three and a half hours in Locke’s office spilling my damn guts out only for him to tell me that I was suffering from PTSD. No shit. Got that diagnosis years ago.
The only good it did was letting me air out my grievances. I got to get Josh off my chest, not that I ever wanted him out of my head. The months following his death have been lonely and frustrating and being able to walk into his closet and losing myself in his clothes, his scent, has been a balm on my heart. But the realization that I’ll never be able to do that with Logan almost takes my breath away. And not in a bedazzling way.
Locke helped me realize early on in our session that Logan will never change unless he wants to. I can feel all I want about him but there’s no room in his heart or his life for me, romantically. Hearing that come from a stranger’s mouth is a crushing blow.
I left Locke’s office with a new perspective on Logan and everything going on. I ran to the gym in hopes that I could think about things differently but after running five miles, Logan was still on my mind, and not in a friendly way. A couple of rounds in the boxing ring only gave me a temporary reprieve. If anything, this whole day has put me on edge and it used to be that I could fuck the feeling away. Josh loved when I would take my frustrations out on him. And the way he would use me the same way was just as cathartic. All I need is one hour with some faceless stranger and I’ll be ready to board that plane to Denver.
I grab my phone off the counter and inwardly cringe when I go to the app store. I type in the six letters that I vowed I would never use together and watch as the black and yellow icon downloads. The minute I register my information, set up my picture and profile, pictures of strangers pop up and I swipe left until one catches my eye. In a strange way, he looks like Logan from ten years ago. Innocent, but muscular without being overly built. Like the swimmer’s body he had when I first met him. Sandy hair, with greenish-blue eyes, he stands next to a surfboard in a pair of swimming trunks and a hint of sweat glistening over his sun-kissed body.
I click on his picture and read his profile. I laugh at his name but don’t stop reading. Less than a mile away, his profile says he’s up for meeting whenever, wherever.
Twenty-two.
College senior.
Likes older men.
I click on the chat and send him a quick message.
DocGable: Hey there! Love your pic.
I stare at my phone for a few seconds and a reply comes in.
LucisousLuc: Hi. Thnx! Ur hot 2!
I roll my eyes at the shorthand but continue chatting. The kid is funny, smart, and a surfer trying to go pro. We exchange a couple of selfies and fuck me if his baby looks and charm don’t turn me on. Eventually, I grow a pair and type in the words my dick has been pushing me to ask.
DocGable: Wanna meet up?
LusciousLuc: I’m DTF. Tell me when and where.
I rattle off my address and after telling me he’ll be here in less than ten minutes, I scurry to make sure the house and I are clean. I finally sit down only to have my doorbell ring. Nervously, I wipe my hands on the front of my jeans before peering through the peephole. I’ve never done this before and suddenly I’m second guessing everything as I stare at a tall, built man. But my hand reaches forward and the doorknob turns and I come face to face with Logan two-point-oh. I move back and he walks in with a cocky smile on his face. I shut the door while he looks around, nodding until his gaze lands on mine.
“Nervous?”
“A little, actually,” I reply as my lips turn up shyly. “I’ve never actually done this before. By the way, my real name is –”
“Don’t.” He walks up to me and places a finger on my lips. “The fun is in the mystery. We’ll just go by our screen names. You’re…Gabe, short for Gable. And I’m L –”
“Logan. You’re Logan.” Because for now, he is.
He gives an understanding nod then reaches down for the hem of his shirt and brings it over his head. I follow suit and the second my shirt is off; his lips are on mine, full, firm, and expertly taking charge as they press against me.
There’s something freeing about the hurried kisses. The lack of inhibitions, the fun, carefree attitude of knowing that I’m going to fuck this man and in an hour or two, never see him again, turns me the fuck on. Something about the sloppy kisses, the way his tongue darts in and out of my mouth, sends my heart racing as I grab his waist and force him closer to me. Our hands lower, me trying to take his board shorts off him, his trying to unbuckle my belt.
We make our way down the hallway, dropping articles of clothing here and there, laughing between kisses as my nerves dissipate into lust. When we finally make it to the first bedroom, naked and ready, I kick the door open and we go tumbling into the bedroom.
I push him onto the bed and I drink him in as he props himself up on his arms. I walk to him slowly and in one quick move, I’m on my knees, pushing his legs apart and staring at one of the most impressive cocks I’ve ever seen. The thickness alone has my mouth watering. I engulf his dick, hitting the base as he moans out a low and lewd groan. I slowly rise, my tongue licking up his length until only the head is in my mouth.
I lower myself again, bobbing up and down I feel him tense up. I let him pop out of my mouth and trail kisses down his length until I come face to face with two filled balls. I put a finger in my mouth and cover it with saliva and find the tight pucker between his ass cheeks. I ease my finger in while sucking on the groove between his balls and his back arches as a hand grasps my hair, holding me hostage until he starts to cry out. I quickly cup his balls as I take him in my mouth again while simultaneously adding another finger to his ass.
“Oh, fuck. I’m about to come, Gabe. Where do you –?”
I let him pop out of me. “Down my throat. I want to suck you dry. Come in my mouth.”
My lips wrap around his head and between my fingers pumping in him and my tongue devouring the delicious sweetness of his dick, he bursts in my mouth, filling me up until he falls on the bed, spent. I lap him up, swallowing every drop until he’s dry like promised.
The entire time, my three fingers work in and out of him, slowly. Methodically. Nothing overdone so that by the time I take him, he’s ready to come again. And it’s going to be fast. My dick aches to release the built-up tension. Tension from the last few weeks and from the sexy being lying in front of me catching his breath. He drapes an arm over his eyes as the corners of his mouth slide upwards.
I let my finger slip out as I kiss my way up his body. Past his chiseled hips, his tight stomach, over his taut nipples until I’m just under his throat, sucking and nipping on the sensitive flesh until his hands rake through my hair.
“Fuck me, I tried to call out but I was left with no words. You, Gabe, have a magical tongue.”
I smile against his mouth, hovering over him ever so slightly that a mere breath would push our lips together. “And when you’re ready, I’ll prove to you that my mouth has nothing on my dick.”
“Do it now.” The glint in his eyes matches the smile curling at his lips.
I smash our mouths together, letting him taste himself on my tongue. I reach over, never breaking the kiss, and I grab the condom and lube that I stashed on the table earlier. I rip the packet, slide it on, and slick myself up. I break our kiss and my legs push his apart. I apply more lube to my fingers and slide them into his ass again, coating him and preparing him for me.
I grab his dick and I start pumping it, coaxing it back to his full length.
“You know, you really do have a fan-fucking-tastic dick.”
“Yeah, yeah, but what I really want is yours. Now.” I tilt my head until I find his eyes looking down between us. He watches me enter him while I stare at him and a face that screams longing. I ease into him until I push the last few inches in. I watch his face morph from a slight wince until he relaxes and his breathing hitches. He pulls his legs up, so they rest on my shoulders, making me reach deeper into a tighter space. I slide in again on a groan as his ass hugs my fucking dick in desperation.
“Oh, god. Fucking yes, Gabe.” I pull out and slam back in over and over. This time is about me and what I want and what I want is to be so far into this man that even when he forgets my fake name, he’ll feel me for the next week.
Me getting off. Me finding release. Me subconsciously fucking a stranger that looks like the love of my life so that I remember every waking moment this time.
His tight ass grips my dick harder and I thrust in and out. But it’s not enough. I need this to be more. It needs to be explosive. I pull out amid protests but not for long.
“Roll, over. On your knees.” The moment he’s on all fours, I crash back into him, my hand gripping his shoulders for support. When I push into him, I pull his body back. The deeper I go, the louder he cries.
“Baby, grab your dick. I’m about to come and I need you to come with me.” I start to fuck him faster, harder until I start screaming out. “Logan, baby. Shit, I’m coming inside your ass. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I let loose weeks’ worth of frustration and anxiety into this stranger’s ass until I’m empty and I slump over onto his back.
“God, whoever this Logan guy is, he is the luckiest mother fucker if he’s getting your dick. And tongue. And hands.” I laugh against his back but it’s short-lived.
Suddenly, the door opens and the real Logan is standing there. “Jesus, Cameron.”
I scramble to get covers over us but not fast enough. Logan’s eyebrow rises as he cocks his head to the right. With a smirk on his face, he nods as if he’s giving me his approval. Not that I need it.
“Get the fuck out, Logan,” I growl, finally getting the covers over us.
The smirk disappears and a cold stare replaces the once cocky features of his face.
“Playtime is over, kid. I’ll let you say your goodbyes, but Cameron is mine now.” Logan grabs the doorknob and pulls the door shut.
“Ah, well, I take back what I said. He doesn’t seem very happy to see me.”
“Ignore him. He’s in a perpetual bad mood. But he’s right. He wouldn’t show up here if it weren’t important. I guess it’s time to go. Let me grab some clothes and I’ll take him to the backyard while you head out.”
“No worries. I don’t mind walking out there naked, showing him what you got and what he missed out on.” He gives me a wink and a quick kiss before saying goodbye and disappearing through the door. Taking a cue from the kid, I walk out of the room in my birthday suit and I take my time walking to my bedroom. For some reason, Logan is sitting on my bed.
“Jesus, Doc. Where are your damn clothes?” Inwardly I smile at the use of my nickname. It’s been so long since that small bit of normalcy has passed through anyone’s lips. Outwardly, I scowl.
“This is my fucking house, Logan. What do you want?” I rifle through some drawers until I’m fully clothed.
“So, I see the kid had to leave before sundown. Did mommy and daddy threaten to punish him if he didn’t get home before curfew? And interestingly enough, did I hear my name?”
“His name happened to be Logan,” I grit through a clenched jaw as I glare at him. He doesn’t have to know the real truth. “Believe it or not, there are actual decent people out there with the same name, which is more than I can say for you.”
I watch as he lets out a sigh, his shoulder slightly slumping. He runs a hand through his hair which already looks like it’s seen better days. “Are you done? Look, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to come here and see that. I really did come here for a reason. I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t be biting your head off.” I give in. As usual.
“I need you to pack your bags. Grab your camo, your weapons, your gear.” The ferocity in his voice reminds me of our SEAL days. Barking orders and giving commands is one of the things I liked most about him and his slightly domineering ways.
“What?” I walk over to where he’s standing, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.
Logan closes the gap between us and stares intently into my eyes. “I’m fucking sick and tired of this case running slower than a group of snails. I need to do something and the only thing I can think of is going to Denver. Me and you.”
“And what does JoJo have to say about this?” I stare him down but he doesn’t budge. He remains expressionless but his words are quiet and calculated.
“Joseph Rodriguez is not my boss. If I want to fly to Denver, then so be it. If I want to investigate this on my own, then I will. I won’t let you, him, or Wilkerson stand in my way. I want this asshole to be caught and I want to be the one to do it. With you by my side. I can’t do this alone but I will damn sure try if you aren’t willing to go with me.”
I take a minute to let the words sink in. We’ve had to play this investigation safe. By the rules. But if we go off on our own, there are no rules. No one telling us no and no one trying to stop us. We can be stealthy. We can get in and out of places no one else can. We can do this on our own terms.
“Go rouge?”
“Go rouge.” His answer is immediate.
“I’m in.”
Logan gives me a subtle nod. “Good. Pack up and meet me outside in ten minutes.”
“Give me three.”