I’m in so much trouble.
I might be fooling him with my cool and mostly hostile exterior, but I can feel the cracks in my resolute resolve beginning to widen. That damn snack he left for me last night nearly had me banging on his bedroom door to more than share my midnight feast of a stack of banana and sugar sandwiches, my favourite.
I admitted to myself, in the wee hours, that I might not be entirely prepared. Who am I kidding? I’m in no way near prepared. Not for him being nice, being the Cass I remember. Even being in the same damn room, my body betrays me, and I know full well he’s acutely aware of every goosebump. I’m an idiot for thinking I had a handle on this, that I somehow I wouldn’t remember everything he once was to me, that this wouldn’t affect me, wouldn’t knock me sideways and then some.
Truth is, I just don’t know how to deal with Cass still being the man I loved, my first love.
I need some space to collect my wayward thoughts, together with some straight talking and maybe some not-so friendly advice to help me regain focus.
And I need Logan to finish what he started.
My head may be a mess, but my body is in a war zone, and it’s clouding my judgment.
All night I tossed and turned, trying to separate what I feel from what I need to do. When I finally managed to close my eyes, all I could see was impossibly deep blue eyes staring into my soul, and when I woke up, all I could think about was Logan’s kiss and how I want more, much more.
I know the right choice is to keep to the plan, but my body is on the ragged edge, and I’m afraid it’s going to leap arse first into the wrong direction. If I can’t trust me, there’s only one person I can trust to help me make the right choice. The dial tone is cut when the call connects, and I quickly speak first.
“Ghost?”
“What the fuck, Star? I’m hanging up, and don’t call me again unless it’s from the fucking burner phone. Did I not teach you anything, you dumb bitch?” Her soft southern American accent sounds brutally harsh, just in case I didn’t get that inference from her calling me a dumb bitch. The line goes dead, and I curse myself. She did teach me better, she taught me everything and more, and she is spot on about being dumb, but I’m desperate, too, another thing she will be mad about and will rightly tear me a new one next time we do speak. Desperation makes smart people do stupid things, and stupid things get smart people caught.
Cass’s mood seems to darken the instant we cross the Blackfriars Bridge heading away from his home and toward Logan’s. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see him, but that brief aborted call earlier is the real reason I need to return today. The burner phone is in my room, hidden along with some other essential supplies that I now know I need. I can pick almost any lock there thanks to the excellent tutelage from Ghost, but biometric entry requires some special materials if I’m to get the access I need to Atticus’s office. It’s the whole reason I knew seeing him again was inevitable. I have everything I need in place, and I thought I was prepared for every curve, fork, or spanner. I just wasn’t prepared for him.
The limousine pulls alongside the curb outside Logan’s house, and my hand is on the handle before the motion of the car has completely stopped.
“Wait!” Cass calls as I swing the door wide. He grabs my jacket to stop me from disappearing. I hold my position half in and half out of the car, turning my head when he speaks. “How long are you going to be?”
“Why? Would you like to come in?” I instantly regret my snide and snappy retort. That’s the last thing I want, and Logan would definitely throw a shit fit if I show up with Cass in tow.
“You’re funny, and I’ll call your bluff one day, princess, so you can drop the attitude. I will be back in an hour, and I’m being generous.” His jaw ticks wildly with this concession.
“An hour! Come on, that’s no time at all!” I huff out with obvious exasperation.
“Exactly. Mine, remember?” He reaches his long fingers to flick the tiny padlock, which is surprisingly weighty when it thumps back against my throat.
“Please, Cass, give me three hours. I have stuff to do. I didn’t realise I wouldn’t have easy access to my things, so I need to think a little more about what I will need. I don’t want to have to keep putting you out like this.” I soften my tone. If only my plea didn’t sound so disingenuous, he might buy the sentiment. His brow quirks high, and his full lips thin into a tight line, and I know that’s not the case. I hold my breath, because from that look, I will be lucky if he gives me five fucking minutes.
“Two hours and not a minute more.” I exhale the held breath with a rush of air and a wide genuine smile.
“Thank you.”
“You will owe me for this, princess.” He tugs me back into the car, catching me off balance, and I brace my fall with one hand on his lean muscular thigh and the other on his shoulder. His breath is warm and minty, millimetres from my lips. The invisible hairs on his skin seem to tangle with my own, he’s so damn close. His piercing eyes bore into me. There is so much there in those swirling depths—history, longing, and lost love. My stomach drops fathoms into the deep, and I have to force myself to speak. It’s a raw whisper.
“Really, Cass, what more can I give you that you haven’t taken already?”
“Oh, I can think of one thing.” My mouth dries, and a million prickles kiss my skin with the drop in his voice and the incendiary glare in his eyes. Shit.
“Two hours,” I choke out and push off of him. The heat between us crackles and dies at the break in contact as I hightail it out of his car. My feet hit the pavement, and I would be surprised if Bolt himself would’ve beaten me to Logan’s door. I’m so in over my head with the whole sexual tension thing. Why the fuck didn’t I factor this in to my plan? Oh, yes, because I’m a dumb bitch.
There’s no sound in the house when I enter the front door, and a quick look in the library and kitchen makes me think Logan is probably still asleep. Before he ‘found’ me in the basement, he was pretty much nocturnal, so I’m not surprised he has reverted to type, although it might just be a one-off. It has only been one day.
It feels so much longer.
I spring up the stairs two at a time on my tiptoes, taking care to avoid the creaks. I’m on the clock, and I need to speak to Ghost before I deal with Logan. His office is on the second floor but both our bedrooms are on the first, opposite ends of the long corridor and the floorboards could wake the dead with a poorly placed foot. I hate this feeling of uncertainty, and if anyone is going to put me straight, it’s her. I’ve never met anyone like her. Smart, brutally honest, and most likely a sociopath. She was my best friend for three years while we shared a cell, and if she was capable, I think she would say the same of me. She wouldn’t take a bullet or anything, because she lacks even a smidgen of empathy, but she ‘cares’ in a way that I appreciate. Educated, resourceful, and a brilliant mind for revenge.
I click my bedroom door shut and press my ear to the solid oak to check I haven’t disturbed Logan. Satisfied, I drop to my knees and roll the rug back enough to expose the floorboards. Pushing one end of the only one that is slightly discoloured, I lift it free. There is a small steel security box with a padlock, not unlike the one I currently have around my neck. The key is hidden in the joist of the flooring, a small section I carved out which is invisible to anyone who doesn’t know it’s there. I prise the wood out and the key falls into my palm. The box contains my passport, some cash, a copy of the Will, some sentimental crap I couldn’t seem to throw away, and the burner phone.
I sit with my back against the door because if, for whatever reason, I can’t hear footsteps, Logan is large enough that I will feel the vibrations. I do not need him to hear this conversation.
This shit is complicated enough without that.
“Better. What the fuck were you thinking, Star?” Ghost snaps, her tone still laden with irritation and anger.
“I’m sorry, I have a situation, and—” She interrupts before I can explain further.
“I know. Why the fuck are you staying with him? How the fuck did you manage to get arrested ahead of schedule? Please tell me you haven’t fucked this up already?” She fires question after question without drawing breath.
“If you’d let me speak…”
“Star, there’s more than just a little payback at stake here.” Her tone shifts down a notch, but I can just picture her permanent scowl. Her brown eyes are so dark they always looked black, and her sharp fringe and severe bob haircut frame her pale pixie face with hard angles.
“I know.”
“Talk to me.”
“I’m a mess.”
“That’s a given, you might need to elaborate.”
“Logan kissed me.”
“He what?”
“Kissed me, I mean he really kissed me, knee-trembling type of kiss. He all but pissed around my legs, marking his territory in front of Atticus.” My tongue swipes my bottom lip at the delicious memory.
“This is a problem,” she mutters, and I’m not sure if it’s a question. I feel her judgment, and verbal vomit rushes from my mouth in an attempt to make some sense of what I’m feeling.
“Yes, no…I don’t know. Atticus makes me…he…I can’t think straight, and my body…he made me banana sandwiches.” I am flustered, and this is exactly why I need help. I’m not this person. I haven’t been giddy like this since… Actually, I don’t think I was ever giddy.
“Oh, bringing out the big guns.” Her tone is snide, and her sharp laugh is without humour. “Just stop, Star. You need to keep focus.”
“I know. It’s just these feelings.” I press my hand to my chest where the strong, rapid heartbeat is rattling more than my ribcage.
“What feelings?”
“The tingly, fuck-with-your-head-and-heart kind of feelings.” I close my eyes and shake my head. Even if she can’t see me, I know she can hear my desperation.
“For who?” I can’t get a read on her impassive tone, but the fact that she’s still talking gives me hope that I’m not a completely lost cause. We may be a dysfunctional partnership, but she’s still my partner, and I need her eyes and ears.
“Both.” My admission sounds more like a question. The silence stretches for long and excruciating minutes, and I know from experience she can keep this up for days, weeks even, and I just don’t have the time. I am about to ask more specifically for some guidance when she speaks. Her cold clinical tone brooks no argument, and if I’m honest, I’m just grateful she hasn’t hung up. If some people are closed off and need their privacy, Ghost is an island on a distant planet in another galaxy far, far and even farther away. I think her only exposure to, albeit historical, loving relationships, human emotions, and affection are what I told her about Atticus and me, which I only did to while away the tedious days inside jail.
“Don’t go there with Atticus, Star. It’s too dangerous. End of.” She’s vehement and abrupt with that assessment. I knew she wouldn’t pussyfoot around me; however, she pauses slightly before she continues. “My advice, since I know that’s why you called: if you can’t keep your dick in your pants, for want of a better expression, fuck Logan. You said he staked his claim, right?”
“But I lied to him. What if he finds out our meeting wasn’t a coincidence?”
“Trust is an issue with him for sure, but that’s true regardless of if you fucked him or not. There’s no reason why he would find out now after all this time. He’s satisfied he knows enough and believe me, he checked you out thoroughly. He never would’ve let you stay if that wasn’t the case.” I don’t bother to ask how she knows all this. It’s a toss-up between Ghost and Logan who is the better cyber whizz, and I’m only as good as I am because I’ve learned from them both, even if, all along, Logan was an unwitting tutor. She finishes a mouthful of something before she speaks again.
“You can always hope that, spreading your legs for him after what you went through, he’d just about forgive anything”
“Jesus! I don’t want his pity, Ghost.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She cuts me dead then sighs heavily. Her voice is strained, and I can hear she’s struggling with this conversation, far too many emotions for her particular brand of sociopathy. “Look, I guess you probably feel something for him, love or whatever, but it doesn’t matter. At some point Star, sooner or later, you need to allow yourself to live, not just exist.” Her words are forced, but it’s still a comfort to hear them from her, even if I can also hear her teeth grind when I reply.
“I do love him Ghost, I…I want him like that. I just don’t know if I can.” I can feel the pinch of prickles behind my eyes. It’s not the first time I’ve wanted this. It’s just the first time I’ve thought about wanting more. It’s all I’ve been thinking since that kiss, and that’s the problem.
“If you say so. Just be honest with him about what happened, make sure you tell him everything. You need to get your head back in the game, and Logan isn’t your problem.” She sounds irritated, and for once, I wish I had a more modern phone with video calling so I could get a better read on her. “Think about it, that’s not what’s really affecting your focus. You’ve got Atticus stirring things up, no doubt playing on an unresolved history of sexual promise. Logan’s just reacting to a new alpha in town; it’s so clichéd it’s almost comical. He stepped up like a big dumb dog in a pissing contest with that kiss. It’s a game Tia.” She sniffs derisively, and I get a twist in my gut that she might be right. I’m so confused. “It’s kind of pathetic.” She laughs and I feel the lack of humour like a damp blanket over my burgeoning sparks of ill-timed lust and desire. She switches tack and makes my head spin with the speed of her U-turn. “Still, I don’t discount that sexual tension is a potent distraction that you don’t need. My advice? Try to be like me and take the feelings out of it. Be honest with him, and after everything is said, it will happen or not.” I can almost see the curl of disdain in her lip as she forces the unpleasant notion from her mouth and rushes to finish the sentence. “…then scratch this itch and get back with the programme.”
“Simple as that.” I sniff and look up to the ceiling, silently seeking the strength I’m going to need to tell Logan what happened.
“If you think for a moment Logan doesn’t know most if not everything that went down in jail you’re a bigger, dumber bitch that I thought. He’s one of the best hackers for a reason.” It’s a thought that had crossed my mind a time or two.
“So how come he doesn’t know what I’m doing?” I pick nervously at the threads in the hole in my jeans, tugging them loose, which ensures that the rip is pretty much beyond repair. I can push my whole fist through the gap at the knee when my leg is stretched out on the floor.
“Because I’m a better hacker, and I’m covering your arse.” Her tone is derisive enough that she doesn’t need to add a ‘duh’, which would finish off her statement of the bloody obvious perfectly.
“And I love you for it.”
“Yeah. You know, you really shouldn’t.” I smile at her stock response. “Look, I gotta go, anything else?”
“No, that’s all, No wait, sorry, just one thing I almost forgot. He’s got fingerprint security on his office door. The safe and his main hard drive will be in there. The one that isn’t connected to the network and I can’t access from his office in the Kruse building.” I internally curse myself that I almost forgot this. For fuck’s sake, if my head doesn’t need clearing, my arse certainly needs kicking.
“Just one more thing, hmm?”
“I know, I know, head in the game. I’m all over it. Look, I can lift his print, but I will need you to check once I’m in, in case he has extra hidden security, either cameras or on his computer.” I brush aside her sarcastic undertone.
“Just upload the code, and I’ll clean every move you make.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Just remember that when you cash out,” she reminds me, and I’m quick to nip that tired conversation in the bud.
“I’m just taking what’s mine, Ghost, not a penny more.” I can hear her huff, but she doesn’t push it.
“Fine. One more thing, I shouldn’t have to remind you, but since your head is all over the fucking place, I think it bears repeating. Nothing changes between us, right?” Her voice drops with deadly seriousness.
“Nothing changes. Why would it?” I resolutely reassure her.
“Just make sure you don’t mention me to Logan.” She repeats what she told me the day she gave me his address and just as forcefully. I didn’t ask then. I didn’t care, and I had no vested interest other than needing a roof and access to the best computer hardware outside of the CIA. However, with things up in the air between Logan and me, I feel compelled to ask.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll never hear from me again if you do.”
“Oh!” I gasp at the decidedly chilly declaration.
“And he’ll kill you,” she adds before the line goes dead.
“Ghost! Ghost!” I call out.
What the hell?
I stare at the phone like it will somehow make sense of what she just said. That emphatic tone I recognise, and my mind races with a million questions that I doubt I’ll ever get the answers to. We left prison together; however, I haven’t seen her since. If I hadn’t spent every day for three years inside in the same damn cell, based on our current relationship status, I would struggle to believe she was real.
There’s a reason she’s called Ghost.
I empty out the drawing pencils from the container, into the bottom of the bag and place the phone in the tin case before I bury it under all the art materials inside my satchel. I roll the rug back over the floorboard and smooth it flat with my hands, pressing down to make sure there’s no tell-tale bump. Pulling myself to stand, I am still bent over when the door crashes open, hits my arse, and sends me flying across the room. My arms fly out to prevent a head-on collision with the bed frame, but I’m not quick enough to soften the momentum, and I smash my nose on the knuckle of my right hand. I hear the crunch and see the stars before the pitch-black blanket drops, knocking me out cold.
Shooting pain, no, that’s not right, a throbbing, mind-numbing pain pulls me conscious, and I groan.
“Hey.” Flecks of onyx catch the light in his dark chocolate eyes, his thick brow has a deep furrow but softens into a relief-filled smile, which seems to mirror my own, but for different reasons.
“Hey,” I reply, only I don’t recognise my own voice. It sounds like I’m congested with the mother of all colds. “Ow!” My fingertips barely touch the unfamiliar object in the middle of my face, when pain blinds me. I wince, screw my eyes shut, and feel the tears trickle down my cheeks.
“Oh, babe, you’re a little swollen, and it probably feels much bigger than it is, but I don’t think it’s broken. There’s a lot of blood, though.” He holds up a fist full of tissues and his t-shirt looks like he’s taken a direct hit from a sawed off shotgun, at close range. I shuffle up my bed and glance down at my own sweater, his sweater. I wonder if he gave me a quick cuddle while I was unconscious because my front is a mirror image of his T-shirt. “Here, eat these, they’ll help.” He hands me a thick gooey piece of chocolate brownie.
“Blood sugar for the shock?”
“Something like that.” He grins, and I wince again when my nose makes an involuntary attempt to wrinkle with confusion. “Eat.”
“This is a hash brownie, isn’t it? Don’t you think an aspirin might be better?” I try and school my face to not make any facial expressions. It feels like I’ve been hit with a shovel.
“No, I don’t, now eat.” He takes the brownie from my hand and places it against my lips; his expression shifts from stern to scorching. I’m not sure of the medicinal capabilities of the cake, but I’m suddenly unaware of any pain, and my temperature is rocketing. I open my mouth and hold his gaze the entire time, from the first bite to licking my lips when it’s finished.
“Logan,” I breathe out, and for the first time, his name sounds like a plea on my lips.
“Trouble.” A deep rumble accompanies the gravelly tone, and I shiver as every hair on my body stands alert and alive.
“What you said the other day…” I swallow the lump in my throat and feel my skin colour from the heat crawling up my neck to my face.
“Yes.” His smile spreads slowly across his handsome face, wide, warm, and wicked. I’m melting, and I have to fight the urge to squirm and squeeze my legs together.
“What did you mean by it?”
“Us, Tia…I meant us.” He growls out that last word with such heat, and it feels like a branding iron over my heart. “I’m done pussy-footing around. I saw the way he looked at you. This isn’t a pissing contest because I have no intention of losing. He wants you, and I’m not going to let that happen.”
“He doesn’t want—” Logan interrupts with a hollow laugh.
“I never took you for a fool, Tia, so don’t start now.” He grits out the words as if he’s angry. There’s passion, desire, and hunger in his eyes, yet his jaw is clenched to the point of pulsing, and tension is rigid in his broad, strong shoulders. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anything or anyone in my life, and this little situation you’ve got yourself into has forced my hand, but in all honesty, I shouldn’t have waited so damn long.” He wipes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, and my tongue chases the movement. He lets out an audible moan and closes his eyes like he’s in pain, no, more like agony. I reach for his other hand and entwine my fingers with his. I don’t want him to be in any doubt. Even if I’m scared shitless of the actual act, I know in my heart I want him just as much as he wants me. Ghost was so wrong; this is real.
”Tia, you need to tell me what you want. And just in case you think I’ll buy the ‘friend-zone’ bullshit, let me remind you, friends don’t kiss like we did, and friends don’t grind their hot, sweet pussy against hard cocks like you did.”
“And friends’ hearts don’t beat like this.” I pull our joined hands to my chest so he can feel the strength of my heartbeat. “Logan, I…I.” Dropping my gaze, I struggle to find the words. He eases the path with his softly secure and coaxing voice.
“Hey, this is me, Tia, you can tell me anything, anything.” He urges with such tenderness and sincerity that I feel it in my bones. It’s terrifying.
“Sex changes things,” I utter. He tips my chin up with a light touch, his playful grin easing my trepidation.
“Not always, but in our case, I fucking hope so. And let me clarify: Great sex changes things; phenomenal sex changes everything. We will be the latter, just in case you were wondering.” He chuckles, a sexy sound filled with promise. “I want you, Tia, I want all of you.”
“I don’t know how often I can get back here, Logan,” I deflect, but he’s unfazed.
“You have a phone and a laptop, Tia, I take it you are still allowed to use those?”
“Yes, but he has cameras.” My excuse sounds feeble, and I know in my heart it’s futile resisting the inevitable. I want all of him, too.
“Not while we’re chatting, he won’t. I’m not going to lie and say I’m over the moon with this living arrangement now that this is happening, but twelve months is nothing when we have a whole lifetime together, understand?” The heat that dances between us is stifling, all consuming and like a lit-touched paper, the path of the fire is already racing through my veins.
“So this is happening?” I fail to bite back the smile splitting my face in two.
“Damn right it is.” He smoothly manages to lift me into his lap and sits with his back against my headboard. My knees are tucked up in between his spread legs, one strong arm is holding me firm and sure against his bare chest. He kisses the top of my head, and I tilt back to look up into his eyes.
”Talk to me, Tia.” He leans over to the bedside table and fishes out some cotton wool from a steaming bowl of water. He squeezes it dry and starts to clean the dried blood from my face. He pauses and offers a tender smile that makes my heart ache. He nods, and I draw in a deep breath. I want everything with him. I don’t know if it’s possible but this, at least, is something that I need to face, for me and with him, because more than anything I want there to be an us.
“I was a virgin when I went to prison.” I suck in a sharp breath as the pain of what comes next pierces my walls and reopens the gaping wound that nearly destroyed me. “I wasn’t when I came out.” My voice catches with the surge of bile making me retch. The blood inside me seems to drain from my body, and I can feel that I’m shutting down, just like it used to. I close my eyes and feel the numbing ice in my veins. It’s how I survived.
“Stay with me angel, stay with me. I’ve got you.”