“What the fuck is going on?” he demands into his phone, skipping the hello, or I’ve just missed it.
Logan laughs. “You really are a devil. Fuck yeah, you are. I love it. Right. I won’t forget this.” He must end the call because he physically moves me out of the way of the door. “I figured out how to calm your father down. Gotta run, baby.” He turns away from me and exits the bathroom.
Some part of me must come awake, but I can’t quite escape the hell of the past. Suddenly I spiral back into darkness, and when clarity comes, I’m falling. I land hard at the bottom of a hole, and the pain in my arm and leg is sharp and unbearable. I start to scream.
Chapter Seventeen
PRI
For a moment there is only darkness, inky black darkness. Awareness comes to me with my own screams, and I gasp and sit up straight. In desperation, I scan the room, confirming I am no longer in a deep, suffocating hole. I’m in a room, with Adrian standing at the door with a gun in his hand.
Oh God.
I shift to my knees. “What’s happening? Are we being attacked?”
“You were screaming.”
I blink. “Screaming?”
“Yes, Pri. Holy hell, woman. You were screaming.”
Embarrassment punches at me and I scramble off of the bed. “I’m sorry. Nightmare. God.” I hold up my hands. “I’m sorry. I thought I screamed in the nightmare, not out loud.”
He runs a rough hand through his dark hair and harnesses his weapon. “You scared the fuck out of me. You know that, right?”
Adam appears in the doorway, looking like Mr. America in his green army fatigues, his weapon in hand. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nightmare,” I say. “Sorry, Adam.”
“Nightmare,” he repeats.
“Yes,” I confirm. “Just a nightmare.”
“Must have been a hell of a nightmare,” he murmurs, harnessing his weapon, too.
“Pink killer bunnies,” Adrian supplies, eyeing Adam. “They scare the shit out of her. I found that out the hard way.”
Despite Adrian’s efforts at deflection on my behalf, I find myself folding my arms in front of my chest, huddling into my embarrassment. Still, I manage to fall right into the silly joke. “The nightmares started when my grandma got me pink bunny slippers as a kid.”
Adam looks between us and says, “You’ve both spent too much time around Savage and his wackadoodle sense of humor, which for the record, is not funny.” He glances at Adrian. “I’ll leave you to this.” He gives me a nod and then disappears into the hallway.
And just that easily, I’m all alone with Adrian, in a bedroom, with, of course, a bed. “Sorry again,” I say awkwardly. “Pink killer bunnies really do get to me.”
He steps closer, a lot closer, so close that a mere foot separates us, and the freshly showered, spicy scent of him teases my nostrils and stirs heat in my belly. That is until he says, “What was the nightmare about, Pri?”
“Does it matter?”
He studies me a long, probing moment, his expression unreadable before he presses me again. “What was it about?”
“You know what it was about.” My brows dip. “But—actually, it didn’t start with me in a hole.” I tilt my head and think a moment as a realization comes to me. “Logan was in it.”
“Logan,” Adrian says, and while his tone is flat, there is this sharp disapproving energy about him.
I bristle defensively with that energy, my spine stiffening. “Not in a good way, Adrian. In fact, it was hellish and it was a real memory, and something you don’t know about, nor do I feel inclined to share right now.”
There’s a knock on the door and Adrian grimaces. “Who is it?”
“Adam.” He opens the door and peeks in. “A truckload of Chick-fil-A just arrived, Blake’s way of getting our asses upstairs and back to work.”
“Just the mention of Chick-fil-A makes my stomach growl,” I say, eager to escape this fight with Adrian. “I’m in.”
Not so eager to do the same, Adrian says. “We’ll be right there,” without looking at Adam.
The door shuts and I turn, intending to go to the bathroom. Adrian catches my arm, fire shooting from his touch across my shoulder and chest, which only serves to anger me. “Why are you always trying to stop me from going to the bathroom?” I demand. “And I need to eat. I can’t remember the last thing I actually did eat. “
His jaw flexes and he hesitates. But he releases me. I don’t wait around for him to change his mind about allowing my escape, either. I hurry into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it. What is happening with me and this man? Why are we always a tug of war, push, and pull?
I think of the Logan memory and instead of dwelling on how horrible Logan was, how abusive, something about Adrian stands out. He let me go when I demanded he let me go. Logan didn’t. He wouldn’t. There was more to that memory, but I can’t quite put a finger on what. The entire nightmare is a big fuzzy mess.
I push off the door, use the bathroom, wash up and freshen up, including adding a bit of lipstick to my pale lips, and then I open the door. Adrian is leaning on the wall by the door, and he holds up my phone. “Logan called.”
I snatch my phone. “Because he’s an asshole who wants to use me. I need food.” I start walking.
He straightens, catches the fingers of my hand—just the fingers—I think he feels that’s less of a bullying act, and it actually is. He steps around and into me, close, so close again, all those manly smells working me over again, his height towering over me. “We need to talk,” he says softly.
“You mean fight.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
“But we will fight. We’re very good at fighting. I need food, Adrian,” I say. “If we fight right now, while I’m this hungry, you will surely lose. So, you decide. Fight now, or after I eat my Chick-fil-A sandwich?”
He gives me a heavy-lidded stare and then says, “We’re not done.” And then he releases me, leaving me wondering if he’s talking about the topic of Logan, or us. But I don’t dare ask or push for answers. I do need food. And I need a few minutes to think about what that memory meant. Because it wasn’t about me being fucked in a bathroom while having a panic attack that my fiancé was too arrogant and self-absorbed to realize I was having. That night was a conglomeration of pieces of our relationship that were dysfunctional, and always leading to a split.
Or even the fact that had I been in that bathroom with Adrian, I wouldn’t have resisted. Not even a little. It wasn’t even about Logan’s call and the “devil” remark. It’s about the fact that Logan was upset because my father was upset. Whatever the “devil” said on that phone call made Logan happy. That means he felt it would make my father happy.
This case hits a lot closer to home than I could ever have imagined and now I have to decide what to do about it. I want to call my father and confront him, but I know that’s a bad idea. I have to make everyone in this house, Adrian included, all of whom are trying to protect me and my family, understand how dirty the foundation on which I stand is.
Chapter Eighteen
ADRIAN
I have questions for Pri and things I need to say to her, but I give her the space she’s demanded. It kills me, but I do it. I fall back. I fall into step with her on one flight up and bite back a million questions. Like what the fuck did Logan do to give her nightmares?
Fuck.
I can’t hold back.
“Pri,” I say softly, resisting the urge to capture her hand. “Wait.”
We’re between the first level and the second when she pauses and turns to face me. Her eyes are so damn blue, and she’s so damn beautiful.
I step closer to her and say what’s most important right now. “I’m sorry.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I was an ass in the cave. I was an ass in the room back there, too.”
Surprise
flickers across her face but she quickly says, “I’m sorry, too. And for the record, I’m not sure any man in my life has ever actually apologized. Apology appreciated and accepted.”
“I’ll try not to be an ass anymore.”
She smiles. “You’ll try?”
“I prefer to make promises I can keep. Monsters put me in a bad mood, which brings me to Logan.”
“Adrian—”
“Did he hurt you?” I ask.
“Why are you asking this now?”
“I just need to know if he’s on the list of people I need to kill before I die.”
Her lips quirk. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Is it?”
“Yes, but I’m, ah, I’ m glad to have someone who cares.”
“I do care, Pri.” I catch her hand and immediately let it go. “Fuck. Sorry.”
Her lips curve and she tangles her fingers with mine. Her hand is tiny and soft, and yet, holding it feels so damn big. “I like it when you touch me,” she says, “but we were fighting, and right after that particular nightmare, I needed just a minute to breathe.”
“You two coming?”
At the sound of Blake’s voice, I glance up to find him leaning over the railing. “Yeah, boss,” I say. “On our way.” He disappears and I stroke a lock of hair behind Pri’s ear. “He might have news. We better go up.”
She nods and I lean in, my mouth lingering over her mouth. She presses on my chest, just a tiny bit, enough to get my attention. “I thought we were bad?”
“I have things I’ll say about that later, and I suspect you do, too.”
“I do,” she says. “
“For now, how about I just say this? I’m bad. We are not.”
“If I’m bad, and you’re bad, can we just be bad together?”
I laugh despite myself. “What happened to dirty?”
“Dirty together?” she asks.
“Why, oh why, do you always tempt me so well, Pri?” I kiss her, a low press of tongue to tongue, and her arms wrap my neck, her body softening into mine. I drink her way too long, but not long enough, and then I whisper, “Let’s go upstairs before Savage eats all the Chick-fil-A.”
She pulls back. “That’s actually a real concern. I’m starving.”
I laugh. She’s the only woman who has ever taken me on a full ride of emotions in a lifetime, let alone a few hours. She’s also already darting up the stairs and pulling me along. It feels good to be back on the right side of the law and Pri. Maybe I’ve been wrong about staying away from her because I’m bad. Maybe the very fact that I want and need her is all about me wanting to be on the right side, too. Me wanting to be good.
Maybe I can be saved.
I just hope like hell it doesn’t come with a price she pays.
Chapter Nineteen
ADRIAN
Food is taken seriously with the Walker clan. It comes before conversation. With that in mind, it doesn’t take Pri and me long to claim our side-by-side seats at the double-sized kitchen island, with Blake and Lucifer at their respective endcaps and Adam and Savage across from us. Nor does it take long for us to start stuffing our faces.
“My God,” Pri says, taking a bite of her breaded chicken sandwich. “I love this place. Actually, I just love food in general right now.”
I grab a fry and dip it in ketchup. “There was a family of tomatoes—”
“No,” Savage and Adam say at the same time as Savage adds, “Do not tell that same stupid-ass ketchup joke again. Get a new one.”
“Now I have to hear it,” Pri says, smiling at me. She has a beautiful smile worthy of every joke in my arsenal. “Tell the stupid ketchup joke,” she encourages. “Do it.”
“There was a family of tomatoes,” I say. “A mama, a papa, and four kids.”
Savage groans. “I’ve heard this a hundred times. Every client he’s ever taken care of has heard this joke.”
I ignore him and keep going. “The baby tomato falls behind and the mama is angry. She hurries to the rear and confronts her baby. ‘Ketchup!’”
Pri laughs, a sweet, almost luxurious laugh. “That’s cute.”
Blake snorts. “Cute. See, Adrian? You’re all kinds of fucking cute.”
“The joke, asshole,” I say.
“I’m pretty sure she meant you,” Adam agrees. “Cutie pie.”
Pri laughs. “I’m just going to eat my sandwich, though you’re all pretty cute.”
Savage wiggles his eyebrows. “I am, aren’t I?”
The conversation stays light, but as the food disappears, Blake turns the conversation to business. Because that’s how we work. Eat. Laugh. Work. Repeat. “Pri,” he begins. “My brother Royce’s wife, Lauren, is an ex-ADA. She’s in private practice now. She’s offered her services to you free of charge. She’s eager to meet you when you get to New York.”
And there it is.
The breaking of the ice that will soon become a bomb.
Pri throws her wrapper in a bag. “Thank you and her, Blake,” she says primly, the prim is the part that tells me the explosion is imminent. “That’s generous,” she adds. “and I have no doubt your resources outperform most others. And I know you all want me to be safe.” She looks at me. “I get why, too, I do, and part of me welcomes the idea of safety, which I also have no doubt, I’d have there.”
“But?” I say, inviting her to say her piece, which is a new strategy. The old dragging her to safety if needed didn’t go over well.
“But,” she adds, “if Deleon isn’t coming for me and you, he’s coming for someone else, anyone that might disrupt the trial. And I have you and you have all these resources.”
“I know what you think is going to happen,” I say, and she turns to look at me. “You want to lure Deleon out again.”
“What is wrong with that?”
“If last night proved anything, it’s that Deleon is not stupid. He will always be a step ahead of us if we give him the chance.” I lean in closer to her. “I hurt him badly, Pri. He’ll burrow underground, he’ll heal. He’ll send soldiers, Devil soldiers, one after another, to kill us.”
“Who will go after my staff and the people I love. I can’t ask all of them to stand in bullseye formation while I hide.”
“You’re right,” I say. “They will, but not if I’m present and standing in bullseye formation.”
“You need me,” she says.
I ignore the audience and answer her honestly. “I think I’ve made that pretty clear. Which is why I need you to go to New York.”
“Logan called me.” She glances over her shoulder at Blake. “I’m sure you heard.”
“I did,” he says. “And for the record, he’s shady as shit.”
“I know,” Pri agrees, glancing at me. “The nightmare. I remembered something. The last company Christmas party I attended, Logan and I were still together. He was fighting with my father, which didn’t happen. He’s the golden child, the son my father never had. Then Logan got a call. His mood shifted. He said, ‘you really are a devil’ before he hung up. And then he made amends with my father.”
“You think Logan has a more direct connection to Waters,” Adam assumes.
“Yes,” Pri agrees, and then she looks at me. “I’m worried he has one with my father.”
“I haven’t found one,” Blake interjects.
“No,” Lucifer agrees. “I’ve been working heavily on a link between Logan and Waters, looking for a pipeline. There isn’t one.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” Pri says. “Throwaway phones. Right? Secret emails. Messengers.” She glances at me. “Cabins in names that aren’t your own.”
Blake’s gaze meets mine. “If this were true, how will Waters use this against her?”
I don’t have to think about my answer. I know Waters too well. “It depends on how well her father protected himself,” I say. “If he has
leverage to control Waters, a secret for instance he protects, Waters might consider him off-limits. It might even offer Pri a level of protection she might not otherwise have.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Pri asks.
“Again, it depends. If your father is deeply seeded with a fair number of his allies, people he needs to protect, he still might hesitate to take him down. However, if it comes to D-day, and that’s what it takes to delay the trial to discredit you by connection to your father, he’ll do it.”
She presses her hands to her face and then looks at me again. “I find it hard to believe that my father is involved. They’re trying to kill me. I know he’s a bastard, but I don’t believe he wants me dead.” She stands up. “I know I could be blinded by who he is but—”
“There’s no evidence that’s he’s attached to this,” Blake repeats.
“What about Logan?” I ask, trying to get her the answers she looking for, answers that won’t cut her and make her bleed. “You said he’s shady.”
“Shady as fuck, that fucker,” Savage mumbles. “He’s one I’d enjoy hurting.”
“I claim that job,” I say, eyeing Blake. “What about him? What about Logan?”
Blake points at Lucifer and Lucifer answers with, “He has three clients with connections to Waters. I haven’t found any banking information or electronic connections to Waters, but it doesn’t take even a smart person to see it’s possible.”
She turns fully to me. “Waters could use Logan to ruin my father, and end this trial, correct? He could make it seem like my father’s involved?”
“It’s possible,” I say, catching her hand. “But if I’m a big enough target, they’ll focus on me.”
“And the problem with that is—” She swallows hard and seems to think twice about what she’s about to say. She looks at me. “Can we talk outside, please?”
“Of course,” I say, aware that we’re about to go to war again. She’s right. We’re good at fighting, but then, I’m fighting for her life. I’ve lost too many people. I’m not losing her. And that’s exactly what I’m going to tell her.
When He's Bad Page 8