Pistol Whipped (Love on Target Book 3)

by Ashley Bostock

  “I miss you, Logan,” she whispered.

  He was silent on the other end.

  “Do you miss me at all?” she asked.

  “Like crazy. You know I do.”

  “But how come you wouldn’t tell me just now? Why make me ask?”

  “Because it changes absolutely nothing. It’s hard enough being here, learning my way around REEVES, living in a city that isn’t me. I don’t need my feelings for you fucking with my head on top of all the other shit I have going on.” He wasn’t yelling, but his tone was harsh.

  “You have feelings for me?” she asked innocently.

  “Don’t play dumb, Cinderella. You know I do. How could I not? You’re so fucking beautiful and smart. With just a simple touch, you come alive in my hands and it’s killing me right now, that I can’t touch you.”

  Wow. His words melted her heart. She hadn’t expected any of it when he hadn’t been able to admit he even missed her. Momentarily speechless, she rubbed her aching elbow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My elbow hurts and that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” She started to cry again.

  “Jesus, Gabbie. I didn’t fucking say it to make you cry again. You asked.”

  “I know, but I wasn’t expecting those nice words. I’m crying too because my elbow hurts and I’m emotional. Poor Lolita!”

  “Is it cracked?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. If it continues to hurt, maybe I will go to the doctor.”

  “Fuck. If I were there, I would be taking you to Urgent Care, right now.”

  She stayed silent as she contemplated the idea of him being there, looking out for her. She thought about how different tonight would have been because had Logan been with her, she probably wouldn’t have gone back to retrieve her phone. Had she though, he would have most likely been the one to go inside Lolita and get it for her. He would be there now, letting her mess up his shirt while she cried. Then, hopefully they would both be sleeping in each other’s arms after they had made sweet passionate love. Yes, if he were here, tonight would’ve ended a little differently.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

  “Indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Logan paced around in his office the following morning. The sun shone through the slats of the blinds over the windows and every so often a striking auburn-haired woman walking alone on the street below would sidetrack him. Gabriella had been all he could think about since he left Windsor. He’d been angrier than he’d let on about her keeping her pregnancy from him. Angry wasn’t even the right word.

  He was hurt.

  He didn’t care that she had accidentally gotten pregnant or even that she’d wanted to get an abortion. He was hurt she had gone through one of the most trying times of her life and kept it in the dark, kept it from him because she was worried he would judge her. The idea that she’d thought he would do that to her altogether made him steaming mad. He wanted to defend himself, tell her all the reasons she should have trusted him, how she hadn’t even given him a chance to have an opinion, but he couldn’t. It was all in the past. Nothing could be un-done at this point and did it change the way he felt about her? No.

  Ever since she’d called last night crying to him about the break-in, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Something like that wouldn’t have happened to her if he had been there. He would have been there too. Because he would’ve been spending every free moment he had with her.

  He felt like he was in the depths of hell being tortured by soulless phantoms he couldn’t see. All because he lived seventeen hundred miles away and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help Gabriella. Help her, see her, comfort her…fuck her. Her tempting body had teased him every single night for almost a month—when he was awake as well as when he’d finally fallen asleep.

  She had more power over him than she knew. He’d never felt this way about a woman. And it was so easy. Funny thing was, when they were in bed, she always thought he was the one in control, but he wasn’t. She was. She held all the power. She held the reins and it was all he could do to hang on.

  An ugly realization came upon him then. She had his heart. Only her. It would only ever be her. He had no fucking business feeling this way for God’s sake. Maybe he needed to get laid—put an end to Cinderella invading his mind once and for all.

  “Logan? Mr. Reeves?”

  Logan blinked his eyes, coming out of his daydream focusing on the sound of his name. It was coming from his desk phone. He cleared his throat and went to his desk. He pressed down the two-way button that allowed the person beeping in to hear him on his end. “This is Logan.”

  “Logan. It’s Suzanna, from the reception desk.”

  He knew exactly where she was located in the building. Since he’d come back, she’d practically thrown herself at him every chance she got. When he first met her, he’d found her attractive, and she still was attractive, but she wasn’t his type. She always dressed in perfectly tailored black clothes, her blonde hair was never out of place and her bright red lipstick was never smudged or missing for that matter. She was the epitome of high maintenance.

  High maintenance was the last thing he needed.

  He liked low-maintenance women. He preferred brunettes to blondes and he absolutely liked some curves on a woman. Suzanna was rail thin. He didn’t particularly care for that in a female. He wanted something to hold, curves to caress and long thick hair to run his fingers through.

  Gabriella.

  “Logan?”

  “Sorry, Suzanna. Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes,” she giggled. “I was wondering, ah, hoping actually, that you were free this weekend and maybe would want to go to the East Village with me?”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a feeling this was going to happen at some point. “I can’t, Suzanna. I’m sorry. I’m actually going back to Colorado this weekend. Maybe when I get back some of us can all go out together.”

  Am I going to Colorado? He had no plans to. Fuck, he didn’t even have a plane ticket. But the minute the idea was formed in his head, he knew it was the truth. Suzanna was saying something about a new bar in the East Village when he cut her off. “I’ve gotta go, Suzanna. Another call. We’ll talk soon.”

  He pressed the disconnect button, retrieved his credit card from his wallet and called the listed frequent flyer number connecting him to the airline. It was Wednesday and panic clogged his throat. He had to get a flight out of here. The automated system patiently asked for his flyer number and whether he was calling for a new reservation, a current one or something else. He pressed the proper buttons, repeated his flyer number three times and finally, when he was almost at wits’ end, a customer service representative came on the line.

  “I need a flight to Denver from La Guardia, please. It doesn’t matter what it costs or what day—Thursday or Friday. But please find me something. This is an emergency.”

  Securing a plane ticket, Logan hung up the phone. Was he crazy? He just spent an ungodly amount of money to fly home for…for what actually? What was he going to do once he got there?

  “Logan?”

  Logan glanced up to see Jack standing in his doorway. “Hey Pops. Come in. What can I do for you? If this is about Hiroshi, I’ve spoken with him multiple times—”

  Jack waved his hand in his face. “It’s not about Hiroshi, Logan. I came in earlier, but you were on the phone. Sounds like you were reserving a flight back to Colorado?”

  “Yeah, this weekend. There’s something I need to take care of there.”

  “Tell me, what’s got you down, son?”

  “Nothing.” Was he that transparent?

  “That face doesn’t belong on a man who’s got no worries.” His father bent over and peeked through his blind. “It’s New York, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not your home. That’s what I
mean. I might work a lot and I may not have been with you every second of your life while you were growing up, Logan, but I’m pretty perceptive when it comes to you. I can read you fairly well. Come on, you don’t think I can see that you’re miserable here?”

  Logan swallowed. Under normal circumstances he might have felt a little awkward but because his father’s observations were dead-on accurate, he couldn’t come up with a response. “It’s fine, I—”

  “—Don’t lie to me, boy.” Jack’s stern voice reminded Logan of his childhood. “I can see it. These past few weeks you’ve hardly slept. You haven’t touched any of the food at the house. The bottom line is you haven’t been living. You’ve been going through the motions of day-to-day life, but nothing more. This is my fault, too. I blame myself.”

  “Dad.” Gosh, Logan felt terrible. Like he was already letting his dad down. He wanted his father to be proud of him, wanted to give him what he wanted. He wanted his father happy. “I’m not miserable. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Maybe not miserable, but not great either.” Both men sat on the black leather couch Logan had in his office.

  “This isn’t home to you, and I do blame myself. I wanted you to work here. I’ve always had a dream that you and I could work together some day and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He chuckled. “I even sicced Hiroshi on you in the hopes he could actually change your mind about working for me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pressuring you into something your heart isn’t in to.”

  Logan stared at his father. Was it possible for a man to age in one sitting? The creases around his eyes seemed deeper, his hair a tad bit greyer. “I don’t know what to say, Dad.”

  “You don’t have to say much. I know I’m right. That has been one thing I’m proud to say about you, that I can read you pretty well. It was my fault for pushing you into this. I just wanted to know there would be someone I could trust to work at the firm and you’re it.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but thanks. Aren’t you going to retire soon?”

  “Look at this old man. Hell no, I can’t retire. I’m a workaholic. Maybe some day in the near future. I met a woman and she likes to travel. I might try to take more time off and join her.” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Logan contemplated their conversation. This was Logan’s chance if he wanted one. His father was giving him an out, a chance to go back home. But did he want to take it?

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you, I absolutely love your store! And this new line, Possessive? My husband loves it too.”

  Warmth spread across Gabriella’s chest as the woman’s face lit up in pure joy. This was one of the main reasons she owned a store like this: it made women happy. The no-strings-attached feel good feeling of pure joy. She loved it. She handed over the woman’s bags and thanked her again for shopping at Lolita’s.

  It was almost closing time and she’d had a hell of an afternoon. She packed up her belongings to take home with her, tidied up the store, closed out her register system and headed home. Home alone. With the break-in and Logan moving, she’d been emotional more than what was acceptable for her.

  She didn’t like feeling…mixed up, desperate, scared, unwanted—many different emotions coursed through her body at any given time and all she really felt like doing was hiding in her closet. Much like a temperamental child would. Ahh, but she knew that would get her nowhere.

  After her bath, she put on her t-shirt and gym shorts—the same pajamas she’d worn with Logan when they went to Japan. The ones that he so effectively got her out of. She bent her head down, pushing her nose into the fabric of her shirt, unconsciously hoping that they would smell like him but all they smelled like was the fresh scent of clean laundry. Just as she considered changing, her phone rang. It was him.

  “Hello?”

  “Gabbie. Hey…where are you?” His voice was low, quiet, he didn’t sound quite right.

  “I’m home, why?”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Her heart dropped. “Where are you?”

  “At Lolita’s.”

  Without thinking she shoved her feet into her flip-flops she kept by her front door and grabbed her purse and keys. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Logan shut his truck off and stepped out into the cool night air. It smelled good to be home. New York did not smell like Colorado. There was a garden scent here, maybe it was from nearby cornfields, and you couldn’t smell humidity—nor could you smell sewer—like you sometimes could in New York. Logan stretched his arms above his head and marveled at all of the stars in the sky. Stars you could see because there wasn’t much light blocking them out. He tried telling Gabbie he would head to her condo, but she cut him off so fast, he had no choice but to wait here.

  No way in hell was he going to risk missing her.

  Not after the crappy flight he’d been on and the terrible drive from the airport home where he’d found himself stuck in traffic on one of those shuttle drop-off buses. It had been a nightmare.

  Breathing in the fresh scent, he walked up to the back door of Lolita’s. Interesting. It stood open, slightly ajar, with the key still stuck in the lock. Had Gabriella gotten sidetracked and forgotten she was in the act of locking the door when she’d left? She couldn’t have been in that big of a hurry. Could she have been? She had probably been on the phone with Amber or Brandi when she left and had thought she shut it tight enough to catch. He found it strange that her key was still in the lock though. He once again wished she hadn’t hung up so quickly on him.

  Pushing open the door, the hinges creaked announcing his arrival. In the dark, he could make out the shapes and features of her store—everything he knew by heart appeared to be where it should. As he fumbled along the side of the wall, trying to locate her light switch with his free hand, the sound of running water caught his attention and for a brief second he glanced over his shoulder only to be assaulted by a cloud of white smoke. Argh, his eyes were stinging. He became too disoriented to flip the light switch on. What the fuck was that? It wasn’t smoke, it was a cool substance although it continued to irritate his eyes, making them watery as hell.

  Fire extinguisher. It had to be what it was. Where did Gabriella keep hers? His thoughts couldn’t be formulated enough to come up with an answer as he breathed in the cool powder and tried to blindly fight his way out of it. With his eyes closed, still stinging like hell, the powdery residue was attaching onto his skin. His heart beat with sickening thuds as he considered the possibility of what this desperate person might do.

  The intruder pushed him from behind and Logan fell flat on his face—his eyes still seeking relief from the spray.

  “What the fuck do you want, man?”

  Was this the same person who’d broken into her store the other night? He blindly turned around hoping to see the intruder. He tried opening his eyes, squinting into the still dark room and could only barely make out a dark figure. What dim moonlight there was, shone through the open door but only darkened the man’s appearance, making any type of facial recognition impossible.

  “How do I get in the safe?” the man demanded.

  Logan knew how to get in the safe. He didn’t know if Gabriella actually knew he knew the code, but he’d watched her lock it and unlock it so many times, he couldn’t help but know it.

  “I don’t know. This isn’t even my business.”

  “Tell me!” the man demanded again.

  Logan considered his options. He could tell the intruder he knew the code and be able to get up and maybe take him by surprise. But then what? Even if he was able to get the upper hand, its not like anyone knew they were in here rolling around in the dark. Gabriella. She would be here any minute and would get caught up in this lunatic’s plan. Shit. His eyes were much better, still watery, but at least he was able to keep them open. The fire extinguisher had made a mess of her back room. The powder was everywhere.

  Logan stalled. �
��I don’t know the code. I don’t even work here. I came to meet a friend.” Shit, make something up. And fast. “I came to meet a friend but once I got here, she cancelled. Honest, I don’t know the code.”

  Was the man holding a gun? Shit no, it was a butcher knife. Desperation rose in Logan’s throat as he considered his options. Would this guy really try to stab him to death? And Gabriella was going to show up at any given moment and the chances of this psycho hurting her were pretty good.

  Think, Logan.

  He nonchalantly surveyed his surroundings, looking for a weapon—any weapon, he could use on the guy and gain the upper hand. Was that a paintbrush? Fuck, what the fuck could he do with a paintbrush? His mind continued to race as he considered the possibilities and options he had available to him. The sad truth was he didn’t have a whole lot to work with. There wasn’t anything in his immediate vicinity he could latch onto. And making any sudden movements would only create more trouble.

  “I’m in no mood for games, man. Give me the code and I will get outta here. Hurry up! Get up!” He kicked Logan in the leg. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Gabriella pulled into the alley wondering how Logan could have possibly gotten into Lolita before she’d gotten there. And why hadn’t he turned any lights on? “Logan, you can’t surprise me, I already know you’re here.”

  She grabbed her purse and headed for the back door but the second she got within earshot she could hear men’s voices. One of the men was yelling. “I’m in no mood for games, man. Give me the code and I will get outta here. Hurry up! Get up!”

  Gabriella gasped, how could this be happening again? She slid back against the outside wall, opened her purse, grabbed her phone and dialed 9-1-1 and, leaving the phone on, she pressed the volume down—just in case—and shoved it back into her purse. Then as quietly as she could, she unzipped the secret compartment inside her purse and grabbed her gun.

  What was she going to do? She couldn’t kill the guy. She kept the safety on because she had a bullet in the chamber. Despite what some people’s opinions were about carrying a weapon around with a bullet in the chamber, she did. She didn’t have children in her life and because it was her safety, she kept it in there at the ready. She couldn’t possibly use the gun on this man though. But she had to help Logan! With her nerves bundled in tight knots, she quickly glanced around the doorjamb into her store.