Capture Me

by Amber Thielman

  Being with Logan was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. It wasn't like being with Ryan; living in his shadow. Being with Logan opened her up, forced her to take control of her emotions and face the world head-on. Being with Logan made her feel sexy—alive. He challenged her, compelled her. She had always read about that feeling. She'd always heard about that so-called forbidden love between two people; a love so intense that it was almost unbearable. She'd only ever heard of it, read about it—until now. And yet this was wrong. It was so wrong.

  She took a calming breath and ran her fingers through her hair. The sex had been phenomenal. If she'd had her way, she would do it all over again. Being intimate with Ryan had not been like that—not even close. Kissing him, hugging him, holding him. It was nothing, nothing compared to the desire she had felt and still felt for the man in the bed. She wanted him. No, she craved him. And why? How could she have let herself fallen into this trap? It was dangerous, and it was sick. He was her captor—her kidnapper—and she had just screwed him. She was the idiot. She was the loser. Logan would move on, abandon her, and she'd be left in the dirt, a scorned puppy dog kicked and beaten down until she was on the brink of death.

  And it was all on her.

  “You okay in there?” A soft rap on the door pulled her back to reality. She splashed some chilly water on her face and yanked her hair back into a bun, feeling anxious. The sound of his voice rattled her, though not necessarily in a bad way.

  “Fine,” she called back. “I'm—fine.”

  Was she? She wished she had concealer with her. A wand of mascara and shimmery eye shadow. She knew that Logan had seen her at her worst, but she still had a strange desire to catch his eye; lure him in.

  Christ. She needed help.

  “I think we need to talk,” he called from the other side of the door. “Will you come out, please?”

  She patted her cheeks to bring the color out and then opened the door, flashing him a smile. She was fucked, and he was fucked, but at least she could be nice about it.

  “What is it?”

  “Come sit down, will you? Please?” His tone, suddenly so serious, forced the grin from her face. She passed him to get to the bed, ignoring the shamble of sheets and blankets that taunted and teased her. She had a strange desire to rip her clothes off where she stood and go at it again, no matter the consequences. But she didn't. She needed to work on that self-control.

  “What's wrong? Why do you look like that?” she asked. Her guard went up suddenly, a wall that over the years had been built up to protect her from fights with Ryan, thoughts of her father, and any insecurity that could turn out bad for her in the end. The wall had been her protector—it was the reason she was so tough. Forcing one's self to be void of emotions instead of wallowing in them was a strategy she had mastered over the years—even now. Even with Logan. No, especially with Logan. She watched him sit down across from her in the office chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. His black hair fell into his eyes, and she resisted the urge to brush it back.

  “My father had money,” Logan said. “He had a lot of money and an even better life insurance policy.”

  “I don't understand.” Kass wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill in the air that had just made an entrance. “If that’s why Laurel framed you, why can’t you just tell them that? Why can't you tell the cops you were drugged?”

  “It doesn't work that way, Kass. They need a confession. I was the party-animal, the troublemaker, and Laurel was the doting wife. Apparently, it’s not beyond me to have a fucking date rape drug in my system.”

  Logan hit the window-pane with the palm of his hand, frustrated. Kass wanted to stand and comfort him, but her better judgment kept her seated where she was. Her doubt was fading, and she knew she believed him. The man she had grown to know, to care about—well, he was no murderer. Somewhere deep inside of her, since the moment she had laid eyes on him—this sad creature standing in the rain—she had known that. Deep down in her heart, she knew that he was innocent. All she'd needed all along was the trust.

  “What are you doing, Logan?” she asked. Kass got to her feet, feeling overwhelmed, but even more, she was suddenly frustrated—angry. “By running away, all you're doing in confirming that you're guilty. Don't you see that?”

  “Who says I'm running?” He turned to look at her. A wisp of dark hair had fallen into his eyes, and in a stupid, fleeting moment she felt her heart flutter against her rib-cage. It didn't matter the situation they were in; he still made her crazy with desire.

  “You've been running since Seattle.”

  “No.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. A jolt of electricity sizzled through her, and she wanted to slap herself—and then slap him, for making her feel that way. “I'm on a mission.”

  “Who are you, Tom Cruise?” she joked. Logan rolled her eyes, and she made a mental note to slap herself later. “Sorry. I say stupid shit when I'm nervous.”

  “You don’t have to be nervous, Kass,” Logan said. “I promise you, I’m innocent. I’m not lying to you. I’ve come to find that I simply can’t lie to you anymore.”

  She pulled away from him, resting her hands in her lap, avoiding his gaze. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore. Could she just take his word for it? She trusted him, yes. She liked him—she liked him a lot. But—

  “Isn't everyone innocent?” she asked. “Or, isn't that what they claim?”

  She hated to stir up emotions. She hated herself for doubting him, but despite how crazy she was for this man, doubt and doubt alone had gotten her through life.

  “You don't believe me,” Logan said. There was anger in his eyes now, but even over anger, there was hurt.

  “I didn't say that,” Kass said, but she realized, in fact, that she had said that—or, awful close.

  “This trip was not random.” Logan sighed and stood up to lean back against the door frame. “I know where Laurel is, and that's why I'm going to Vegas. I'm going to find her.”

  “And then what?” Kass demanded. There was a tight feeling in her chest suddenly; panic. “What are you going to do then, Logan? Kill her?”

  Chapter Twenty

  All it took was just thinking about the bitch, and Logan's temper was past boiling point. He hated that angry side of himself. He got that from his father, and it was a difficult thing to accept. He had never wanted to be like his father. He had hated the man—loathed his very existence. But was that enough to kill him? No. Malcolm Ryder had been a narcissistic asshole through and through, but his death had not been justified. And even above all of that? Neither had Ashley's. Laurel would pay for what she did—Logan would not go down for this.

  “What do you expect you're going to do when you find her?” Kass asked him again.

  She was still sitting on the bed, arms folded stubbornly over her chest. She was back to the old Kass, the stubborn girl with the hot head and the fire in her eyes. He liked that. He was used to that. She was the one he had so unintentionally fallen for. She was the girl who made him crazy inside and out.

  “Are you going to kill her?”

  “God knows I want to,” he said. He knelt in front of his bag, checking for the fourth time to make sure his weapons were securely in place. He would need them where he was going.

  “So then you'll really have blood on your hands when you go back to prison,” Kass said. Her voice was bitter. He couldn't help the smug feeling he got from her words. Did she—care about him? God knew he cared about her. He cared about Kass Harding more than he had ever cared for a woman before. She made him crazy with passion—with desire. She challenged his every move; she made him want to scream and shout and at the very same time laugh and smile and hug her close—and never let her go.

  “I'm not going to kill her, Kass,” he said.

  “What are you going to do, then?”

  “I'm going to get a confession.” It was simple to him, really. That was all he needed from
Laurel before the feds would finally stop trying to run him down, and they could focus on convicting the right fucking person. He had no intention of hurting Laurel. He did not need to hurt her, even though the desire to make her pay for her crime was still strong. She had taken his sister from him. And now, while he ran from the law, looking over his shoulder every second of every day, she was kicking back, watching, and enjoying the fucking ride.

  “That's it?” Kass said. She tilted her head to the side, looking so much like a confused puppy dog that he had to fight to keep from laughing at her.

  “Yes, Kass,” he said. “That's it. I may be an asshole sometimes, but I'm no murderer.”

  “That's not what I meant. I—” She looked flustered, cheeks flaming scarlet as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. He crossed the room and matched his lips to hers, shushing her. He wanted so badly to take her where she stood, to rip off her clothes and never let her go. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not now, not again, not ever.

  Not ever.

  He knew what he had to do. This couldn't keep going on. Logan knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her and it was because of him. He had put himself in a dangerous situation, and he had dragged her down with him. That wasn't fair, especially not to her. Despite how much it pained him—no, killed him—he knew what he had to do. For her sake.

  “Listen to me carefully,” he said. He brushed a strand of her hair behind one ear, then leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin was so soft, so warm. His lips lingered on her skin, and she closed her eyes and sighed dreamily. The thought of never feeling her skin against his again made him sick to his stomach. “This is where I leave you.”

  Her head whipped back suddenly, eyes wide as if he'd just struck her.

  “What?” She pulled her hand away from his, and he could almost see that brick wall of emotions shoot straight up, guarding her. “Leave me?”

  “Yes. Kass, I have to. If something happened to you, it would kill me.” When he reached for her again, she pushed him away, looking repulsed, and he felt as though someone had stabbed him in the chest with a dagger.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You took me hostage, Logan. You put a gun to my head and forced me to drive you across two states, and now this is where you leave me? I don't even know what that's supposed to mean!”

  Her face had reddened like she was ready to burst in a fury. He thought of the kid back in the bar, the one who she'd punched, and he had the desire to take a couple of steps back.

  “Stop yelling,” he said. “Please.” He offered his hand to her, but she refused it, instead pushing past him to sit down on the bed. Every second he could feel her pulling further and further away from him, both emotionally and physically. He hated this—he didn't want to be like Ryan—and yet, that's precisely the position he had put himself in.

  “You had sex with me,” Kass said. “You kidnapped me, you had sex with me, and now you're dropping me off in the middle of fucking nowhere?”

  He sat down next to her on the bed, resisting the urge to reach out and hold her. He knew that if she were angry enough, she would probably slap him—not that he could blame her. He deserved it.

  “You have a life, Kass. You have people who care about your very existence—I'm giving you an out. This is your out. I don't need you anymore.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Pain crossed her expression, a pain that hit him so hard it physically hurt. When he reached out, she scooted away. He had meant none of that but his intention had been to make this easier on them both—and it had backfired.

  “I get it,” she said. He watched her stand and cross the floor, her arms folded, guarding herself. There was no getting through to her now. She was back to that guarded, angry girl who had picked him up in the driveway. “This is such a bizarre situation,” she mused. “Guy takes girl hostage. Girl hates guy. Guy and girl have sex. Girl falls for guy. Guy leaves. You could almost write a book about it.” She was trying to put on a fake bravado, but he could see right through it. The pain and hurt was radiating from her.

  “My intention has never been to hurt you,” he said. “Not in the beginning, and not now. This is how it was going to happen all along, Kass. This is how it's still going to happen. I need to wash my hands of this accusation, and I can't bear to throw you in the middle of it.”

  “It's fine, Logan,” she assured him. She smiled, but it was forced. In the short time he'd known her, he'd learned to figure out that much. “I understand.”

  He was surprised when she crossed back over to him, taking his hands in hers. Her fingers were cold, chilling him. She leaned in, her lips brushing his. As he returned the kiss, she pulled back slightly—teasing him. He caught her chin in his hand, unable to fight the feelings billowing to the surface.

  “I don't love you,” he said. “And you don't love me. We don't even know each other. I took you hostage, Kass, and I was mean to you, and I was rude, and I was angry—and I made a mistake. We both made a mistake. We don't love each other. You know that.”

  “I never said we did.” She brushed away his hand. “We don't have to love each other to make this work, Logan. We're just two people, like any other two people in this world.”

  “Kass, I—”

  “Be quiet.” This time, when she leaned in for another kiss, he didn't pull away. He couldn't pull away. He pulled her into him instead, memorizing the softness of her hair against his cheek, the curves of her body, the heat in her lips.

  “Okay,” he whispered. “You can come with me.”

  In the dead of night, even the outside engulfed in silence, the only sounds to meet his ears were that of passion and desire.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Viva Las Vegas!” Kass poked her head out the passenger's side window, the balmy air pelting against her face. Their mangy yellow dog was in the seat behind her. His head, too, was hanging out the window, a slobbery wet tongue protruding from his mouth. “Vegas, baby!”

  In the driver's seat, Logan laughed.

  “Don't open your mouth too wide,” he called. “You'll get a mouthful of bugs.”

  “Too late.” Pulling her head back in, Kass grimaced as she picked a solid black bug from her mouth. A gnat maybe. Or a fly. Gross.

  “Have you ever been here?” Logan asked. “To Vegas, I mean?”

  “No.” She rolled up the window and cranked the AC, wishing it was at least cooler outside. She had never been one for heat. “I always wanted to go,” she admitted. “But Ryan doesn't like to travel.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “I have no idea.” Kass shrugged, raising her palms to the blast of the cool air from the vent. Under her arms, sweat was pooling. “He traveled a lot with the Navy. But once he was home he didn't leave again. And since he didn't leave, I didn't leave.”

  “That's no way to live,” Logan said, and Kass silently agreed with him. Growing up, she had vowed to see the world. She had dreamed of faraway places and diverse cultures and vacations filled with drinks and music and pictures and memories. Ryan, she realized, had held her back all those years.

  “So, what's the plan when we get to Vegas?” she asked. In the backseat, their yellow dog perked up his ears, familiarizing himself with that name.

  “We're going to get a room,” Logan said. “And we're going to try and have a good time. I'll figure out the rest of it tomorrow.”

  “You'll let me help you, right? With Laurel?” Kass asked. There was a long pause, a silence that made Kass's heart do a tiny, worried little flip. It had taken a lot of energy for Kass to talk Logan into taking her with him. A few times, she had been terrified that he'd bail, leave her back there in the motel room with their new pet and a broken heart. But he hadn't. He'd taken her. And now Kass couldn't shake the feeling he was probably regretting his decision.

  “Yes,” he said finally, but she wasn't sure how much she trusted his word.

  “It'll be fine,” she s
aid. Kass leaned over and rested the back of her knuckle against Logan's cheek, feeling the stubble from his facial hair under her hand. “You can't go alone. It's too dangerous.”

  Instead of answering her, Logan reached one arm back and scratched the dog behind the ears. Then he smiled, but it was forced.

  “No beating people up tonight,” he said to her. “No throwing punches and no picking fights.”

  “Me?” Kass put a hand to her heart, looking mockingly stunned. “I'm a lover, Logan. Not a fighter.”

  Logan scoffed. “You, dear girl, are one of the most terrifying women I have ever met.”

  “Only when I'm angry,” Kass said, and she grinned as Logan reached over and took her hand in his. She squeezed it, and he squeezed back. She was amazed by how aware she was that his hand was resting on her thigh, only inches from the most sensitive part of her body. His hand felt warm over the thin fabric of her jeans, and she felt flushed and woozy. She tried to think of a time when she'd felt like that with Ryan, but she could dig nothing up. From the moment she had met Ryan she'd liked him—then, eventually—she'd loved him. But never had Ryan made her skin tingle and her chest tighten and her stomach do flip-flops. Only Logan did that.

  “There it is,” he said. “You can see the city from here.”

  Squinting, Kass looked into the distance, at the enormous city sprawled out over the desert in front of them. She felt her heartbeat quicken with excitement, and automatically she thought of checking into the hotel room—and taking off all her clothes. Everything else could wait.

  “It's scorching out here,” she said. She stretched her arms, arching her back and pushing her chest out.

  “Christ,” Logan said, and she giggled when he looked away. “Can you at least wait until we get to the room?”

  “I could,” Kass said. She let her hands drop into her lap before sneaking her left hand towards his thigh. She turned in her seat to face him, smiling. “But I don't think I will.”