“Didn’t Shane tell you?” she said.
“Tell me what?”
“He saved you, Logan.”
He froze at that and cold settled like a lead weight in his gut. “What are you talking about?”
She was silent for a moment and he wanted to shout at her to spit it out. “The fire,” she began. “Dom was with Shane that day of the fire.”
She was talking about the day he’d been shot by Sam who’d then left him for dead in his burning bar as he tried to abduct Savannah. She’d been fortunate enough to escape Sam and he’d perished in the very fire he’d set. He and Savannah would have died too if Shane and his friend hadn’t gotten them out.
“I didn’t know his name,” Logan muttered stupidly.
“Dom broke the window to get in. He carried you out.” He heard Savannah choke up at the memory – a memory he didn’t share because he couldn’t bring anything from that day forth. “You weren’t breathing so Dom did CPR till the paramedics arrived.”
Jesus. Logan felt his knees start to give out and he locked them so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. What the hell was happening? His vision actually stared to dim as he tried to collect the pieces of truth that slammed into him one by one. Dominic Barretti had saved his life, then hired him to help him fuck his wife. And then he’d blown everything Logan knew about himself apart with one touch of his lips.
Logan was barely aware of Savannah’s voice as she talked about the funeral. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he said quietly without looking at her. He gave her a brief hug, ignored her calling his name and then headed towards the back of the bar. The jingle of the bell above the front door told him Savannah had either left to wait out front for Shane or Shane had arrived – Logan didn’t care which one it was because he needed to escape.
Locking himself in the bathroom, he turned on the water with the intent of sticking has face under the faucet, but then his stomach got the better of him and he leaned over the toilet and threw up everything in it. He heaved over and over long after everything was gone, then collapsed on the floor as tears streamed down his face. Sylvie Barretti was gone. Harsh sobs wracked his whole body as an image of her kind eyes and gentle touch flashed through his brain and then he curled up into a ball on the dirty and floor and let everything else go.
***
Logan enjoyed the burn as the alcohol flooded his system. It was the first time he’d felt warm since Savannah had stunned him with the news of Sylvie’s death and the revelation that Dom had been playing a part in his life far longer than he’d thought. Logan slammed down another long drink of the whiskey and then sighed as more heat filtered through his numb arms and legs. He didn’t drink often, but as the alcohol started to take away the pain, he began to wonder why he didn’t partake more often.
Nothing could have prepared him for today – nothing. The funeral had been soul-wrenching, but it was the sight of the widower that had done Logan in. He hadn’t actually attended the memorial service at the church, but he had watched the gravesite burial from a distance. It had been cowardly, but he couldn’t find the strength to face Dom and try to find some inconsequential words that would somehow lessen the pain of losing his wife. But if he thought distance would protect him from having to feel too much, he’d been wrong again.
If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have recognized Dom as the one who’d lost his wife. He’d been stiff and imposing throughout the entire ceremony, his eyes staring blankly ahead, his face impassive. Even a typical Seattle downpour in the middle of the ceremony had failed to elicit a reaction from the man and as others opened the umbrellas they had toted along, Dom had stood there, hands clasped in front of him, water streaming down his head and face. He’d been surrounded by people, but was completely alone. Few people had even had the nerve to approach him after the service was over.
Long after all the mourners were gone, Logan had watched from his perch at the top of the hill overlooking the endless grave markers. Dom had remained standing there, his eyes unseeing as the men finally gave up trying to wait Dom out and lowered the casket into the ground. When they reached for the shovels to start covering the gaping hole, Logan had found himself moving then, his intent to force Dom away. But the man had finally turned away on his own as the dirt hit the gleaming coffin.
Logan had turned to go as well, but stilled when he sensed that gaze on him, the one he’d come to feel in his dreams. Sure enough, when he turned his eyes caught on Dom’s. There was still nothing there – no acknowledgement or recognition. They were dozens of yards apart, but it might as well have been miles for all the response he got from Dom. And then he was gone and Logan had found himself making his way to the gravesite, the bouquet of fresh flowers clutched in his hands.
The headstone had been simple and elegant, much like the woman it represented. He had placed the bouquet in front of it and then watched as the men finished their work. Afterwards, he’d sought the escape of his bar and the limitless alcohol it offered, but he felt himself easing off after his third swig. His thoughts drifted to where they always did now and he wondered if someone was there to take care of Dom. He hadn’t seen anyone that acted like family at the service, but Dom had been so detached that he’d treated everyone the same – as strangers. Savannah and Shane had been there and his sister had clearly tried to offer comfort when she’d reached out to Dom. He hadn’t physically rebuffed her, but his silence had spoken volumes and his sister and Shane hadn’t lingered.
Logan recapped the bottle and shelved it, then cleaned the glass he’d been using. He heard the bell above the door indicate someone’s presence and he cursed himself for forgetting to lock it. The closed sign had been in the window for nearly two months now while he tried to clean the place up, but every once in a while someone wandered in looking for a party.
He was about to tell the person to get lost, but stopped when he took in the man’s appearance – old, balding with a little bit of a pooch, briefcase in hand. Definitely not the standard bar goer.
“Can I help you?” Logan asked.
“Logan Bradshaw?”
Logan nodded and watched in irritation as the guy looked around the bar, the walls still blackened with soot. Clearly the man had a dozen questions, but he seemed smart enough to keep his mouth shut about how shitty the place looked.
“My name is Walter Jessup,” he said as he dropped his briefcase on the bar and began rifling through it. He stuck out a business card for Logan, then did some more rummaging.
Logan glanced at the card. An attorney – no surprise there.
Walter pulled out an envelope and then snapped his briefcase closed. “This is for you,” he said as he handed Logan the envelope.
Logan’s name was scrawled on the front and a chill went through him at the clearly feminine handwriting. “What is it?” he asked, handling the envelope like it was a bomb.
“My instructions were just to deliver the envelope, Mr. Bradshaw. I am unaware of its contents,” the lawyer said as he turned to leave.
Logan ignored him and carefully opened the envelope, his fingers shaky. It was a couple pieces of thick stationary and the second he unfolded it, he saw the initials in gold foil along the top. SAB. “Oh, God,” Logan muttered as he closed the letter back up and tried to catch his breath. This couldn’t be happening.
He should throw it away – shred it, burn it. He knew instinctively that if he read it, it would cost him more than he wanted to give. He sucked in a deep breath and then opened the letter and began reading.
Dear Logan,
I suspect this letter is taking you a bit by surprise. You probably thought you wouldn’t have to hear from us again after last night – our amazingly beautiful night. It was more than I could have asked for. But it also told me what I needed to know.
Dom’s asleep right now. It’s the first time he’s slept in a really long time and I’m guessing it will be the last for a while. What happened between the three of us last night has given me something I haven’t had
in a really long time – hope.
So, I have a favor to ask and since you’re reading this it means that if you say no, you’re saying no to a dead woman. And if I have learned anything over these past months, it’s hard to say no to a dying person much less a dead one.
My favor is that you just listen.
I told my husband a little white lie when I asked him to indulge my fantasy of bringing another man into our bed for one night. I didn’t ask him to do it for me, I asked him for him. I’ve known for a very long time that Dom gave up a part of himself to be with me and I know he has no doubts about his choice – he’s loved me in a way that a person can only dream of being loved. But I needed to be sure and that’s where you came in.
Your sister may have told you by now that our finding you was no accident. We met Savannah and Shane a couple of months ago. I’ll let her give you the details, but we were quite enamored with them – they reminded us of ourselves when we were younger…so much in love, but struggling to find each other. So when Shane asked Dom for help in finding the man who hurt your sister, he didn’t hesitate. It’s in his nature to protect the ones he cares about, after all. But digging into Savannah’s past meant digging into yours as well.
And that’s when I saw things change in Dom and after he told me what you did on the side to earn money, a plan began to take shape. I am ashamed to admit that I used his obsession with you without giving much thought to how it would affect you and it is something I will have to live (and die) with forever. But when I saw the two of you together last night, it was more than I could have hoped for. You felt it, didn’t you? That thing that happens inside when Dom is around. Like he becomes part of you and you can start breathing again.
I don’t know anything about your situation Logan, and I don’t presume to either. I hadn’t planned to reach out to you after last night, but as I said, you’ve given me hope. Hope that Dom can have a life after I’m gone. Hope that he can let me go even as his love stays with me.
He will hurt, Logan – a man that loves with the passion that he does will hurt in equal measure. I don’t want him to be alone. At least not in the beginning. But he will push everyone away and they’ll go.
So that’s where my second favor comes in. And remember, dead woman asking.
Make sure he’s okay, Logan. Don’t let him disappear into himself. Even if what I saw last night wasn’t what I think it was, I need him to have someone and I think he’ll let you in.
Please try, Logan. Please. This is the only way I can fight for him now, but I can’t do it by myself. Even if it is just friendship that you can offer – just don’t let him be alone.
When you see him, please tell him something for me. Tell him to keep his promise. Thank you, Logan. Thank you.
Sylvie
P.S. – Dom will be at our house in the San Juans. I’ve enclosed the address and the codes that will get you past the security system. And don’t worry about the dog – he’s a big old softie…but bring a pack of hot dogs anyway; they’re his favorite.
Chapter 2
The softie turned out to be a giant Rottweiler and Logan watched apprehensively as it stared at him through the thin glass of the car door window that separated them. The code Sylvie had given him had gotten him through the front gate, so it was reasonable to think that what she’d said about the dog would be true, but seeing the huge teeth that the animal had flashed when it opened its jaws to bark at him had him reconsidering. It was yet another sign that he shouldn’t be here – that he should have folded that letter back up, stuffed it into the crisp white envelope it had come in and buried it as far down in the garbage can as it could go.
But he’d done none of those things. Instead, he’d read it again, then a third time. By the time he reached the end of the last reading, he’d actually heard her broken voice begging him to check on Dom. So he’d gotten in his car, stopped at the store for the damned hot dogs and then driven the nearly two hours to the ferry terminal in Anacortes where he just made it onto the ferry that would take him to the islands. He’d had dozens of opportunities to turn around and had done so twice, but something kept digging at his insides and he’d ended up heading north until he finally rolled his car onto the huge boat packed full of vehicles and tourists. And as he watched the ferry dock in the small town of Friday Harbor get closer and closer, his anxiety grew. It was for Sylvie, he kept telling himself, but he knew that was a lie. It was for himself…it was for Dom.
Now he literally sat at the threshold of what could be his own personal hell and there was an actual fucking beast guarding the gates. He glanced at the house and then back at the dog. No one had appeared at his arrival a few minutes ago and he figured no one would, so he either needed to bite the bullet and do this or turn tail and run. He wanted to do the latter, but knew it had less to do with the dog and everything to do with avoiding the man who stirred up so many unwanted and unwelcome feelings.
Logan rolled the window down slightly and tore a hot dog free from the package. He dropped it outside, then watched the dog gobble it up, then sit politely on its haunches as if asking for more. Swallowing hard, he reminded himself not to show fear (easier said than done) and reached for the door handle. As he opened it, the dog watched him silently – there was no growling or raised hackles, but no wagging tail either.
“Nice dog,” he mumbled as he forced himself out of the car, another hot dog at the ready. He tossed it to the animal who was now just a couple feet away, but to his horror, the Rottweiler ignored it, then stood and moved closer to him, its dark eyes watching him. Shit, was he supposed to look away? Wasn’t this some kind of play for dominance? Why hadn’t he watched more Animal Planet instead of ESPN? He remained frozen in place as the dog sniffed him and then felt a surge of panic at the thought the dog might take a piss on him to mark him as his territory. He almost laughed at the thought. Several long seconds passed before the dog finally nudged the package of hot dogs in his hand and Logan handed him one. Two bites and it was gone. He felt his body relax as the animal leaned into him, nuzzled the hand holding the hot dogs, then waited expectantly. Another hot dog and then he was actually stroking the huge dog’s head. Point to Sylvie – the dog was a softie.
Logan turned to look at the estate. He couldn’t just call it a house because it was so much more than that. The iron gate that no one had answered and he’d been forced to use the code to get past, was almost a mile down the driveway. The house itself sat on at least a dozen acres on the northern most point of the island and there were no immediate visible neighbors that he could see. Tall pine trees covered most of the property as if protecting the large, contemporary structure from prying eyes. There was what Logan assumed was a guest house off to one side and a monstrous garage on the other that he could only guess could hold several cars at once. The dark waters beyond the house were framed by an endless line of snow covered mountains.
At his inattention, the dog pulled the package of hot dogs from his hand and finished them off, then sniffed around Logan for more. It was only the falling of raindrops that reminded him that a storm was brewing in the turbulent clouds above his head. Logan closed his car door, then hurried to the front door. Within moments of stepping under the archway, the skies opened and rain fell in torrents around him. He knocked, then tried the doorbell, but several minutes passed with no response. He searched out the piece of paper he’d written the codes on and punched the numbers for the house into the keypad by the door. A distinctive click followed and he was pushing the door open. The dog immediately trotted inside and Logan followed, his eyes scanning for any sign of life.
It was an open floor plan on the main part of the house and floor to ceiling glass windows lined the back of the structure. He made a quick tour of the lower level which included dark wood floors with contrasting wood paneled walls. The living room sported plush white furniture along with flashes of colorful accents and artwork – evidence of a woman’s touch, he guessed. A stone fireplace set against the far w
all reached all the way to the ceiling. The kitchen was a chef’s wet dream and sported double ovens, and commercial grade, stainless steel appliances. Any doubts he’d had about Dom and Sylvie’s level of wealth were gone in an instant – they were in a stratosphere where few were lucky enough to go.
“Dom,” he called quietly as he cleared each room. There were no bedrooms on the first floor, so he began the climb to the second level. Curiously, the dog had stayed with him rather than searching out his owner. He’d passed the dog’s food bowl in the kitchen and had noticed that someone had set a huge, full bag of dog food down next to the bowl and just ripped it open rather than pouring a set amount of food into the dish. It didn’t bode well that it was apparently too much effort to feed the animal on a regular schedule.
Logan reached the top of the stairs and couldn’t help but notice how many pictures there were of Dom and Sylvie and what he assumed were other family members. Other men with Dom when he was younger – brothers maybe – an older couple with four small boys, Sylvie as a teenager, shots of Dom and Sylvie on their wedding day…the photos were endless and seemed to tell a story as he made his way down the hallway and peeked into each room as he passed.
When he reached the last door at the end of the hall, he knocked softly, but heard nothing.
“Dom, it’s Logan,” he said as he turned the knob. The rain on the roof was nearly deafening now and he heard thunder rumble as he pushed the door open. It didn’t get more ominous then that, he thought to himself as he entered the bedroom. It was bigger than the first floor of his own small house and he took in the king sized bed, seating area across from a massive flat screen TV, dual walk in closets and a door to his left that he assumed was the master bathroom. Glass crunched under his feet and he stopped and then saw the reason. More framed pictures, dozens of them, lay strewn across the floor where they’d been smashed against the wall, glass sprinkled over the hardwood floor. Most of the pictures were of Dom and Sylvie, happy, smiling, in love. Pain lurched through Logan at the sight of Sylvie’s bright smile and Dom’s devoted expression as he gazed at his wife. The instinct to run hit him again at the evidence of the devastating destruction.
Logan's Need Page 3