by Ilsa Ames
But still, there were worse environments to be a prisoner in. And there were definitely worse captors to be held by. My thoughts wandered back to that almost-kiss—the way my lips had brushed against his, the sensation of his strong, muscular arms encircling me….
I shivered at the memory of it. At the thought of his intense eyes, bearing down into my own, the desire plain to see in them. I was going to have to be careful around him, or something was going to happen that was really going to complicate things.
…Something that lit a spark inside of me, even as I tried to snuff it out.
Logan had mentioned that he had clothes for me, and I searched through the big dresser against one wall. There were jeans, sweatpants, tops, sweaters. Most of it looked to be my size, which of course lead me to wonder just how he’d managed to find that out. I mean, stalker much?
…Hot stalker?
But, fresh clothes were fresh clothes, and honestly, none of it was too awful. Maybe a few seasons out of date, but I didn’t foresee any fashion shoots in my immediate future, so they would do just fine.
I laughed to myself as I brushed my hair and got changed for bed.
Am I going insane? What do they call it… Stockholm Syndrome? Where people fall in love with the people who kidnapped them?
I definitely wasn’t falling for Logan, that was for damn sure. But the more time I spent around him, the less I hated him. If I’d met him in one of the swanky cocktail bars in the city, things could have been completely different. I mean he had that rugged, woodsman look that was so different from the soft and pampered rich guys that I normally came into contact with, and it was seriously hot. Hell, he had even unironically been wearing a flannel shirt that evening, and it takes a special kinda handsome to pull off that lumberjack look without looking like a poser jackass.
I lay there in a kind of confused silence, noting the complete lack of cricket sounds from outside with a mournful sigh. Dad had taken me ‘camping’ once when I was a little kid. No little tents for the Canonellis, of course, we’d taken a huge and luxurious Winnebago, and daddy’s private chef had made the s’mores for me himself. But I would always remember the soothing sound of the crickets at night, and their absence here in these woods was jarring.
I eventually fell into a fitful sleep full of dark, hot, and all sorts of mixed-up dreams.
The morning brought sunlight and the smell of sizzling bacon. I woke and stretched, confused for a few moments about where I was. The bed was warm and comfy, the room cozy, and the breakfast smelled divine.
Then the reality of the situation all came flooding back in an instant.
Oh yeah. I’m a prisoner against my will and my dad turns out to be a callous, uncaring asshole who cares more about money than his only daughter.
Nothing like a little dose of harsh reality to wake you up in the morning.
I forced myself out of bed with a groan, found a change of clothes and a towel, and stumbled into the shower. Thankfully it was powerful and hot, and it felt freaking amazing to wash away two nights of grime. I almost felt human again as I stepped out and stared at myself in the mirror. Some dark rings under my eyes showed that the stress of my situation was taking its toll, but other than that I looked fine.
A good thing too. Hot-stalker Logan might’ve prepared some clothes for me, but I really doubted he knew all the details of my skincare regimen.
There were in fact, no creams, lotions, or anything else of the sort in the bathroom. I wasn’t surprised. Logan didn’t really strike me as the preening type. I toweled off, dressed, and wandered back into the living room-slash-dining area.
He was wolfing down his food as he poured over some paperwork. When I entered the room, he mumbled “food’s there” through a mouthful of bacon, not even looking up from whatever he was reading.
The breakfast was hearty and wholesome, and I surprised myself by eating every last bite, along with the black coffee he’d brewed. Once I was finished, I washed the plate, put it away, and then stood there, hands shoved into pockets, wondering what exactly I was supposed to do with myself. All of the windows were barred from the outside, and every exterior door was locked. Logan looked up from his paperwork as I tried the main entrance, wiggling the handle futilely.
I turned to him, hands on hips, annoyed.
“Look, I know I’m supposed to be a prisoner, but couldn’t you make some effort to make the place not feel like a jail? I mean, come on... bars on the windows, keeping me locked up inside? I already told you I’ll help you.”
He finished his mouthful and stood.
“First off,” he said, “the bars are for bears. Or rather, I should say, they’re to stop bears from coming in and fucking our shit up. I know you like to make everything about you, but the bars were here before you came, and they’ll be here after you’re long gone.”
Ouch.
“Secondly,” he went on, warming to his theme, “I’m really appreciative that you’re able to see the havoc your father and his corporation are wreaking here, I really am. I think it’s great that we can work together on this, and that you’ll help me to get your father to listen.” He smiled thinly. “But I wasn’t born yesterday. Until I get concrete proof that daddy is gonna stop dumping his toxic crap all over my forest, you’re not leaving this cabin. Sorry, but that’s the way it’s gonna be.”
He folded his arms like some sort of school teacher lecturing an unruly student, and his stance told me that he wasn’t going to budge.
I sighed in annoyance and flung myself down on the couch.
“So what am I meant to do? Just sit here and rot until my asshole dad decides to grow a conscience?”
Logan smiled. Ugh. Damn that was it was a nice smile.
Yep, definitely worse people to be locked up inside a cabin in the middle of nowhere with.
“Well, I’ve got plenty of books on the shelf over there. Or you could, I dunno, meditate or something.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Meditate? Really?”
“Aren’t you into all that Instagram-hipster kumbaya yoga shit?”
“Stalker,” I muttered.
Logan just shrugged and went back to his paperwork.
“I don’t mind what you do, as long as you don’t cause me any trouble and you don’t try to escape.”
I stood and went over to him, glancing down at the sheaf of papers he was reading through.
“What’re you reading?”
“Medical reports,” he replied grimly. “Detailed medical reports about the illnesses that people down in Brookville have been suffering from. It’s not exactly light reading, but I need to know all the details.”
He shoved some papers off the seat next to him and indicated that I should sit down. I did so, acutely conscious of our proximity, of the heat of his thigh against mine.
“Here, look,” he said, passing me one folder. “Amy Brenner, age sixteen. Lives down in Brookville with her mom. A couple of years ago her hair and teeth started falling out. At first the doctors were puzzled, thought it might be due to stress, or anorexia, something like that. But then the toxicology results came back. Look.”
He pointed to a chart.
“All of these are carcinogenic compounds—common byproducts from textile manufacturing. The levels of these compounds in Amy’s body was completely off the charts.”
He took a deep breath, and I saw that his hands were shaking and clenched, the knuckles white.
“She’s racked up tens of thousands in medical bills already, and she still isn’t getting the vital care that she needs. She’ll die without it.”
He pulled out another file.
“Sam Drucker. Forty-four, owns a little farmstead over the mountain. Keeps chickens, a few cattle, stuff like that. Spends all his time out on the land. He’s got bowel cancer—terminal. It wasn’t caught in time, and now he’s got one, maybe two years, if he’s lucky. And what’s more, his livestock is all dead and his livelihood is in ruins.”
> Another folder, and I could feel Logan’s anger growing.
“Nate Jackman. Lives by himself in a little cabin, a bit like this one here. Retired years ago, just likes to keep to himself and tend his little plot of land. He’s got cancer too, and he’s losing his eyesight.”
He slapped the folder down and turned to me. His eyes were burning with anger, and swimming with tears of impotent rage.
“I could show you a dozen more just like this, along with pictures of rivers filled with dead fish, of dying cattle gasping for their last breath, but I’ll spare you the horror. Your father is directly responsible for all of this, and he has to be held accountable.”
I sat there in silence as the gravity of the situation sank in. There was no arguing with the data, the clear evidence of what was happening here. It was utterly horrific, and I felt a yawning void inside, one that used to be filled with the knowledge that my father was a good man. But it had all been a lie, a sham.
“Look, Logan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, okay? My dad, he’s... well, he’ll listen to me. I’ll make him, no matter what. I can help to make this better, and I swear to you that I will.”
I put my hand on Logan’s arm, but he pulled away, his emotions and his anger still too raw.
“You’d better believe that I’m gonna hold you to that,” he growled.
I left him for a little while, so that he could gather his composure. I took a book from the shelf and settled down on the couch, but I couldn’t focus on the words. I just kept running through those files in my head, the horrible diseases that those poor people were afflicted with. It was like something out of a horror movie. What was worse, my comfortable, insulated life had only been possible, indirectly, because of what had ruined their lives. It was a sobering thought, and one that I was going to have to live with for the rest of my days.
Later in the day, once he’d taken some time to compose himself, Logan came to me and apologized.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just get so worked up over this stuff. The whole community around here has been decimated by this factory. But I know that you had nothing to do with it, and it was wrong of me to be angry with you.”
I nodded.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“I’ll call your father again in a few days, to let the gravity of the situation sink in with him. Until then, well, we just gotta wait. I’ll cook us some dinner, and I think I might even have a bottle of wine around here somewhere if I search hard enough.”
He forced a smile onto his face and went over to the kitchen.
As I watched him, my mind churned with thoughts. I knew that I should be trying to escape, looking for weak points, maybe waiting until he slept before finding the keys and making a run for it. But I could see that, at heart, Logan was a good man driven to desperation by circumstances. Sure, he’d done a terrible thing—you know, like felony kidnapping. But he’d done it for honorable reasons.
He was fighting for the people of his town in the only way that he thought would work. It was a shame that I’d had to get caught up in it, but I couldn’t bring myself to completely condemn him for what he’d done.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “I set the table… thought we might eat together tonight. If you want to.”
“Sure,” I smiled. “That actually sounds nice.”
We sat to eat, and he poured a couple glasses of wine. I told myself to take it easy as I took my first sip. I needed to be alert, to stay on top of things. Getting sloppy drunk was just about the last thing I needed in the current situation.
As we ate, we chatted. Logan told me about his idyllic childhood here in the mountains—about catching bugs, exploring the forest, climbing trees, all that sort of stuff. When he spoke, I could see the happiness in him as he recalled those memories. but then the sadness would always creep back as he’d glance out of the window at the barren trees outside the cabin.
He was earnest, and intelligent and gentle, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his toned forearms, his tanned skin.
As he recalled an anecdote about falling in the river as a kid, it suddenly struck me at how surreal this all was. Here I was, eating and really enjoying this dinner with a man, who only two days previously had grabbed me off the street, tied me up, and driven off into the woods with me.
It was all so surreal. He was serving me wine for God’s sake.
I started to giggle at the absurdity of it all and stood to use the bathroom. As I did so, I suddenly came to the realization that the wine had gone straight to my head, and the whole world suddenly tipped, and I almost fell. Logan reached out and grabbed me, stopping me from falling.
“Easy there,” he growled. “Maybe no more wine for you, huh? For someone who spends so much of their time in cocktail bars, you’re a bit of a lightweight, aren’t ya?”
His arms were around me again, and I should have felt threatened or disgusted, or something. But I didn’t feel either of those things. I felt safe, and secure.
I felt warm.
I felt very, very warm.
I looked up at him, and time slowed around us. I swallowed, and the voice inside was screaming at me to just stop, but I couldn’t.
…And I didn’t want to in the slightest.
Our lips came together, our hands running everywhere all at once. I didn’t mean it to happen, I hadn’t planned it, but suddenly I wanted him.
No, I needed him. And I needed him more than anything else in the world.
Chapter Seven
Logan
I wasn't sure if I’d kissed her or if she’d kissed me, but in that moment, I couldn’t honestly care which one it was.
Because nothing else seemed to matter at that moment, and I was lost as we kissed each other, her soft lips caressing mine gently and tentatively at first.
My arms were around her slim waist, hands gripping her hips and pulling her close into my embrace. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as I held her tight to my body, feeling her warmth start to seep through my clothes.
I tried to pull myself away from this beautiful girl who was giving herself to me. I could almost feel her yearning desire, for the release of the thick sexual tension that had built between us over the last few days.
Fuck, I’d been harboring a fierce, burning lust for this girl since the second I’d laid eyes on her. I knew it could never be – not with what I needed from her. But that hadn’t stopped the blazing need for her from exploding through my entire being.
At that moment, part of me wondered if she was just feeling vulnerable, given the circumstances of my kidnapping her, and the way I’d overloaded her with all the grim facts about her father, ruining her perfect, safe little bubble.
I pulled back from her, holding her hips tight. Lia looked up at me, eyes searching mine with a slight frown on her face.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
Beautiful, and part of something bigger than just her and I, and I knew it. This couldn’t be. Her and I? Fuck. In another life maybe, this could be something hot as a forest fire. But right now, we had to stay who we were. I had to stay the one in charge. She had to stay my hostage – my leverage, or what the fuck was the point of any of this?
I knew full well I was only going to be able to resist this girl once. And I was going to have to use all of my willpower to it.
“Lia…” I groaned, shaking my head. “Fuck do I want you. But the way I brought you here and all…” I hissed, trying to suppress the growing heat and the roaring beast I felt building within me with her warm and slender body still pressed against mine.
She lifted a finger up to press it gently against my lips, and I felt a tingle at the sensation. Her eyes were determined, confident. Her tipsiness was gone, forgotten with the strong desire I knew she was feeling.
“I know it’s wrong,” she whispered. “But damn do you feel right. This feels right, and I want you, Logan,” she moaned quietly. “I want th
is. I want you. You make feel safe. Wanted.”
Her voice was soft and low, thick with sexual desire. I hesitated for a few more seconds, before finally realizing I wasn’t strong enough to resist this girl.
I never would be.
Lia’s expression changed from sultry to mischievous, a small smirk on her pretty features.
“Hey, you know, I’m your guest here, but you still haven’t shown me your bedroom. I think that’s incredibly rude,” she said, trying in vain to suppress a girlish giggle that escaped her full lips.
“How ungentlemanly of me,” I growled lowly, my eyes burning into hers. “Let me fix that for you.”
She gasped, squealing in delight as I lifted her up easily with my strong arms, settling her hips onto mine. She kissed me deeply then, passionately, her soft tongue darting into my mouth to find mine.
All resolve faded, and the last of my willpower crumbled. I gave in to her and kissed her back, almost desperately. My cock throbbed at my jeans, pulsing against the place between her legs with her thighs spread around my hips like that. I groaned at the heat from her pussy searing against me, making me harder—making me groan for more.
I carried her easily through to the simply furnished master bedroom, feeling her whimper into me as I dropped us both down onto the big queen-sized bed. She panted into my lips as my body ground into hers, pressing her into the soft mattress with my frim body grinding into her.
I pulled away, fire burning through me as I yanked at the buttons of her shirt—my big fingers fumbling with the small buttons until I was seconds away from tearing the fucking thing right off of her.
Lia panted, her small hands pushing mine away as her own dainty fingers slid down, opening the shirt easily for my hungry gaze.