Logan leaned forward and set a hand on her knee. “I have an idea. There’s a jukebox right there and you can have your pick of music. My treat.”
“Well, now you’re just being a dick to shut me up.”
“But is it working?”
“Fine. I’ll pick out music.” If she was going to be hanging out in a bar not drinking for a few hours, she might as well get to listen to songs she enjoyed. Even though the machine looked like a jukebox, it was nothing like the icon of fifties diners everywhere. The machine had thousands of songs stored in the hard drive, and after she scrolled through a few pages, she found an artist she hadn’t heard in a while. A DJ who made dance heavy songs. Not that she could dance in the empty bar, but she could at least bob her head to it.
Once she had about twelve songs lined up, she smiled at her choices and turned back to the bar. She half expected to see Logan talking to the bartender again, but instead he looked right at her. She suddenly felt self-conscious. She wasn’t wearing going out clothes. She was wearing her road trip gear: an unbuttoned flannel shirt, a pair of black leggings, and her flat brown ankle boots. Jeggings were something she never thought she’d own, but they took up almost no room in her suitcase and they were much more comfortable than their denim counterparts.
Not to mention they made her ass look ten times better than jeans. Not something she’d thought about when she slid them on in the morning, but now that she knew Logan was watching, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.
Logan took another drink from his beer before he turned around. She sat next to him and brought her water closer to her. “Hope you like the music.”
“I like all music.”
“No one likes all music.”
“I like most music.”
She shook her head.
“Why is that so hard to believe?” he asked. “I like music. I wasn’t allowed to listen to any for years, so now it’s nice to hear all types.”
“If you like all music, you really don’t like any music.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“When you hear a song, a good song, it’s not just a bland ‘I like it.’ Your entire body feels it. You need to dance or drive or go out and do something. Good music makes you feel. And I don’t believe for one second that all music makes you feel.”
Logan just stared at her for a few long seconds. “We’ve been stuck in a car together for days and you haven’t said one thing about music to me.”
“Well, that’s because I was trying to make you happy. Your trip and your music. I didn’t have any say in it.”
“You had a say in it.”
“But it wasn’t the point.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a client, Julie.”
She scoffed. “Funny. That’s not what my contract I signed with your family said.”
“Fine. They’re your clients then. But not me.”
“You can’t just claim that you’re not a client. As long as I’m getting a paycheck—a very generous paycheck, I might add—you’re going to be a client of mine.”
Once again he put his hand on her knee. If she were wearing denim, it would’ve shielded her from the heat and size of his palm. She didn’t need any more reminders that he was a guy. It was as if everywhere he went, he screamed masculinity. And here he was with his hand on her leg, and instead of pissing her off, it just made her feel feminine and sent a rush of electricity through her.
“I think it’s time we talked then.”
“Talk about the woman you’re going to see?”
“About what happened last night. I’m assuming you don’t do that with all of your clients.”
Julie stiffened and stared intently at her water. “I thought we were going to pretend that never happened.”
“Nope. I’ve been thinking about it all day. What have you been thinking about during the long car ride here?”
“I was thinking about how pretty the mountains were,” she said with a completely straight face.
“Liar. You were thinking about the two of us. Together.”
“Last night was—”
“A mistake?” he offered.
“It was something that can’t ever happen again.”
“Have you ever done that with any of your clients? I recall you mentioning a closed-leg policy.”
“We didn’t technically—”
“We could’ve,” he whispered. “If I hadn’t stopped.”
Julie sputtered. “I would’ve stopped you.”
“Really? Because from where I was looking, you had other things on your mind.”
“What the hell is your point, Logan?”
He leaned forward and smiled. “Just admit that I’m not a client.”
Julie set a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. “Not happening. You’re my client and if I think that your reputation is in trouble, I’m going to act accordingly. Even if I’m the one endangering it.”
He let out a laugh. “You? How could you endanger my reputation?”
“Are you kidding? If the tabloids thought you were screwing the family’s PR rep, it would be crazy.”
“But you’re a single, attractive woman. I’m a single man who just got out of prison. I don’t get what’s interesting about two single people fucking.”
“Entire industries have been made off of two single people fucking, Logan. Especially when one of those people has the soap opera background you do. Now will you please tell me who the hell Alecia is so I can figure out if I need to worry?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Julie rolled her eyes as she took another drink of her water. In that short second, the businessman a few seats down scooched over and started to make small talk with her. Normally she didn’t talk to men at bars. Well, she didn’t normally go to bars for fun. But she had time to kill and talking with Logan apparently wasn’t an option, so she turned over to the guy. His name was Jeffery and he was a mortgage banker who had obviously had more than a few drinks already. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but somehow his charming stupidity made him an amusing way to pass the time.
Logan didn’t say a thing the entire time, but he kept inching closer and closer to Julie while she and Jeffery talked. By the time her playlist was getting closer to the end, Logan practically had an arm around her and she could feel his heat against her back.
She’d tell him to back off, but she didn’t really want Jeffery to think she was flirting with him, and that would involve another conversation with Logan that could easily veer into dangerous territory.
Except soon enough she didn’t have to worry about Logan getting too close. Another woman walked behind the bar. This one wore skintight jeans and a top that bared a generous amount of cleavage. Julie knew she was wearing a bra because the breasts were pressed so tightly together that they were almost touching her chin. The shirt also exposed a good five inches of a toned stomach.
This wasn’t the nicest bar in Denver, but they certainly weren’t lacking for hot bartenders.
The new arrival must be Alecia, because as soon as she set her stuff down, Logan leaned forward. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Jeffery smiled at his victory. Julie’s eyes followed Logan as he walked around the bar and motioned to the new bartender. She couldn’t hear them from where she sat, but she could see the bartender start to tell Logan off before he said something that made her go pale. And then she was leading him...somewhere.
Once they were gone, she realized Jeffery was saying something and she forced herself to pay attention. Some story about drinking with his buddies and crashing into his neighbor’s mailbox. Nothing more charming than a guy who thought drinking and driving was funny.
She started to zone out once again when her phone rang and she jumped on the chance. “Sorry.” She picked the phone up off the bar and backed off her stool. “I need to get this call.”
Jeffery looked sad, but she was gone before h
e had a chance to protest much. By now, a few more groups had filtered into the bar so maybe he could find another girl to hang out with while she was gone.
The music was loud, so the only place quiet enough to take a call was the staircase. Once the door was closed behind her, she looked at the screen and sighed. “Hey Curtis,” she said when she answered.
Curtis worked for the Global Inquirer Weekly. One of the bigger pains in her asses ever since she started to work with the Farrells. If he was calling, she was betting it wasn’t a good thing.
“I didn’t think you were going to pick up,” he said quietly.
“Are you whispering? Where are you?”
“Of course I’m whispering. Listen, this is just a courtesy call.”
She froze as a bolt of fear shot through her. Courtesy calls in her line of work were rare, but not unheard of. Even though it sometimes felt as though she was at war with the tabloids, there were other instances when they had helped each other. Curtis owed her a big favor since she was the one who arranged them to have the first interview with Jean once the family announced she was a Farrell by blood. For a large fee that went right to Jean, of course.
So if he was giving her a courtesy call, that meant something must have come up. “What did you find?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jules. You know what we found.”
“Believe it or not, the Farrell brothers have a lot of shit in their closet. Tell me in detail.” She didn’t want to make any assumptions about something so important.
He sighed over the phone. “We found out why he was being held in a max security prison. The guard he killed. Brandon Willis. We got an exclusive with one of the old guards who worked at the prison Logan used to be at and once we get one or two more confirmations, the story is going to run.”
Logan killed a guard? Damn it, why hadn’t she been told about this? She thought back to what she knew about Logan’s time in prison. He’d been transferred from the cushy white collar place two years into his term, but he hadn’t gotten any more time added to his sentence. If he really had killed a guard, wouldn’t that have gotten him a hell of a lot more time? And she would’ve expected Nathan to tell her something like this. Unless...this was back when Walter was alive. If he wanted it swept under the rug, there was a chance that the brothers didn’t know. Could they still not know? What would happen if this got released to the public?
There would be an uproar. If he didn’t get any time added to his sentence, people would accuse him of using his place in society to get off murder charges. Every paper in the country, and probably a lot overseas, would want a piece of the story. The whole thing would be a nightmare.
“You still there, Jules?”
“I’m here. You can’t run that story.”
“You know that’s not an option. I’m just doing you a favor by letting you know it’s happening.”
She rubbed her temples and ran her hand over her head. “There has to be something. Tell me what I can do to make this go away.”
“You can’t top murder, Jules.”
“Fuck that. A scandal that happened eight years ago in a prison. He was transferred to a different prison so it wasn’t like it was swept under the rug,” she bluffed. “If a judge decided to let him free, there’s a reason. All you’re doing is drudging up old news.”
“That’s bull. You know if we run this, it’s going to be everywhere.”
“Maybe. Or maybe no one will give a damn. Walter probably killed dozens of men who got in his way. Do you really think the public is going to be shocked or surprised at this?” Julie tried to make her voice sound as calm and confident as possible. Maybe if he believed her, they could figure something out...
“You know as well as I do that death and sex sells issues. So unless you can give me sex—”
“Sex. I can get you sex. I need a few days, but you’ll have your exclusive.”
“I can’t delay this story.”
“You don’t need to delay it. I’ll have something better for you before it ever has a chance to run. How soon can you get a photographer to Denver?”
“You can get better than a murder scandal?”
“I can get you a current scandal that can actually be proved. Now can you get someone here by tomorrow or not?”
“I can do that. For what it’s worth, I hope we can work something out.”
“Me too. Thanks for calling.”
Julie hung up the phone and lay back against the wall, resting her head against the cold brick. Logan might not want to be her client, but he was about to figure out exactly how good she was at her job. And he wasn’t going to like it one bit.
Logan tried to figure out what to do with himself as Alecia paced back and forth in the tight quarters of the manager’s office.
“I can’t believe you’re here. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Coming here at my work like this. You’re lucky I’m not calling the cops on you. I have half a mind—”
“Alecia, you knew I was getting out. I’m not going to let this go without finding out what happened—”
“You killed my brother! That’s what happened. And I don’t want to spend even two seconds alone with the son of a bitch who tore my family apart.”
Logan crossed his arms over his chest and bent his head. He wanted to defend himself, but it was impossible to do when he knew what he’d done. “You reached out to me first. I just—”
“I sent that letter years ago. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I thought back then. It’s too late. Brandon is dead and there’s no getting him back.”
“If you don’t want to deal with me, that’s fine. But you said in your letter that you suspected Brandon was working with someone. Can you at least give me some clue?”
Alecia shook her head and backed away. “It was so long ago. Why can’t you just leave me and my family in peace?”
“Because I’m not at peace! Do you think I enjoy knowing what happened? I know I can never bring your brother back, but I can figure out who caused this. Now are you going to help me or do I need to go over your head? I’m out now and I have millions at my disposal. This is your best chance to find out who caused this.”
She shook her head as she sneered at him. “You’re the one who caused this.”
“I’m just the instrument that was used.”
“You—”
He held up his hand. “I’m not trying to excuse anything. If you want to blame me, go ahead. I do every fucking day. But there’s more than me at play.”
Alecia shifted her weight and stared at the floor for a few long moments of silence. “Fine. I’ll give you everything I found. But this happened years ago. I’m at peace, really.”
As sure as she tried to sound, he could hear the pain still in her voice. The pain he had caused. “I can meet you here tomorrow and you can give me—”
“I’m not giving you physical copies of anything. I can send them to you, though. What’s your email address?”
Email address? Fuck. Julie told him and he forgot. “I can give you my phone number.” He’d memorized that easy enough.
“I’ll give you mine.” She rummaged through the desk until she found some scrap paper and wrote down a number on it. “Here. You send me your email address tonight. And I don’t want to ever see you show up here again.”
He took the paper from her and nodded his thanks.
“Now I’m going back to work. I don’t expect you to hang out any longer.”
“I’m going. Promise.” He put the paper into the back pocket of his jeans and left the manager’s office. As he got closer to the bar, the music seemed louder than it had been before. The rhythmic pounding of the electronic music was different than anything he liked before he went to prison. Was this really something that Julie was into?
Apparently she was. He expected her to be fending off the advances of the douchebag who had been flirting relentlessly with her at the bar, but instead, she stood next to the jukebox, with a drink in hand, danci
ng. Douchebag was right next to her, except his uncoordinated movements paled in comparison to Julie’s. She’d left her flannel shirt on the barstool, so all she wore was her tank top and skintight jeans. With every beat, her hips dipped and swayed, the clear outline of her body not leaving anything to the imagination. The chorus of the song started, and she mouthed the lyrics as she dipped close to the floor and stood up. Even though douchebag was dancing with her, she was ignoring him. Her eyes were closed and she just seemed to be appreciating the music.
The song got more upbeat, and she jumped to the beat as she continued to mouth the lyrics. Whatever this song was, she knew every line and anticipated the beat, moving her hips and arms in perfect time while the drunk guy next to her looked as if he was going to fall over at any second. He could’ve stood back and watched her dance all night, but just then Alecia went back behind the bar and he met her eyes—her silently telling him to get the hell out. He pulled a few twenties out of his pocket and put them on the bar before he picked up Julie’s soft flannel shirt.
She was still far into the song as he walked up. He was still trying to figure out whether he should shout over the music or try to touch her to break her from her trance when she danced straight into him. Her eyes shot open and he set a hand on her waist to steady her. Her mouth opened but she closed it before she said anything.
Because it was so loud, Logan bent until he could speak into her ear. “We need to leave.”
Her brows drew together. He could tell she didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she took a deep drink of whatever was in her glass. It sure as hell wasn’t water. Then she handed it off to her drunk admirer and took her shirt from Logan as he set his hand at the small of her back and led her to the staircase.
“So when did you stop drinking water?” he asked once they were away from the pounding music.
“I stopped when I got a lovely phone call telling me about a man named Brandon Willis.”
Logan stopped and pulled her aside. “What?”
Remorseless (Fractured Farrells: A Damaged Billionaire Series Book 3) Page 8