by Sierra Rose
“I told you,” Logan hissed between gritted teeth, “it was a lot more casual than all that. At any rate, I’m not the one you should be talking to. You should go home and speak to your wife!”
With a massive show of strength, he flipped Bill around and came out on top—punching only hard enough to keep the man down. Using only enough force to incapacitate.
Unfortunately, Bill liked to fight dirty.
“For fuck’s sake!” Logan let out a sharp cry, as the man grabbed onto a fistful of his hair and pulled for all he was worth. “My hair? Are you serious?!”
“Are you seriously fucking my wife?!”
“Past tense!” Logan cried, as the man rolled him into the coffee table. “Past tense!”
The flimsy wood buckled beneath them, before shattering into a dozen pieces. While Logan cast a panicked look at the floor—unable to believe he was literally breaking off portions of his brother’s house—Bill took advantage of his distraction to slam his head into the ground.
There was another disembodied growl, as the picture flickered before his eyes.
“BILL!”
Logan turned his face into the hardwood, tasting blood. For a split second, he considered rallying. But before he could, there was another flash of fur, and the world went dark.
Chapter 14
“Dylan...can you hear me? Please wake up if you can hear me.”
Logan pulled in a deep breath, as his eyes fluttered open and shut. They were slow to focus, slow to latch onto the breathtaking face floating amongst the shadows. His brain was even slower to comprehend where he was, or why there was a giant dog lying across his chest.
“...am I dead?”
The face broke into a smile, albeit a quick one.
“You’re not dead,” Lacy answered quietly. She was looking him up and down, scanning for any damage, while seeming incredibly reluctant to meet his eyes. “You got knocked out—”
“Bill,” Logan gasped, pushing aside her gentle hands as he tried to sit up, “he did this—”
“Actually, it was your dog.” The two of them locked eyes, and Lacy blushed a bit before continuing. “It was your dog who knocked you unconscious. I guess he’s a little over-protective. When Bill came at you, he jumped over your head to stop him and knocked you down.”
Logan blinked in shock, before staring down at the colossus perched upon his legs. The second Spartacus saw him watching, he snarled and stalked away—making sure to push heavily off of Logan’s stomach as he did so. Apparently, their bond activated only in life or death situations. For everything else—they were still locked in a cold war.
“Well that figures,” Logan mumbled, pushing again to a sitting position. Even when the dog decided to help him, he still managed to knock him out. “But what about Bill?” His head twisted around, as if at any moment, the man could come flying out of the shadows. “Where—”
“The police took him away,” Lacy answered stiffly. Her face looked bleak. “Charged him with assault. Bail’s probably astronomical. That’s how these things work.”
An ambulance had been called and Logan refused treatment or to go to the hospital.
“The husband is gone,” the woman said.
For a second, Logan was wildly relieved. Good—the crazy man with the bloody fists was safely behind bars. Now he just had to get himself out of this tiny house, and he was home free.
But one look at Lacy’s face made him think differently.
“Of course he took a swing at me,” he said quietly, wiping a smear of blood away from his face. “After Ja—I mean—after I was sleeping with his wife? I would have hit me too.”
A peculiar look flashed across Lacy’s face, and for the first time, Logan realized why she was having such a hard time meeting his eyes. “Yes—he had a right to be angry. He even had a right to confront you. But he never had a right to hit you.” Her slender shoulders fell with a deflated sigh. “That was never supposed to happen. His wife called me and warned me that he was coming for you. So I rushed over. But I should’ve called the police first thing. This is all my fault.”
“Hey,” he took her hand without thinking, squeezing it tight, “not a single part of this is your fault, do you understand? You are the only person here completely without blame.”
...along with myself. Not that you can ever know that.
Her blue eyes flashed up miserably, latching onto his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but found himself temporarily derailed by those magical eyes. The speech patterns of his brain shut down, and it was all he could to do close his mouth.
Was it normal for one person to be so beautiful? Was this the head injury talking? He met beautiful women almost every day as part of his job, but none of them had ever affected him quite like this one. Maybe it was because they couldn’t hold a candle.
“It’s not your fault,” he said again quietly. “And it’s not Bill’s fault either.” Without another word, he hobbled over to what was left of the coffee table to recover his things. “Do you know what station they took him to? Was it somewhere nearby?”
Lacy followed his every movement with a little frown. “Yeah, it’s less than a mile away on the corner of Braxon and Elm. Why do you want to—”
“Can you see yourself out?” Logan interrupted as politely as he could. “Extra ten points if you agree to take the dog.”
She was too hung up on the fistfight to see the humor.
“Why are you going to the station?” she asked in a worried voice. “Are you going to press extra charges? Because I know he attacked you, Dylan, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I’m not going to press charges,” Logan replied as he slipped on his coat. He cast her one final look, before pacing out into the sun. “I’m going to get him out.”
BAILING SOMEONE OUT of a jail was a lot harder in real life, than it looked in the movies. It was a lesson Logan was still learning the hard way hours later.
“Yes, but I gave you that information already.” He pressed his palms into the cracked registration counter, trying to rein in his frustration. “If you could just—”
“Sir, I’ve already told you a hundred times.” The woman behind the counter was just as frustrated as him. And far less polite about it. “William Heam is being charged with assault—”
“Yeah, but I’m the one he assaulted!” Logan cried. “Me. No one else, just me. Doesn’t that give me the right to not press charges?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in a withering glare—her fingers just itching to press the button below the desk that alerted security. “For the last time, until we have proof of—”
“Hey, Melinda.”
The door pushed open, and Logan and the receptionist whirled around as Lacy Larson breezed into the room. As casual as if she owned it. As relaxed as if she came there every day.
“Lacy?! AH—it’s so good to see you!” Melinda-the-receptionist sprang to her feet with a beaming smile. “I thought you were heading to Atlanta.”
“Got cancelled,” Lacy replied, letting herself be pulled in for a giant hug. “The official story was food poisoning, but I suspect ulterior motives.”
The two women laughed conspiratorially, as Logan stared between them in disbelief. If he’d known the receptionist could smile, he would have tried to charm her ages ago. As it stood, he merely stood there quietly until they were finished.
“This guy giving you any trouble?” Lacy asked with a grin, cocking her head towards Logan. It was impossible to miss the tension between the two. A fact she was enjoying greatly.
Melinda scowled, fixing Logan once more in her dangerous sights. “You have no idea. You want to work your magic with that nightstick you’re always carrying—be my guest.”
Nightstick? What the hell was this woman? PI? Undercover cop?
...professional trespasser?
Before he could tell his side of the story, Lacy stepped up to the counter with a steady calm. “He’s here to bail out Bill Heam. Can we make that happe
n?”
Logan folded his arms across his chest, bracing himself for the opposition, but the receptionist only smiled. “Of course—just give me a second to get it processed.”
There was a pause in her typing as she and Logan locked eyes. She smiled sweetly, then returned to the screen. For his part, Logan had reached his limit.
Without stopping to think, he scribbled some numbers on a check, and slipped it over the counter. “That should cover it. Do me a favor and keep it anonymous.” Before either woman could say a word, he was out the door. Leaving them speechless in his wake.
By now, the sun had begun to lower in the sky. Logan gazed up at it wistfully, wishing he was already on a plane flying home, back to where things like this never happened. Back to where everything was predictable and controlled. But his escape from Cleveland had one last stop to make. He had to go back to Dylan’s first to grab his suitcase. While he was at it, he should also probably leave out some food and water for the dog.
As if the thing needs to get any bigger...
“Hey! Wait up!” He turned around suddenly to see Lacy running towards him across the street. The golden sunlight danced across her hair and reflected in her luminous eyes as she gazed up at him in wonder. “You didn’t have to pay the full amount, you know. It was just the standard holding fee. They probably would have lowered it—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Logan flashed a quick smile, pacing back up the street towards Dylan’s house. This town was a death trap. He had to get out before anything else happened to suck him back inside. “I was happy to do it.”
“Why?”
She circled around in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. One hand was pressed against his chest as she stared searchingly into his eyes.
Again, those eyes threw Logan off track. But this time he managed to speak. “Why what?”
“Why did you bail him out in the first place?” There was a curiosity there that needed to be satisfied. A burning desire for answers she couldn’t control. “And why do it anonymously?”
Because it was the right thing to do.
Logan stared down at her for a moment, before pushing gently past. “Someone had to—”
“Dylan!” She stopped him again, refusing to let it go. “That’s not an answer.”
Logan didn’t know what exactly made him do it. Perhaps it was the five hours he’d just spent in jail. Perhaps Spartacus laying on his chest had deprived his brain of vital oxygen. But he suddenly found himself thinking in exactly those terms. As Dylan. What would his brother do?
“Come to dinner with me, and I’ll tell you.”
Lacy stopped cold, her lips parting in surprise. At first, it looked like she was on the verge of smiling, then a sudden coolness hardened the edges of her face.
“Why? So you can cheat on me?” He stared down at her uncertainly, and she put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Dylan. I didn’t know she was married? Of course you did—that’s like the standard line. You think I’m an idiot? Going out with someone like you?”
His confidence vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving him depressingly numb.
“No...of course not,” he said softly, pushing past her once more. “I’m sorry. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
He was all the way across the street before she called out to him. Already pulling out his phone to book himself a flight, when he heard her sweet voice on the other side of the road.
“You like dancing?”
He stopped in his tracks, a beaming smile sneaking up the sides of his face.
“I love it.”
Chapter 15
Confession: Logan did NOT love dancing.
But as it turned out...he loved dancing with Lacy.
The club was called Glitter, and it lived up to its name. From the second Logan stepped inside, his eyes were assaulted with a barrage of multi-colored lights flashing from every corner of the room. The ground itself was sparkling, and the miniature disco balls mounted onto the ceiling made the entire place look like it was in a constant state of confetti-explosion.
He hesitated automatically in the doorway, but proceeded forward when Lacy took his hand—weaving them effortlessly through the crowd. She bypassed the main dance floor, for which he was overwhelmingly relieved, but then bypassed the bar as well—which only confused him. He was about to ask where exactly she was leading them, when she came to a sudden stop at one of the booths pushed up against the far wall.
“Lacy! You made it!”
For the second time, Logan froze in place—looking down in surprise at what looked like a festively-themed birthday party. A table of no less than twelve woman stared back up at him with wide, wondering eyes, before Lacy stepped forward with a warm smile.
“Of course I did—you only turn twenty-six once!”
“Twice,” a woman wearing a rhinestone tiara corrected under her breath. “I’ve decided to either stay where I am, or start reversing it.”
Lacy whipped a card out of her purse with a smile. “Good to know.” She handed it off, then remembered Logan standing by her side. (Remembered him because twelve drooling women couldn’t take their eyes off him.) “Girls, this is Dylan. Dylan, these are the girls.”
There was a chorus of infatuated hellos, to which he flushed and smiled shyly back.
“And who is the birthday girl?”
The woman in the crown blushed and pushed to her feet, swaying drunkenly all the while. “That would be me. Twenty-five.” She hiccupped. “...again.”
He chuckled softly. “We’ve all been there.” Then, with the manners ingrained into him by the upper echelons of society, he kissed her on both cheeks. “Happy birthday.”
Her eyes widened, as she hiccupped again. She stared at him drunkenly for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he was real, then a second later, she excused herself with a smile and grabbed Lacy tightly by the arm. “Honey, can I talk to you for a second?”
Lacy spun around, almost tipping over in her tall shoes. “Sure, what—”
“I want him for my birthday. You must give him to me as a present.”
It was said in a whisper—the kind that was obviously not supposed to carry. Then again, it was said in a drunken whisper—the kind that carried all the way across the booth.
The girls giggled, as Logan turned his head with a gracious smile—pretending not to have heard. As for Lacy, she looked a little taken aback by the entire situation. But at the same time, despite their odd start, she looked as though she wasn’t entirely ready to let Logan go.
“How about...if he gets you a drink instead?”
The birthday girl considered, weighing her options.
“...could he do it naked?”
This time, it was much harder to pretend not to have heard. There was open laughter from the table, and Logan met Lacy’s eyes with a twinkling smile. She grinned helplessly back, completely at a loss, before he decided to step in.
“How about a dance instead?”
It was the ultimate sacrifice—dancing in public. Not that the giddy woman could know that as he led her out onto the floor. Not that he wasn’t used to it himself. If there was one thing that Miami did ‘well,’ it was clubs.
In the early days of his company, he’d had a publicist directing his every move. Go to all the clubs—she’d said. Be seen with all the right women—she said. It’ll be fun—she’d said. She was right about two out of three. Logan went to the all the hot spots, danced with all the right women, and had about the worst time of his life.
Never once was there a genuine moment. Not for a single second did they stop discreetly angling him towards the cameras. Kissing at all the right times. Laughing at all the right times. Posing, not dancing. And then, when the night was through, they would ask to go home with him. Bold, but in a way, they thought was charming. Hoping to get a glimpse of that famous estate in the private part of the city. Hoping to get just a small sliver of whatever money they could get their hands on, to milk the celebrity spot
light for all it was worth.
The birthday girl was looking for the same.
Not that she was posing for the paparazzi, she was doing it so all her friends could take ‘secret’ pictures on their phones. And not that she was dancing for the money, she was doing it in the blatant hope of getting laid.
“So,” she slurred, wrapping her arms around his neck in a casual stranglehold, “you’re a friend of Lacy’s? Someone from work?”
That’s one way of looking at it...
“Yeah, you could say that.” Logan smiled indulgently, but reached up behind him to gently loosen her hold. She was too drunk to notice. “And you? How do you know Lacy?”
It was a strange moment—one that hit them both at once. Logan was suddenly interested in finding out anything and everything he could, while the woman suddenly realized she didn’t want to spend her birthday dance talking about her beautiful friend.
“We met at school,” she said simply, tightening her grip once more as she pressed her body against his. The lights flashed across their faces, and her lips curled up with a seductive smile. “So tell me, Dylan, what exactly does this birthday dance entail?”
Before he could answer, she spun around—hiking her dress up around her thighs as she began grinding into him. A gasp of surprise escaped his lips, as her blonde hair whipped back and forth, but before he could take a step back, she grabbed him by the wrists. Placing his hands firmly on her gyrating body.
There was a loud cheer from the women’s table, but when Logan caught Lacy’s eye, she was looking rather stricken. This time, it was him that gave the helpless ‘come get me out of this’ look. She was quick to oblige, winding her way toward them with a scarcely suppressed smile.
“Stella, honey—I think you need to sit down with some water.” She gently extracted the two, angling her friend in the direction of the table. “Also, Nate called and wanted to know when you were going to be home tonight.” The woman shook her head blankly, and Lacy continued with a bemused smile. “You know—Nate? The man you’ve been living with for six years?”