I’m jumping ahead of myself, but Whitney doesn’t need to know that. This is her torture as much as it is mine. I want her dying thinking Ellie forgave me.
Pushing up, I crack the bat across the back of her legs, causing her to arch her back, and inciting a scream that would wake the dead if the tape wasn’t over her mouth. Blow after blow I rain down on my wife as blood splatters all over me and the gravel under her fucked-up body.
“The game is almost over. Psychological torture is excruciating. Trust me, I should know after living with you.” I grab a handful of her hair, drag her limp form across the gravel and through the tall grass, the only sound at the moment is coming from my heavy breathing and her barely-there screams through the tape.
Turning around when we reach the end of dry earth where it meets the swamp, I watch Lane as he unties the rope from a tree and ties it around her ankle, the other attached to an anchor that he tossed into the water earlier. Without a second thought, I let go of her hair, lean her up against a tree, and through the light from the trees, I swing and peg her right on the right side of her skull. Swear to God; her brain matter blows out her ear.
The thump of her dead body hitting the ground and then the splash of water is the last thing I hear.
Chapter Nine
Ellie
The voices in my head are eerily calm as I sit and stare out the window while I wait for Logan to shower the blood and dirt off his skin. It’s the same window he fucked me against the night we met.
It’s the memory of that night, the connection we shared without me knowing who he was that has me sitting in the same spot since I walked away and watched Logan as he dragged Whitney out of the cage, hauled her over his shoulder and into his vehicle. I’ve moved a couple of times to get a drink and use the bathroom. That was hours ago. I didn’t even move when he came back telling me Whitney was dead.
Logan’s tone held no remorse, no sympathy, he simply stated she was dead. The only emotion I heard was his worry about what’s to come of him and me.
I don’t have the answer to that. I wish I did. I wish this were all over, and my mind wasn’t at war with what my heart tells me to believe.
That he’s falling in love with me as he said.
How do you trust those words that you’ve longed to hear when the person who spoke them lied to you? How do you rebuild it and move on? These are answers I need to think on after Logan tells me why.
Why and how? Those words are such enigmas. They hold too many definitions. Cause. Hesitation. Impatience. Concern. Approval. Disapproval.
I hate them, not as much as I hated the woman that died at the hands of a man I think in her own screwed up way, she loved — a woman whose voice no longer resides in my head.
My blood warms, and I don’t even bother to hide the smile that lights up my face or the thrilling laughter that bursts out of me. It’s louder than it was a few minutes ago when I called Renita and Norah and told them Whitney was dead.
As horrible as it sounds, we laughed so hard that it caused me to have to run to the bathroom before I peed my pants and now I sit here not able to laugh if I tried.
But I can smile. I can feel a calming that makes me want to close my eyes and sleep for days.
I don’t have a clue where Logan left Whitney’s body, and I don’t care.
Whitney is dead.
Those words that came out of Logan’s mouth I do believe. That woman has lived inside of me for far too long, and I swear I felt it the second she stopped breathing.
I feel nothing about my part in knowing she’s dead. There is no guilt, no heaviness upon my shoulders; just the feeling of relief that Whitney can no longer be a part of my nightmares. Knowing she’s gone is everything, and there’s only one thing that will be better than this.
Shadow’s death.
“That smile is one of the best things about you, Ellie. It’s as contagious as you are. In the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve smiled as much since I was twenty.”
Shudders rock through me as responsiveness to Logan’s words spreads my smile wider, my pulse throbs in my neck, picking up speed in a soothing way across my skin.
I puff out a breath and slowly tilt my head in his direction.
Pull.
That tug that makes it hard to resist the man.
Dark green eyes stare back at me. At first glance, they appear intimidating. Although, I’ve seen the man underneath, the one who cares as much as he is dangerous. The vulnerability that contradicts every wrong thing Logan has done. A confusing man who hides behind his soft emotions with some, with me, he doesn’t.
No curtain, no veil. Just Logan Mitchell, the man.
And, God, I want him to scoop me up so I can cling to him forever. I want hopes and dreams and promises.
I want pitch black, and I want a bright light.
I need to remember who this man is, though. In one night of explosive passion, he pulled me out of my rut and let go of my hand just as I began to feel steady standing on my own.
He hurt me badly.
Hunger plays out across Logan’s features for a moment before his gaze trails up and down my body in a hungry kind of way, making my thighs clench. The intensity of his fixation on my neck makes me want to tilt my head more just to see what he would do. My pulse quickens, my breath catches, and if I don’t quit staring at his naked chest that’s still dripping with water, I’m going to be straddling him in about two point five seconds.
The sexual tension between the two of us is so intense; it’s working triple overtime. It wouldn’t matter if Logan were a Catholic Priest, it would still be there. If only the lie he told wasn’t in our way. An obstacle that I could easily jump over, but I’m not that kind of woman, no matter what my libido is begging me to do.
That, plus, I can’t trust him. He broke every bit of it the same day he broke my heart. The organ pounds painfully against my ribs, and I internally shake my head at the thought of sex with Logan. How could I want that after he lied to me? This man who I thought I was getting to know might do things I never thought I’d agree with, but not once did I ever think he would lie the way he has.
I don’t bother replying about my smile; if I do, we’ll get sidetracked. That is something my overloaded mind cannot afford to do. I’ve already taken in too much.
I’m one-hundred percent wrung out.
Emotionally drained and my bones are begging me to sleep.
“I should hate you for hurting me,” I admit as the thought of ever hating Logan shoots a crippling kick down my spine.
“You should, but we both know you don’t.”
I shake my head at his comeback. Although there’s no arrogance to it, not like the night I found out how I knew him.
The man is hurting like me, and the part of me that cares for Logan would love to take it all away.
“This isn’t the life I wanted for myself, Logan, but you’re right, I don’t hate you. I’m sorry I said that when it’s far from the truth. I hope it doesn’t come to that because doing so would make me give up hoping forever.”
I nearly tumble out of my seat when Logan’s eyes turn soft. This man who hours ago killed a woman, the same as he killed the man who threatened me, his features are brimming with understanding.
It is written all over the hard edges that make up this complicated man.
Hope.
He’s holding onto it too.
“You came along and breathed life back into me, Logan. You made me believe that you cared. You asked me to trust you when all along you knew this would break me.” The at-odds emotions lock up in my ribs — those tiny, fragile bones are pushing on my chest.
“I know, Ellie. God, baby, I know. I’ve never been this torn about anything in my life. I’m so goddamn sorry. If I convince you of anything, let it be that. I don’t want you hurting because of me. I’m not worth it. Not worthy of you.”
That’s a lie. One that hurts me to hear him say.
My insides rattle in
outrage that he could ever think that. What do I expect, though, when he’s used people as much as they’ve used him. Mostly when his mother treated him like he was born to live a legacy instead of living for himself.
It’s no excuse. Not when we have minds of our own.
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it was. I wouldn’t be losing sleep, not eating, missing work. I care, Logan.”
Because I need him.
Ache for him in every way a woman can for a man — mind, body, soul.
His lips divide on a sigh, throat shaking with a low, desperate sound when he says, “I care too, Ellie.”
I believe he does, but this isn’t about him, it’s about me, and I won’t acknowledge his feelings until I want to. This is about the one thing I won’t put up with from anyone.
Lies.
“I never talked to anyone about what I’m about to tell you except the therapist Renita found for me when we moved here, Miranda Stephenson is her name. After Shadow hurt me, I started talking about my life before him and after him. It was her idea of helping me heal and cope. We did many sessions with me talking about before. I told her all the happy memories with my parents. I cried when I talked about my mom’s death. How excited I was at first to have a sister, a family, a second chance at love for my dad. Mostly, how my dad was after Mom died and how I waited what felt like forever for him to come back to me. To be my dad again.” My throat tightens as I swallow, and my gaze falls to Logan’s Adam’s apple as it bobs.
My memories of my parents together before my mom became sick, are, at times patchy, but there are a few I remember as if they were yesterday. One so powerful that it will never leave my mind.
“I told you before how lost my dad was when my mom died. I didn’t tell you how I dreamed many times of finding someone who loved me as much as my father loved my mom. I wanted that so badly, but I didn’t want to be lost if something happened to them. I’ve known you a short time, and with everything that has happened, the lie you told, all my fears resurfaced, Logan. They’ve muddled my mind. With that, the one thing I’ve felt is lost.”
Tears form and my upper body quakes as the man I’m in love with takes a couple of steps closer. His hands are fisting at his sides. I know he hates not touching me, but if he does, we will never finish, and we haven’t even gotten to the hardest part yet.
Why?
As if he feels my hesitation, he stops merely feet away. Those sad eyes are reaching for me when his hands can’t.
“After Shadow, all I wanted was to be happy. To find a job I loved and live a life alongside the man I would fall in love with. I never thought I’d find happiness or love until I started to get to know you, Logan. We are as opposite in our morals and ethics as two people can be, and I’m okay with that. We might have started backward, but I thought we were building something. I thought we were moving forward. You crushed me and listening to Renita and you telling me things aren’t what they seem. Whitney talking about money, I have a pretty good inclination why you married her. What I don’t understand is why you felt the need to keep it from me.”
I’m torn and shattered.
Splintering down the middle.
All due to the sharp-toothed edges breaking and poking me inside my chest. God, I’m a mess. Broken and I need to be put back together. Need to get back to the woman I was.
Anger surpasses hurt in the seconds I wait for him to answer me.
“I lied about Whitney because I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth, too caught up in having someone like you interested in someone like me. Every day I wanted to tell you, Ellie. Lane told me it would come back to bite me in the ass. It did more than that; it hurt you when the last thing I ever want is for you to suffer again. I’m not going to lose you over this. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Backward or not, you’ve always been mine. Before either of us knew it.” Logan pauses, and I let out a gasp when he swiftly moves the rest of the way across the room and kneels in front of me. His hands resting on his knees.
I can’t look away from the heartfelt emotions gripping hold of his face.
“I want to believe in us, I do. I can live with little white lies, Logan. A big one like you are married to Whitney; that’s more than a lie. It’s a stab in my chest. You won’t ever understand what Shadow and Whitney did to me. What struggles I went through to get where I am. I suffer every day, Logan. You can never give back what they did to me.” I’m feeling the swelling of emotions filling my lungs. I don’t want to argue over this. I want to understand and take what he said home with me.
I shove those negative emotions down. I’m strong. A survivor and as long as I keep telling myself, I can handle the heartache until it heals.
“I know I can’t, and this is no excuse, but it’s the truth. Whitney and I started dating years ago. It was before I knew about Shadow’s obsession with you. It wasn’t until after he went to prison that I found out about Whitney’s involvement. As soon as I did, I vowed somehow I was going to make her pay. To do something, anything to grant you some godforsaken justice. Because if anyone deserves it, it’s you. The girl they tried to ruin.”
Suffering bleeds from him.
Unbounded and immeasurable.
“When their mother died, she left Whitney millions, Ellie. I was losing my mind trying to find a way to make them suffer before I killed them. I married Whitney to get back at her. I took every dime she had and made more. I’ve never loved her. I’ve hated her, and when I saw you at the bar, I couldn’t resist you.”
My face pinches, I knew it had to do with money.
I hate that it’s a means of survival. Hate it controls and corrupts people to do things a sane person wouldn’t normally do. But that’s the trickery when money and power are what someone thinks they need. It’s why Logan gave his body away, why he slept with women, why he owns a club where people pay thousands of dollars to have sex with people they don’t know.
“When I started to get to know you, that’s when I realized money didn’t mean shit to you. It was one of the things I found interesting about you. I told you I couldn’t stop thinking about you. At first, I thought it was the pull we had — the rush of me finally meeting this woman who had always been on my mind. It was that and more, Ellie. I found myself needing you, wanting you and no one else. I craved wondering what you wanted out of life, what you needed, what made you happy — your kindness toward others. And, God, the way you were with Lexi after knowing her for a minute, I saw that too. A family. Normalcy, happiness, freedom, love. I could list a hundred things I find fascinating about you and every day find more.”
His words warm right through me. Ready to combust.
“You’re afraid of me, frightened of being weak if you forgive me, aren’t you?”
God, the agony in his tone annihilates me.
“I was, not anymore. I’m angry, hurt, and distrustful. You married a woman you hated. Do you know how crazy that sounds, how ridiculous it is? You could have been mine all this time, Logan. Instead, you chose to live in hell until what; the right opportunity came along to take her down? Is that how it went? Why would you do that to yourself?”
My chest cracks, tiny fragments are threatening to drop me to the floor.
I struggle not to cry. My mind is pummeled with images of an angry young man sacrificing happiness when so many things could have been different if he wouldn’t have gone about seeking revenge when it wasn’t his to pursue.
But we wouldn’t be where we are today, testing if we have what it takes to make us work because back then I don’t know if Logan would have had the strength to leave his club behind. And me? I would have never gone along with letting him be with others like Whitney did. Why she did is a subject I don’t ever want to touch. She’s gone, out of the picture. If at all possible I don’t want to speak her name ever again.
I don’t know why right then and there my head reels back to something he said. Thinking of the possibility puts me in a stat
e of terrorizing fear that shakes me to the inner depths of my being. It makes me want to run out the door.
“How did you find out about Whitney knowing? She would never admit it to you.”
A tight vise grips my lungs, and I shake my head, my instincts wanting me to crawl up the back of this chair and run.
I stare at him, at those green eyes suffocating with so much despair and pain.
Linked and joined.
Right at the center.
Oh, God. Logan saw, he felt what I went through.
He knows. He saw the ugly that I had to confess.
“No, please tell me you didn’t get your hands on the police report, or the video, Logan? Tell me you didn’t see and hear what Shadow and Whitney did?”
The lines in his forehead deepen, and his eyes cloud over with the truth. “I felt guilty, felt like it was my fault. I had to see it with my own eyes, Ellie. Gabe got a hold of it for me. When I read your statement and saw the pictures, it tore me in two. It took me a while to watch the video. The way you sat there and told them everything, made me proud of you. Never in a million years did I expect what I saw.” He pauses, and I nearly crawl into his lap when tears form in his eyes.
“I had to do something, anything to take away the agony in your eyes, Ellie. At first, I didn’t have a clue about what I was going to do. Time slipped away, and every damn day, I wanted to kill them both. Then Shadow got into the trouble he’s paying for now, Elizabeth died, and I went after them to hit them where it hurt the most.”
There’s a hammering in the back of my throat that keeps me from speaking when he wipes under his eyes and clears his throat.
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