The Logan Brothers - Books 1-4: (EXPOSURE, CRASH, TWIN PASSIONS, and ADDICTED TO YOU)

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The Logan Brothers - Books 1-4: (EXPOSURE, CRASH, TWIN PASSIONS, and ADDICTED TO YOU) Page 39

by Shorter, L. A.


  My heart dropped. “Cade?”

  “Um, yeah, we're kind of seeing each other now.”

  I took a slight step back, unable to hide my disappointment. Cade? What the hell was she doing here with him?

  “Oh, OK.”

  “It's so good to see you though Zack, it's been so long.” She dragged me in and hugged me again. I felt a longing I hadn't felt in years.

  “So, how exactly did you and Cade meet? Did you think it was me or something?” I laughed. It probably sounded like an awkward laugh.

  “Um, well it was only a couple of months ago. It did flash through my head that it was you, yeah, but then he told me his name. I had no idea you had a twin! I've been dying to see you again ever since I met Cade, but haven't had the chance with everything that's been going on.”

  I guess she must have been referring to the horrific murder of my father by the drop in tone of her voice.

  “So why didn't you ever tell me?! How come you never mentioned you had a twin brother!”

  “I dunno, I guess it never came up.”

  “Never came up! How could you leave something like that out. You told me about your other brothers as I recall.”

  “Did I? I can't remember, it was so long ago now.”

  Actually, I could remember, and I knew exactly why I didn't mention Cade. He was my twin brother and I loved him, more than anyone else in the world, but I always felt I trailed in his shadow. He was always the more sporty one, the more intelligent one, the twin that dad favored. When we were sent to different high schools, I put on a front of being upset like he was: upset to be parted, upset to not see each other at school every day. In reality, I was delighted to step away from his shadow and out into the light where I could be just me, not Cade Logan's twin brother.

  Gemma shook her head and smiled at me in confusion. I hadn't seen her for years and yet it felt like I'd seen her just yesterday. We'd only been kids when we knew each other, now we were adults, and she was gorgeous.

  Even dressed in black, with a large hat covering her gorgeous brown hair, she looked stunning, her face pale and lightly made-up. I remembered how naturally beautiful she was at school, how the other girls started wearing make-up but she never did. Still, she always looked prettier than the rest.

  I'd met her on a summer trip before starting high school. I remembered the first time I'd really seen her, up on that stage, a bag of nerves, forced to introduce herself to everyone. She'd disappeared a little while after, and I'd found her down at the lake. We clicked immediately, and even shared our first kiss that night in the water under the stars.

  We grew close during that year as freshmen, spending lots of time together outside of class. But we were only ever friends. I knew she was too young and innocent for anything more, even though I began to want to take things further as we moved into our sophomore year.

  I never got the chance. Not after what happened. Not after I was ripped from the school and sent to board in another part of the state. I guess it was my fault, but I never saw Gemma again after that.

  It was shortly after the death of my mother, and I'd gone slightly off the rails. She was killed in a car crash, and it destroyed me. I started acting out, causing problems in class, neglecting my studies and getting into constant trouble. I was put on probation and given a last warning.

  If you get into trouble again, you'll be expelled.

  I didn't care, and it didn't stop me. When I stole a teachers car and crashed it into a tree it was the last straw. My father was furious, not only because I was expelled but because I'd stolen and crashed a car. My mom had died in just the same way, but it wasn't her fault. This was my fault, and I knew it. He said I was reckless and was putting the family through even more pain, that I needed more discipline and direction in my life.

  I was sent away.

  My phone was taken from me. I wanted to contact Gemma but couldn't. I tried sending letters but never got a reply. I guess I always resented that a little bit. Maybe she, like everyone else, was sick of me too.

  She looked at me now with bright eyes, full of happiness at seeing me again. Yet there were also questions behind them, things she wanted to ask me, things she wanted to say.

  Her voice broke the short silence, the noise of the gathering outside the door just a blur in my head.

  “I tried calling you, Zack, after everything, but never heard back. What exactly happened back in high school?”

  I sat down on the side of the bathtub once more and she followed, sitting down beside me, just like when we first met, when we first spoke together.

  “You know what happened,” I said, not wanting to bring up memories of the past, of my mothers death. I didn't want to face those as well right now, not on a day like this.

  “Yeah, I know you were expelled, but why didn't you stay in contact with me? You said you would. You just, I don't know, vanished.”

  “My dad took away my phone Gem. Trust me, I wanted to call you, but I couldn't. This school I was sent to, it was ridiculously strict. I couldn't even get to a payphone. I tried writing, but...” my voice dropped as I spoke, “...but I never heard back from you. I just figured that you didn't want me in your life anymore.”

  Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “You sent letters?”

  “Yeah,” I said quickly, “I sent a few.”

  She shook her head. “I knew it. Stupid damn parents, interfering in my life. They must have hidden them from me. They really didn't want me spending any time with you after everything that happened.”

  I hung my head slightly in shame, the thoughts of my reckless youth now infiltrating my already vulnerable mind. Today wasn't the day.

  “So you didn't just ignore them?” I said. That was some consolation. “I thought you'd had enough of me?”

  She grabbed my hand and looked at me through welling eyes. “I'd never do that Zack. You were my best....friend.”

  I lifted my hand to catch a tear rolling down her cheek. Her skin was soft against my fingers, clear and unblemished. Like the first time I met her, I felt an urge to kiss her, to hug her tight. But no, I couldn't. Now she was Cade's. It was the story of my life.

  I heard the door open suddenly and snatched my hand back away from Gemma's face. We both turned to see Cade appear in the doorway.

  His eyes scanned quickly over the scene. It must have looked odd, but innocent enough, the two of us just sitting and chatting on the edge of the tub.

  “Ah, I see you two have met! Gem, as you can probably tell, Zack is my twin!”

  She smiled and stood suddenly, moving in towards him. He leaned in and gave her a kiss.

  “Yeah, you boys are the spitting image of each other! Without that dyed hair, Cade, I'd never be able to tell you apart!”

  She spoke quickly, almost nervously, trying to cover things up.

  I caught the expression on her face, like a deer caught in the headlights. She made no mention of the fact that we knew each other, speaking as if she'd just met me. I followed suit.

  “Yeah bro,” I said, standing up, putting on a front, “you should have seen her face when she came in. Hilarious.”

  I stood and started towards the door.

  “Look, I've been in here too long. I'd better get out there and start mingling. I'll leave you two alone.”

  I walked past as Cade kissed Gemma again, her eyes watching me leave before closing. The sight made my stomach turn. Of all people, why Cade.

  Why fucking Cade.

  Chapter 5

  8 Months Ago

  Gemma

  It was winter time and Us and Them were doing a spread on getting a great body for winter vacations to the beach.

  You don't have to wait until summer to get in shape! Get fit for Christmas and your winter vacation, and stay feeling great all year round!

  That was the general idea of the piece, and I had been asked to put together a workout system to help people get 'bikini-ready' in only 4 weeks. It didn't seem to bother my editor that
I wasn't a fitness and health professional. All she wanted was something to fill the magazine.

  I had begun to get the feeling that this job wasn't going to be the sort of role I wanted. I'd hoped to be out there interviewing people and gathering the views of experts so, in this case, perhaps interviewing a local personal trainer and getting them to write up a routine. I'd get the piece done, and they'd get a bit of publicity if I included their name and website in the piece.

  But no, it wasn't really like that. I'd been at the job for about 6 months and it was clear that my job was to offer filler. Maybe one day soon I'd be given a bit more responsibility, but not right now. A quick search on Google was all I really needed to find the information I'd need.

  On this occasion, though, I wanted to get some first-hand info, at least play at being a proper journalist to see how it fitted. Maybe Mrs Banks, my editor, would be impressed if I took the initiative? Maybe she'd see that I had a lot more to offer than simply copying and pasting?

  I decided to go down to my local gym and talk to a few of the personal trainers there. I knew if I told them I was from the magazine they'd be willing to help me out, even if I didn't put their names to the article. A simple suggestion that I might be able to offer them some form of promotion in the future would get them interested. Personal trainers were always looking for new ways to increase their client list.

  For a couple of hours after work I spoke to a couple of different women working in Lift, the most popular gym in town. They were both in incredible shape and had been working in the industry for over 10 years each.

  They both had an hour between clients and were more than happy to talk to me about the most effective workout systems for quick weight loss and muscle toning. I knew a bit myself, so wasn't surprised when they said the main focus needed to be on diet, with exercise a distant second. Nutrition, I said, was being handled by someone else, so all I needed from them was an effective workout system.

  After a couple of hours I had a load of great notes to work with. I mean, I knew that I could have found the exact same information online, but I didn't care. Even though it was outside of work hours, it felt so much more gratifying talking to people and gathering the information face to face. I actually felt like a real journalist.

  By the time I was ready to go home it was beginning to get late and quiet on the gym floor. Only a few stragglers remained, pumping iron and lumbering along on treadmills. I walked off down the corridor back towards the entrance, passing by a studio as I went.

  A flurry of quick movement caught my eye through the thin glass window and I stopped suddenly, intrigued. Inside was a young man, his hair darkened with sweat, launching his fists ferociously at a punching bag. He ducked and swerved to the left and right, dancing around the bag and sending it flying this way and that.

  He looked to be about 6 feet tall, his body shining with perspiration. He wore only shorts, every muscle on his abs so defined as he twisted and turned. His arms moved fast, his punches like lightning, his eyes set on the bag, never looking away.

  Then, suddenly, he saw me, his eyes darting up towards the door and through the window. I instinctively stepped to one side, as if caught spying. I guess that's exactly what I had been doing.

  I made a move to carry on down the corridor towards the exit, walking quickly away. I felt embarrassed to have been caught ogling him like that. I mean, that wasn't what I was usually like. Before I could go ten feet, however, I heard the door open fast and a voice from behind.

  “Like what you saw did you?” the man spoke, his tone teasing.

  I turned around and my heart leapt from inside my body. The guy was the spitting image of a boy I once knew, only older. My best friend when I was younger, the boy who'd given me my first kiss.

  “Umm,” I mumbled, not quite knowing what to say.

  He walked forwards towards me, his body glistening. “I'm only joking,” he said, holding out his hand. “My name's Cade. I haven't seen you down here before.”

  I gathered my words, still struck by his similarity with Zack.

  Zack...I haven't though about him in years.

  “Er yeah, I'm just here on assignment.”

  “Assignment?”

  I nodded. “I work for Us and Them...you know, the lifestyle magazine. Just been talking to a few personal trainers for a piece about weight loss.”

  He looked me quickly up and down. “Really. So you're a journalist?”

  “I guess so,” I said, smiling. I liked the sound of it, but my job could hardly be called journalism right now.

  “That was impressive in there, do you box professionally?” I continued, moving the subject quickly along.

  He nodded slowly, “I'm getting there,” he said with an air of confidence. “Just looking for my shot at the big time.”

  Aren't we all.

  I couldn't keep my eyes off his face. He was so much like Zack it was unreal. Those rare green eyes, the shape of his face, even the sound of his voice. I must have been looking at him like I'd seen a ghost or something.

  But then, of course, Zack did have brothers. He told me he had several of them, actually, and that they all had a similar look to them. Maybe this was one of them.

  “So are you going to tell me your name?” he asked as I stared on.

  “Oh, it's Gemma.”

  “Well it's great to meet you Gemma. Maybe you should come down here more often...not that you need to workout or lose weight or anything.”

  His eyes shot up and down my body again.

  “No, you don't need any work at all.”

  I might have thought his words were sleazy but for the charm with which he delivered them.

  “Thanks, that's good to know.”

  My mind continued to swim. I wanted to flat out ask him if he was Zack's brother but something held me back. I chose a different track.

  “This is gonna sound weird but you look familiar. Do you have any brothers?” I asked casually.

  “Um, yeah I've got four actually. Crash and Kyle are older and Jude's younger.”

  OK, that's three.

  “And the last one?”

  “Oh, he's the same age. Well, about 10 minutes younger actually.”

  Holy shit. He has a twin!

  “His name's Zack.”

  My heart literally dropped to the floor, but I desperately tried to keep my cool.

  “Why do you ask? Do you know one of them or something?”

  Shit. “Er, no, doesn't ring a bell. I must have been thinking of something else.”

  I had no idea why I was lying.

  He looked on at me quizzically, as if he knew I wasn't being completely honest.

  “Hey, so I need to grab a quick shower. I just wondered whether you'd like a grab a drink afterwards?”

  This was so bizarre. Everything about him reminded me of Zack. The way he smiled, the way he spoke, those lights behind his deep green eyes. I wanted more.

  “Sure, that sounds fun.”

  His smile grew, thin, sexy, dimples appearing on his cheeks, just like Zack.

  “Great! Give me 10 minutes and I'll meet you in reception?”

  I nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  ….

  It was less than a week later than I sat, for the first time, watching Cade box. He was charming, funny, and intelligent. Pretty much everything that Zack had been.

  The fight itself wasn't something I was interested in, but I was compelled to want to spend more time with Cade. Knowing Zack so well as I did, it was fascinating to get to know his twin brother as an adult. I imagined that it's exactly how Zack would be now.

  Maybe soon I'd see him again, for the first time in years. A smattering of nerves always began to build in me at the thought.

  Cade won his fight and was jubilant after. He told me it was set to be his toughest bout yet, a real scalp for him if he could get through it, hopefully by knockout. He did, and with ease. He told me he'd felt inspired, more confident than he ever been before.r />
  He told me, right there after the fight, that I was his lucky charm.

  It was that night that he kissed me for the first time. I felt almost guilty doing so at first but was drawn to him like a magnet. That kiss turned to sex in his apartment, a beautiful open planned space overlooking the river.

  He was wild and insatiable, his body brimming with adrenaline following his victory. I couldn't help but be caught up in it, even though it wasn't what I'd usually do. I had only met up with him a couple of times. Usually I'd go at least four or five dates before putting out.

  In the month that followed he fought twice more, each time insisting I come watch him. He said my presence gave him an edge he didn't have before, that he was sharper, faster, stronger, under my gaze. I hated the fighting, but I couldn't say no, didn't want to say no.

  He ended up winning both fights as he had before, early and by knockouts. His intensity in the ring was in such contrast to his energy and jubilation afterwards, this bustling smile exploding from his face as soon as he saw me after his victory.

  Things moved faster than I'd ever have imagined, but still the image of Zack lingered in my head. Cade spoke of him often, of his family, of his father, but I never revealed the truth: that Zack had been my best friend, my first kiss, the first boy I'd ever really cared for.

  Then, roughly 6 weeks after I'd first met him, Cade's father was murdered, shot dead in an hotel room. I didn't see him for about a week after as he spent time with his family. I wondered if he'd told them about me, if Zack knew. It made me nervous to think that he did.

  When Cade invited me to the funeral I knew then that I'd be seeing Zack again. I thought about not going, but Cade told me he really wanted me there.

  When I saw Zack, standing next to Cade over his father's grave, I felt a huge surge of nerves. I wondered how much he remembered of our time together. I wondered whether he even cared.

  I guess, soon, I'd find out.

  Chapter 6

  Present Day

  Cade

  I sat in a large leather seat, a stripper coiled round a pole on the stage in front of me. A waitress came over, scantily clad in a little black and red corset, and set down a glass of whiskey on ice beside me.

 

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