Shit, what if he looked under the bed! What would I say? Pretend to surprise him? I lay still and closed my eyes, praying for him to leave.
I opened my eyes suddenly as he spoke again, his voice now close and loud to my ear.
“Ah, got it.”
He quickly bustled back out of the door as I stayed hidden behind the hanging sheets.
“What the hell is that anyway?” asked Kyle.
“Oh, just this special nutrition stuff I need. Coach told me that Steve isn't coming down today so I needed to bring my own back-up stash.”
“And who's Steve?”
“My nutritionist.”
“Right, yeah. How does it taste?”
“All right actually. Frankly I'd eat shit right now if Steve told me it would help me train better!”
“You always did have a way with words bro!”
I heard Cade laugh as he moved back over towards the front door. “All right dude, lets do it!”
Kyle followed after Cade as the door opened and they both walked out into the corridor, their voices growing muffled again as the door was locked from the outside.
I let out a breath I'd been holding in for about 5 minutes as my muscles relaxed, my head falling to the carpet as I lay there, in silence, for a minute or two.
What the hell had I just heard?
Crash had killed this Lithgow guy, who'd murdered their father? This was truly fucked up.
I crept out from under the bed, my arms shaking slightly as I pushed myself up onto my feet. “I should never have come here,” I whispered to myself. “This was a big mistake.”
I quickly moved towards the front door and pushed my ear against it, listening for movement outside. I heard nothing but the sound of a distant hoover, the cleaning lady still hard at work somewhere round the corner down the corridor.
I unlocked the door and stepped out again, locking it on the other side, and pacing off towards the door to the stairwell. I needed to find out more about all of this, and I needed to do it now.
….
Half an hour later I sat behind my desk at work. It was still early morning and the office hadn't even filled up properly yet.
I took a large sip from my black coffee and booted up my computer, quickly opening up my browser and typing the name Lithgow into the search function.
The feed was immediately populated with news articles relating to his disappearance. I picked out one from the bunch, dated from a couple of months ago.
“Walter Lithgow, a billionaire investor, based in New York, has been officially declared missing by his family. Mr Lithgow was last seen in Branton before his disappearance, and was in town working on a large hotel and casino project.
Several other investors and business associates, who were working with him on the project, have come forward with information detailing his last known whereabouts. He was last seen leaving a meeting at his offices in the Business District of Branton, and since then has not been seen, or heard from.”
I read on, the article detailing his life in business and the mystery surrounding his disappearance. Then, my eye was caught as Crash's name suddenly came up.
“Crash Logan, eldest son of the recently deceased Charles Logan, is heading up the casino project, and has pledged his support in the search for Mr Lithgow. The Logan family is well known in Branton, with the city's newest hero, Cade Logan, currently performing so well in the ring. Crash has declared his deepest sympathies to the family, and has made it clear that he is adamant that Mr Lithgow will be found alive and well soon.”
I shut down the article and returned to the search results, looking for more recent news. The headlines grew more grave as I searched, with Lithgow clearly still missing, and now presumed dead.
I couldn't believe what I was reading, what I'd just heard back at Cade's apartment. Why would this Lithgow be investing in Crash's casino project and working with him if there was such bad blood between them? If Lithgow had murdered Charles Logan, why did he start working with his son?
“Morning honey, you're in early!” Annie's voice snapped me from my thoughts. I looked up to see her hovering over me, taking off her bright purple coat and hanging it on the hook by the wall. I could see her eyes peering at my screen, filled with articles about Lithgow's disappearance.
“What are you looking at there?”
She leaned in closer and frowned. “Walter Lithgow? Why are you reading about that?”
I hastily closed down the browser. “No reason,” I said, a little breathlessly, “just interested.”
“Is there any more news on him? Has he been found?”
“Umm, no, still missing. They're pretty sure he's dead.”
Annie moved back round to her own desk opposite me. “Yeah, well that makes sense. I don't think billionaires just go missing unless someone doesn't want them to be found.”
She was more right than she knew.
“Sooooo,” she said, dropping her voice a touch, “did you do the deed?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I did it just now.”
“And?” Her eyes were wide with interest.
I shook my head. “No, nothing. I couldn't find anything.”
“So what are you going to do, you know, about the story, about Mrs Banks?”
I shook my head again, my voice devoid of any energy. “I don't know. I guess I'll be out of the job soon.”
“Well babe, at least you tried. She'll surely get that. I mean, if there's nothing to find, there's nothing to find, right?”
I nodded. Yeah, I found something all right. Something I don't think I can ever talk about. Something I was already trying to forget.
“Maybe.”
But I knew she wouldn't. I knew she'd go through with her threats.
“Look babe, keep your chin up. I mean, it's probably a good thing in the end. I know you don't really want to print anything about Cade.”
I shook my head, hardly taking in her words.
“And if you need any help, you know, finding a new job or anything – you know, if it comes to it – then I'm always here, OK.”
“Sure, thanks Annie.”
She sat back down on her chair and dropped out of sight, clearly getting the impression that I wasn't in a particularly talkative mood right now.
I felt slightly sick at what I'd done, what I'd heard that morning. I couldn't quite believe what I was willing to do for a job, for my career, and now it had landed me with information that I wish I could forget.
The irony was that my trip to Cade's apartment had yielded just the sort of fruit that Mrs Banks would love to get her hands on. The idea that Cade had knowledge of murder, that his brother was the perpetrator, that the victim was the man who'd killed their father. It was the sort of thing that would make headline news all over the world, not just in Branton.
But no, she'd never know because I'd never tell her. It was too much for me to handle, way beyond my pay grade.
No, I'd take the secret to my grave. I'd never speak of it to anyone.
Chapter 13
Present Day
Cade
“So when was the last time you were up this early bro?”
“Fuck knows, not for a long time now,” replied Kyle, his shadowed eyes telling their own story.
I laughed at the sight. For me 6 AM starts were nothing out of the ordinary. Every time I was in final preparations for a fight I'd be up at the crack of dawn every damn day.
This fight meant everything to me, though, so coach and I had pushed my training to the absolute max. The only problem was my lack of preparation time. I mean, two weeks to get myself physically and mentally prepped for the fight of my life was woefully short. But then, the fact that I was willing to go through with it was partly why I'd got the gig in the first place.
Others had been approached but had turned it down, either because it was too short notice or because they were already training for another bout. That left the door open for me, and I wasn't going to let it slip. No,
this was my time, my chance to make a real name for myself, get myself on the big promoters' radar, and I was going to grab it with both hands.
Luckily I was already in great shape when the fight was arranged. I always kept myself in prime condition, so felt I could go out and fight at the drop of a hat if I needed to. Hopefully my 'always be prepared' mantra would pay off.
It was just past 7 AM when Kyle and I finally arrived at the boxing club. I'd stupidly forgotten to bring along my specially formulated protein bars so had to go back to my apartment and get them. I swear I must have been losing my mind with all these early mornings, as the door was unlocked when I got in there. Probably a good thing I had to return in the end then I guess.
Kyle was down supporting me through my training today and wanted to get a full taste for how my schedule went. He'd told me Crash had wanted to come down as well but was way too busy with his new casino project.
The idea, Crash had told me, was for me to open the hotel/casino with a defence of my title when it was finally finished. He said I was doing the family proud, doing our father proud, helping to etch the Logan name into the fabric of this country.
He always had this grandstanding way about him, this ambition that could never be quenched. This casino was going to become one of the largest in the country outside of Vegas and Atlantic City, and the prospect of holding a title fight there to open it up was a real motivator for me, and for him.
Of course, I had plenty of time, with the casino a long way away from completion. But I'd pledged to Crash that by the time it was ready, I'd have the belt around my waist. Hopefully, this fight would be the first major step towards that goal.
The boxing club was deathly quiet when I stepped inside, no one but coach sitting and waiting by the ring. His face looked pretty grave as I walked in.
“What's up coach?” I asked cheerfully.
“Paul's sick,” he grunted, “he can't spar today.”
“What! You're kidding me.”
He shook his head. “I've called around but I haven't found a suitable replacement for you yet.”
“So what then? You just want me on the bags?”
“There's not much else we can do today. I've got a couple of guys lined up for tomorrow, so we'll have to just change the session up for now and get back on schedule then.”
I continued into the gym and threw my fist at a bag, sending it flying up into the air as I bellowing loudly.
“Well how about you,” I said, turning to Kyle. “You wanna take a few punches?”
His face screwed up. “After seeing that, hell no,” he said, looking at the bag still rocking around on its hook.
“Come on Kyle, you've been in a few fights in your time, it would really help me out.”
Coach walked in towards us from across the room, his eyes set on Kyle.
“You got any experience in the ring?” he asked.
Kyle shook his head. “No, and I'm not getting in with this psycho. Why don't you get Zack down here? He used to spar and box with you when you were younger.”
Yeah, he was right, Zack was perfect. Sure, he hadn't boxed in a while but he was always pretty good. He was the same weight and build as me, pretty much. He'd be ideal.
“That's your twin?” coach asked.
“Yeah, Zack, I'll give him a call.”
….
Zack
My head was pounding as my phone started buzzing furiously next to my bed.
I blinked at the clock on my wall – 7.05 AM – who the hell was calling me this early.
I reached for my phone and saw Cade's name.
“What could you possibly want with me at 7 AM on a Thursday morning!” I growled groggily down the phone as I answered it.
“Get up bro, I need you down at the boxing hall.”
“Huh. What are you talking about.”
“Look, I need you to train with me, I'm short on guys today. Seriously, get up and get down here.”
I sat up in bed, the fuzzy shroud over my eyes clearing.
“What do you mean train with you?”
“I need you to spar with me, you know, like you used to. Please bro, I need this.”
“Sorry Cade, I'm a little tied up.”
“Ah come on Zack, my fight's in a week. I need some help, come on.”
“All right, all right, but just don't expect much from me. I've had a rough night.”
“Great! That's great! Get down here ASAP.”
I shut off the phone and slid out of bed and away from the naked girl draped over my mattress. I didn't even remember her name.
I guess my head couldn't pound any more than it already was. What more could Cade's punches do to me?
Half an hour later I was stood in the ring ahead of him wearing a protective headguard and gloves. I hadn't been in the ring for years, and it felt strangely good to be back.
I remembered back to when we were kids, when we both used to go down to the boxing club together and train every evening and every weekend. We were both as good as each other back then, but soon Cade took the lead and he let me know it.
From then I began to lose interest in the sport, and when I went off to a different high school, I'd all but lost any early passion I'd had for it. Cade kept going, of course, kept training and fighting, and tried to convince me to do the same. But it wasn't the same for me anymore. I'd stepped out of his shadow at my new high school and didn't want to step back into it in my spare time.
I'd boxed casually every so often since then, mainly to help me keep fit, but I hadn't been back in the ring, not until now.
“OK Zack,” I could hear Cade's coach tell me, “just offer some resistance where you can. Try to remember what you used to know, all right? Keep your hands up in defence and let us know if it gets too much.”
I nodded, my brain still feeling like it was being compressed in a vice.
Screw this, I'd give him a proper fight.
I launched at him, despite my pounding head, or most probably because of it, the copious alcohol I'd drunk the previous night still swimming in my veins. To connect with just one punch, one punch to his face, that would be really gratifying for me right now.
He dodged to the side as I heard cries of 'whoa, whoa' from the two man crowd of 'coach' and Kyle.
Cade slipped me to the side, stepping, quick as a cat, as I went flying into the corner of the ring.
“Easy bro, lets just warm it up a little.”
I turned heavily and set my sights on him again, glaring at him through the gap in my headwear. He bent his legs and got into position, swaying confidently to the left and right, his eyes intense on me. He was in serious mode now, I could tell.
I steadied myself and crept in towards him, mimicking his stance, trying to recall everything I'd learned. It had always come naturally to me, boxing, but I'd lost it mentally. Cade, though, he was so strong in the head, always had been. Just another thing he had on me.
He stepped in and jabbed, his arm quick as lightning, but I managed to get my arms up in time. Before I knew it his fists were crashing into me from the left and right as he danced around the ring. His punches were hard, sending my brain rocketing around in my skull.
Fuck me for agreeing to this.
He kept on at me as I held my arms up, unable to free them, unable to even try to punch him. I guess this is what sparring was all about for him now – I was just a human punching bag, cannon fodder for his flying fists.
He stopped abruptly and held his hands up into the air. “Come on Zack, give me something here. You used to have something, where's it all gone.”
His words were goading, or that's how I took them. I swung wildly again, an anger towards him building in me and beginning to bubble to the surface, like lava threatening to cascade down a mountainside.
He swerved once more and stepped in back in towards me, but I covered up and twisted away from the reach of his punches. Before I knew it he was back on me though, his fist coming round the side like a fl
ash and connecting with the side of my head. It sent me stumbling over onto the ropes, my head spinning.
“All right boys,” I could hear Kyle say, “easy now.” Typical older brother, always trying to keep the peace between us. He'd played that role for years when we were little kids, fighting and scrapping over just about anything.
My head stopped spinning and I turned back to him. He was punching the air and darting around the ring in a show of his speed and skill.
Yeah yeah Cade, we know you're the fucking bomb. Dickhead.
I moved in again, the adrenaline now beginning to overtake the lingering traces of alcohol in my blood, the misty shroud beginning to lift. I breathed in deep and jabbed at him as he ducked and dived and sent his own jabs back at me.
For a moment or two we seemed like equals, two boxers with equal skill trying to break each other down. That's how we'd started when we were kids, but there was only one twin people were interested in now.
My inner anger continued to froth inside me as I sent a flurry of punches back at him, connecting only with air and his upheld gloves. It felt great, sending my fists at his face, watching him cover and cower. That's how I saw it – him cowering to me as I struck out at him.
Images of Gemma flashed through my head, thoughts of her and Cade together ripping at my mind. I kept punching and Cade kept ducking and diving. I could hear him shouting “good, good,” as I did, which only pissed me off even more. He could coach me and fight at the same time – for him this was nothing, a light warmup, and he could finish me off at any time if he wanted.
I kept jabbing and swinging until my tank began to run dry, my lack of sleep and excessive smoking sending me stumbling over into the corner to catch my breath.
“OK Zack,” Cade was telling me, “that was good, but just pace yourself OK. We know you've got skill. Use your feet a bit more, don't just come in swinging. Choose your moments...”
His voice blurred away inside my head. I couldn't listen to this shit. I shouldn't have come down here. It was the perfect representation of his superiority over me, physically running rings around me like this. It wasn't where I wanted to be right now.
The Logan Brothers - Books 1-4: (EXPOSURE, CRASH, TWIN PASSIONS, and ADDICTED TO YOU) Page 44