With his words still shooting through my head I stepped through the ropes and out of the ring.
“You need a break?” I could hear him ask.
“Toilets are in the back,” said coach as I stepped down from the ring.
But I wasn't listening to them. I kept walking back towards the entrance, ripping the gloves and headwear off and throwing them to the floor as I went.
I could hear Cade calling after me as I went. “Zack, where are you going? What are you doing Zack, you were doing well...”
I didn't listen. I didn't turn around. I just walked straight out into the morning sunshine, climbed into my car, and drove off.
Chapter 14
Present Day
Gemma
When I was called in to see Mrs Banks a week before Cade's fight I had pretty much given up hope that I'd be able to give her what she wanted. I knew, then, that the promotion I had so longed for would now be nothing more than a pipe dream.
With a consoling word of 'good luck' from Annie I left my desk and approached her office, getting the nod from Brenda, her secretary, to go straight in.
I steeled my nerves as I turned the handle to the door and walked in, away from the chatter of the office behind me, and into the quiet of the lions den.
Mrs Banks sat, as always, behind her desk, her eyes refusing to meet me for a good few moments. She did that every single time she called me to her office, a clear show that her time was far more important than mine.
Eventually she pulled her head up from whatever she was doing on her computer and looked me dead in the eye, a sinister smile creeping across her face.
“Please do take a seat Gemma,” she said, nodding at the empty chair on the other side of her desk.
I sat and waited for the inevitable.
“So, how are you coming along with our story about young Mr Logan? Have you found the sort of thing I'm looking for?”
I was prepared for the worst now, so didn't waste time trying to sugar coat things.
“I'm afraid not. I've tried, Mrs Banks, I really have, but I can't find anything interesting about Cade that you'd want to print.”
Her face went from amenable to displeased in an instant, her facade dropping.
“Well that's a real shame Gemma, it really is. Tell me, what have you done to try to find your story?”
I hesitated before telling her. Frankly I was ashamed of what I'd done.
“I looked around his apartment when he wasn't there. There was nothing.”
“You looked around his apartment? Anything else?”
“Umm, well no. I mean, I don't know what else I can do to be honest.”
She sat back in her chair, a look of total dissatisfaction spreading across her face. “Well this is disappointing.” I could see her mind ticking over deviously.
“Well, I suppose if you've tried, you've tried. I honestly thought that Mr Logan would have a few secrets you might unveil for me. But, if he's clean, he's clean.” Her voice was turning lighter, more breezy.
“So I guess I won't get that promotion then,” I asked tentatively, already knowing what she'd say.
“Well I'm afraid that's unlikely Gemma. Tara has pitched me an excellent story that I think our readers will love. It's the sort of thing I was hoping you could deliver – scandal, drama, betrayal. If it works out the way she's hoping it will, I'm afraid the job will be hers.”
I nodded. “And my current job?” I said, still sheepish.
She went silent for a second and turned away from me, looking out of the window. I couldn't tell whether she was actually thinking about it or whether she was just dragging it out to be cruel. And I didn't really know why I cared so much.
Without that promotion I wasn't sure whether I wanted to be in the job anyway, it was boring the life out of me. And knowing Mrs Banks as I now did, knowing the sort of person she was, I wasn't sure my career would be best served by staying with Us and Them.
The thought gave me some confidence, took the pressure off her decision. Go ahead and fire me then, see if I care. I'll be just fine, I'll find a good job somewhere else. I graduated from a good college, I'm smart, I'm ambitious. Yeah, do your worst Banks, because I don't give a shit anymore.
She turned back to me and my expression had changed, hardened from the soft, needy look I must have walked into the room wearing.
“You are good at what you do Gemma,” she eventually conceded in a rare moment of praise, “so it would be a shame to lose you entirely. I really don't know if you have what it takes to go that extra mile, though, to really dig deep for that great story. I fear you'll always just be adding filler to magazines and papers unless you change your outlook on all of this.”
A part of me appreciated the criticism. After all, I wanted to know where my weaknesses lay so that I could work on them. Constructive criticism was always a positive thing when taken in the right light.
And yet another part of me wanted to slap the bitch right across the face. Yeah, I got that you had to be willing to dig for a story. Yeah, I understood that you needed to be ruthless sometimes in your hunt for the truth. But what the stupid fucking cow didn't seem to acknowledge was the fact that this was my fucking boyfriend, and that, yes, I had sneaked into his apartment without him knowing to try to do her bidding.
It was a mistake I'd never make again. There was a moral line that I wouldn't cross. She was making it seem as though every damn journalist in the world was a backstabbing, morally devoid cretin, willing to screw anyone over to get a good story and further their career. Just because she fit that profile didn't mean everyone else did.
I stared at her for a while before thanking her for the second chance and walking back to my desk. I was, obviously, sarcastic when I thanked her, just to make sure she knew how ungrateful I actually was.
I could feel my blood boiling at her insufferable arrogance as I sat back at my desk, the dripping rainforest screensaver on my computer doing nothing to settle me down.
“You just don't have what it takes,” I muttered under my breath. “What a bitch.”
I could be ruthless when I wanted to be. Hell, if some story came up about her I'd gladly tell it.
I bet she's got a million skeletons gathering dust in her closet. She was so adamant that Cade, and everyone for that matter, had secrets they wouldn't want people to know about. Anyone who thinks like that must surely have their own.
How I'd love to find some dirt on her and watch her squirm. I could use it as collateral to get me the job or maybe give it to another magazine so that they could print it about her. I could laugh as I watch her reputation fall into ruin and her career crumble around her.
I must have been smiling deviously, as Annie picked up on the look on my face straight away, appearing suddenly in front of me over the divider between our desks.
“Hey babe, how'd it go with Banks? And...why are you smiling like that?!”
I was broken out of my little daydream – one where I was laughing maniacally as I looked down on the front page news of Martha Banks being carted from the building in shame – by Annie's voice.
“Oh, nothing, just thinking about something.”
“What...?” she asked, her voice sceptical.
“Oh, just the idea of Banks' career burning to the ground.”
“Ah. So it went badly then?” She sounded disappointed, but not wholly surprised. “It's OK, we'll find you a new job.”
“No, she said I could keep the job.”
“What! Well that's great news isn't it?” she exclaimed.
I wasn't so convinced. I was only sticking around to see if I could get promoted. No chance of that now.
“Not really. She's gonna give the promotion to that snake Tara Bradley. I mean, at least if it was someone I liked I could be OK with it, but her! It just stinks. I think I'm going to quit anyway. I can't work with Banks anymore, not now that I know what sort of person she is.”
Annie was nodding quietly, letting me vent.
“Yeah, well I'd put that out of your mind if I were you Gem. It's a waste of time thinking like that.”
I nodded grumpily. “You're probably right. Always the voice of reason.”
“Look, you're so early in your career. It'll happen for you, if not here, then somewhere else. I mean, come on babe, you haven't been here long. Just keep working and things will happen naturally. Don't push it, OK?”
I nodded my agreement.
“You promise you'll drop it?”
“Sure,” I lied, “I promise.”
Chapter 15
Present Day
Gemma
I must have been mad. What I was about to do could get me into serious trouble. And I'm not talking 'get fired' trouble, I'm talking real trouble, police trouble.
But only if I got caught. And that wasn't going to happen.
I walked confidently into the building, my bag slung over my shoulder. There was a single security guy at the door to whom I flashed my I.D. before continuing on through towards the lifts.
I stepped inside and pressed the button for the 4th floor. I'd been here once on a Sunday morning before, and it was like a ghost-office, no one around. I hoped to God that today would be the same.
The lift pinged and opened and I was greeted with a sight that brought a smile to my face. There was no one at the main reception desk in front of me.
I walked straight on past the desk and down towards the two double glass doors that led onto the main office floor. I knew there were cameras downstairs and that I'd have been clocked coming into the building. But once inside, there were none. What I was about to do, therefore, wasn't going to be recorded.
I continued through the double doors, my outer confidence belying how I was feeling inside. Inside, my heart was racing, my mouth dry, my mind running at 100 miles per hour.
I glanced quickly round the office as I entered and saw no movement. We'd only just gone to print with the latest magazine at the end of the previous week, so I doubt anyone had any urgent work to get done. If it was two or three weeks later, they'd be people here, their deadlines forcing them to work on a Sunday. Today, thankfully, the place was silent.
I walked towards my desk and sat for a few moments, gathering my thoughts and scouting the place out. I waited to see if anyone would come, if anyone was already there, but the office stayed as it was: eerily quiet.
After several minutes I'd gathered my nerves sufficiently to stand and start moving off away from my desk, and down the corridor to the office I'd visited on so many occasions over the last couple of weeks.
I held my breath as I walked forward, straining my eyes to see if anyone was inside. I could make out the shape of her desk in the corner of the room but no one was behind it. I kept on going, my breathing now growing faster and faster, until I reached the door. I looked through the glass to see an empty space. She wasn't inside.
Now was the moment of truth. I reached for the door handle and turned it, praying for it to be unlocked. Or was I praying for the opposite? I couldn't quite tell anymore. Part of me wanted the door to be locked so I could just turn around and forget I'd ever been there. The other part wanted to keep on going, keep digging as she'd so often told me to do.
“You've got to be ruthless, Gemma, if you want to succeed in this business.” Was this ruthless enough for you Mrs Banks?
I turned the handle and heard the door click and glide open. Fuck it, there was no going back now.
Slowly I walked in, carefully shutting the door behind me. I looked at the computer sitting lifeless on her desk. I'd never get into it, not without the password. I'd had enough trouble breaking Cade's code, so there was no way I'd be able to work out what Martha Banks' secret word might be. Probably kitten-killer or something like that.
The room was fairly bare, barring the desk and a set of sofas sitting opposite each other with a glass coffee table in the middle. That was where I'd sat when she'd first asked me to betray Cade.
The only other point of interest was a tall filing cabinet lined up against the far wall. I walked towards it and opened up the highest drawer. Inside were folders lined up alphabetically with surnames and initials.
Albert, B
Ansbro, L, S
Aster, T
I searched quickly through the files, hoping they'd be one marked Banks, M. Use your head Gemma. Why the hell would she keep a file on herself?
There wasn't. There was a Banks, F, but on closer inspection it was someone totally unconnected to her.
I stood for a moment, thinking, before opening the second drawer up and looking through the lettered sections.
L, that's what I was looking for.
My curiosity was now spilling over as I flicked through the names, searching for one in particular. Yes, there it is.
Logan, C.
My heart rate quickened further as I carefully pulled the file from the drawer. Was it Cade? Crash. No, it was Charles, their father.
The file was bigger than the others, thick with papers and pictures. I walked over to the coffee table and opened it up, my eyes searching frantically. I had no idea what I was looking for, I was just looking, curious to find out more about this man who Cade called dad, this man who'd only recently been murdered.
I flicked through the files, many of them articles relating to business ventures that Charles Logan had been involved in. Martha Banks clearly had a heavy interest in this man, and this file had obviously been compiled over many years.
My eyes stopped on a smaller folder inside marked 'personal'. It was hidden at the bottom, the corners of the folder crumpled and creased. It looked old and worn, as if it might split with too much heavy handling.
I carefully pulled it out and opened it up to be greeted by an image at the top. There was a man and a woman in the picture. They were hugging and looking over at the camera, smiling wide and bright. I recognized the resemblance with Cade and his brothers immediately.
But it wasn't a young Charles Logan that really caught my eye. It was the woman he was hugging. She looked about 15 years younger than she did now, her hair wavy and dark, her smile pretty. She looked fresh and happy, her face unhindered by the numerous botox injections and facial plastic surgeries she'd had.
It was Martha Banks.
I moved the picture to the side and was greeted by another, one of the two of them kissing on the beach, and another of them eating dinner under the setting sun. They were candid photos, personal photos, photos that I doubt anyone else had ever seen.
Mingled in among the pictures of the two of them were letters, love letters sent from him to her. The more I read the more it became clear in my head what I was seeing.
Martha Banks and Charles Logan had had an affair long ago, one that seemed to go on for years going by the dates on the letters and images. I knew it was an affair because her husband had only died several years ago after a long marriage, and Cade's dad had been with his wife until she passed when he was a young teenager. So this must have been a secret romance, one involving two married people, one I doubt anyone ever knew about.
It would be something that Martha Banks would have kept hidden all her life, something she would be desperate to keep from coming to the public's attention.
I turned my mind back to the letters, my eyes skimming over them as the months and years went by. They spoke of their secret love, their secret relationship, hidden from everyone. Eventually, however, the letters grew more brief, more infrequent, before doubts clearly began to creep into Charles Logan's head.
He spoke of the guilt that was building, how he loved his wife and wanted to stay with her. He had a young family, and 5 boys who he needed to be there for. He couldn't leave them for her, he couldn't choose her over his wife, his family. He'd called a close to their relationship, ending
their long affair, and breaking Martha Banks' heart.
I began to understand who she really was as I read through the letters and looked over the photos. She'd loved him dearly and he'd broken her heart. Even though it was a love built on betrayal and secrecy, she'd fallen deeply for him. It had given her the hard edge she possessed today, the ruthless and uncaring streak that had seen her rise to prominence in the years that followed.
But I knew she'd never gotten over it. I knew that from how she was so keen to find dirt on the Logan's, even to this day. She'd recruited me to try to dig up dirt on Cade, on Charles Logan's offspring. She clearly harbored a deep resentment towards them. Ever since he'd chosen his family over her, she'd wanted to see him suffer.
She was a broken woman, hurt beyond repair, and now lost in her own hardened shell. She'd lived alone with the truth for years, not telling anyone, keeping it all bottled up.
But now I knew. Now I, too, knew the truth.
Chapter 16
Present Day
Zack
I woke up with a pounding headache. The feeling had become pretty common for me over the last few months, and even more so during the last week.
I should have been jumping out of bed, excited, and a little nervous, for my twin brother. Tonight he'd face the biggest fight of his life, the best opponent he'd ever come up against. It was a massive opportunity for him to really stake his claim on the title, and any normal brother would have been right behind him every step of the way.
But I didn't feel normal anymore. I felt broken.
I stepped out of bed and sunk several painkillers to try to calm down the incessant beating in my head. I had to man up and move past all of this, it was really eating away at me. It was about a week ago now, since I stormed off after a few minutes of light sparring with Cade, and I hadn't spoken to him since.
He was probably wondering what the fuck I was doing, why I was acting like a spoilt brat, throwing my toys out of the pram and walking out on him when he needed my help. If only I was honest and actually told him what was going on in my head, he'd probably understand. But no, I just kept it all inside, unwilling to reveal my insecurities to anyone.
The Logan Brothers - Books 1-4: (EXPOSURE, CRASH, TWIN PASSIONS, and ADDICTED TO YOU) Page 45