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

by Shorter, L. A.

  “And that's why I tried to shield you from it all!” he shouted. “I don't pretend to be the most moral person in the world; I know exactly who and what I am. But I didn't need you to be exposed to that Amy. I wanted you to live in a different world to my own.”

  “By controlling me? By telling me what I could and couldn't do?”

  “By trying to give you a normal life! I wanted you to grow up away from my world, away from all of this. That's why I never wanted you playing poker with my men. I didn't want you associating with them. That's why I wanted you to go to college, to get a proper education and start a real career as a doctor or lawyer or something.”

  “But what about what I wanted dad? I never wanted any of that. I always wanted to play poker, and I was good at it, so why try to stop me, why manipulate and control me like that?”

  “Because I know that world Amy! Poker dens, casinos, gambling clubs: I know the sort of people who live in that world. I wanted you out of it.”

  A silence fell on the room, the light sound of a lawnmower outside now growing clear to my ears. I hadn't wanted things to turn into an argument but it seemed to be inevitable. I guess after not seeing each other for 3 years, and with so much deep seated anger on both sides, it wasn't going to be all smooth sailing.

  “The world isn't as bad as you make it out dad,” I said quietly. “It's not all like the world you live in. Look at this place, look at all the guards around here. This isn't the real world. Your perception is skewed and warped...it always was.”

  He looked me dead in the eye. “No Amy, you know nothing of the real world. You're still just a kid. You have no idea what it's really like out there. People are mean and heartless. You can't trust anyone.”

  “It makes me sad that you feel that way dad, it really does. I guess your life has shaped you into this person. It's precisely why I wanted to leave.”

  I turned and started moving towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice rising once more.

  “I need more time to think. I can't be here right now.”

  I heard him rush up behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder and turning me around. “Amy...you know I love you, don't you.”

  I nodded, a smile cracking in the corners of my mouth.

  “You won't leave again, will you?” he continued.

  “I don't know dad. My life isn't in Branton any more.”

  I saw his eyes fall. He knew he couldn't stop me now. “Please, let's talk more. Stay a little longer.”

  I shook my head. “I can't dad, not now. We'll talk again soon. There's still so much to say.”

  I turned again and started moving off to the door.

  “Amy....where are you staying? Let me send a man with you, to know you're safe.”

  “I'd rather not say dad. I'm at a hotel, I'm perfectly safe.”

  I could sense this nervous energy rushing out of him. I'd never seen him agitated like this.

  “Please Amy. You could be in danger.”

  He spoke the words with a sense of guilt. Once again his life, his work, was putting his family in danger. Maybe I should never have come back.

  I shook my head, my words disappointed: “I'll take my chances.”

  With that I continued on through the house and out of the front door, moving quickly past the guards outside and down into my car before he had a chance to protest.

  I wanted to get out of here, away from this house, as soon as possible.

  And I wasn't sure I ever wanted to come back.

  Chapter 6

  Jude

  “So what do you call this place? The 'Den'? Not the most original name is it.”

  I was standing outside my little underground poker club, chatting with a friend of a friend. Brad, he was called. He suited the name, all brawn and no brain.

  “Yeah well I like to remain anonymous, all right! 'Den' is just a generic term for a poker place, so it helps me avoid attention.”

  “Avoid attention? Why would you wanna do that? Aren't you making money off this place.”

  I turned to my friend Luke, the guy who'd brought Brad along to play tonight. “Is this guy for real?! I asked him, half laughing, half pissed off.

  “Look Brad,” I said, turning back to him, “this place isn't legal, OK. I don't want anyone talking about it. That's why I've got Zig over here. You talk about it, and Zig comes to pay you a little visit.”

  Brad arched his neck over to the doorway where Zig was standing like a statue, arms clasped together in front of him. He was a brute, standing at about 6 feet 5 and weighing over 280. Basically, he was the size of a wrestler. And not one of the those small, amateur ones you see in the Olympics. No, I'm talking the wrestling entertainment guys who jump through tables and smash each other with chairs.

  “So Brad, just know what you're getting yourself into, OK. If you talk about this place to anyone, without my say-so, you're gonna get to know Zig real well. Capish?

  Brad nodded without saying anything. Fucking smart-ass.

  “All right fellas, come on down.”

  I turned and walked back to the door, Zig opening it up for me with one of his bear claws and holding it open as we all walked past his tree-trunk of an arm.

  The place was nothing to look at, but that was the idea. From the outside it was just a door set against a brick wall down the back-alley of a run down building. Just beyond the door was a metal staircase, leading down into a basement.

  In the basement was a poker table, circular and set up with about 10 comfortable chairs around it. The walls were bare brick, with the odd poster or painting hanging up for decoration. There were dim lights in the corners of the room, and a large one hanging over the table itself.

  To one side was a swinging door that led through into a kitchen. Inside were fridges and cupboards stocked with a range of snack foods and beverages, all given away for free. Next door to the kitchen was a toilet, and on the opposite side of the room was a final door, which I used as a makeshift office.

  The office was small, but was necessary for running the place and sorting out its finances. Inside I had a safe, built into the wall, containing 'credit' money that I'd give out to certain clients when they came to play. So far only one had been unreliable in paying me back when he lost two large, so Zig did what I paid him for. A couple of days later I had my money, plus interest.

  We rounded the bottom of the staircase and I introduced Brad to some of the other players. There were a couple of regulars down there, plus a couple more who'd only recently been introduced. I could say one thing about the place: word was beginning to spread about it, and that made me feel both excited and nervous at the same time.

  Luke and Brad sat down and joined the game. They had their own money with them so didn't ask for credit. I wouldn't have given Brad much of a limit, if any. He seemed like a flight risk.

  The final guy at the table was the dealer. I had a couple I used, and paid them well to keep their mouths shut. He'd deal the cards and manage the game, that's all.

  Zig would stand at the back, watching closely. His job was to act as enforcer and make sure everything ran smoothly. If I needed to leave or go off for some business, I'd either leave him there or would take him with me as my right hand man, leaving another bouncer to fill in for him.

  I really felt like a mini gangster. It felt right, like it was what I was born to do, following on in my father's footsteps. The buzz, the excitement of it all, the potential returns; all of it appealed so much to me. Much more than running that bar. No, I'd built this little business from scratch, and it was serving me well so far.

  I let the game run for a while before sitting in myself. I liked to play a lot, see if I could increase my personal returns by taking these guys' money straight off the table. Just when things were going well, however, I got a phone call from my head bartender at Sparks. He told me there was a problem with some delivery and that I needed to get over there quickly to sort it out.

 
I left Zig in charge and headed straight across town to the bar. The place was quiet, some staff still prepping it for the night ahead. Round the back I found my head bartender, Craig, arguing with some obnoxious delivery guy. Turned out he'd sent the wrong order and was saying it was a fault on our end, not his.

  After joining the debate we eventually got to the bottom of it and got a fresh load of alcohol ordered to be delivered the next day. Our stocks were running low, but thankfully it was only a Monday night, not a Friday or Saturday.

  Just as I was finishing up, my cell buzzed again in my pocket and I picked it up.

  “Boss, we've got a bit of a problem....well, not a problem, but.....”

  “What is it Zig?” I asked quickly. Problems at the bar were one thing, but a problem at my illegal poker club could be something a lot more serious.

  “Nothing major boss. There's this girl, she turned up to play poker. I don't know how she heard about the place, but she's got 5 large on her, said she's a pro looking for a game.”

  “And....what did you do?”

  “Er, I left her outside to confirm with you. She doesn't seem to be a threat boss, she's just this little girl.”

  “Did you get her name?”

  “Yeah, Amy something. Shall I let her play or kick her out?”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Kinda dark red hair, maybe a foot shorter than me. She's hot boss.”

  My eyes lit up. Dark red hair, hot, playing poker. Was it my mystery girl?!

  “No, no, let her play. I want to see her myself.”

  ….

  Amy

  I pulled up on the street in a pretty run-down area of town. It wasn't somewhere I remembered as a kid, but it felt like just what I needed right now.

  I had contacts all over the country in the poker world and, no matter where I went, I'd always be able to find a poker club running a high-roller game somewhere.

  After being back at my old house, after seeing my dad again, all I wanted to do was find somewhere safe, somewhere familiar. It was ironic that this dangerous looking alley was just what I was looking for. The poker table was my home, and I wanted to go somewhere away from prying eyes right now.

  I stepped out of my car and saw a scratched and rusty metal door down the alley between two buildings. I moved towards it and knocked, the sound clanging loudly down the dank alley and onto the street.

  I waited a moment, my heart rate rising slightly. It used to go wild when I'd turn up at these sorts of doors, never quite knowing who'd open it. Now I was adept at keeping my emotions in check – for the most part anyway.

  I heard footsteps, loud and heavy, pacing up towards me from inside. Then, suddenly, the door opened a crack and a burly man peered through the opening.

  “Yeah?” he grunted, his eyes twitching up and down the alley around me.

  “I heard this is a poker club?” I said calmly. “What's the minimum buy-in? Is this high rollers only?”

  The door opened up a bit further and the man stepped out, revealing his true size and shape. He was enormous, but I'd seen plenty of muscle like this guy before.

  He said nothing, but eyed me suspiciously.

  “I've got $5,000, is that enough to play?” I continued.

  His eyes ran over me, trying to work me out. “You're a pro poker player?” he asked, unsure as to whether this was a wind-up.

  I nodded, and pulled the roll of cash out of my handbag. “I've heard this place is well run, that I'll be safe down there. Are you the manager?” I knew he wasn't, but I also knew he'd take the question as a compliment. The guy had probably spent his entire life being dismissed as a meathead.

  He shook his head.

  “Is he here?”

  “Not right now.” He looked on at me once more, still looking a little unsure as to what to do, before saying “stay here a moment,” and shutting the door.

  I heard his deep voice booing beyond the door, but was unable to hear what he was saying. I didn't need to hear the detail – I knew he was calling his boss for permission to let me down.

  After a couple of minutes the door opened up once again and the giant reappeared.

  “You can play,” he said, opening the door up fully and letting me pass.

  I could hear the immediate sound of chatter inside, men's voices sounding loudly as they played and drank and smoked. I rarely met any women in these places, and sometimes wasn't even let in because of my gender.

  I'd reconciled myself with that – this was a man's world, but I was going to make my mark.

  I continued down the steps as the men all turned up to look at me.

  “Well look what we've got here,” one said.

  “Hey Zig, we getting strippers as perks as well now,” joked another.

  Again, I was used to such masculine banter. I rose above it and took their money in return.

  I slid into a spare chair at the table and pulled the $5,000 bundle from my handbag.

  “There's 5 large there,” I said to the dealer, who quickly shuffled through the notes before passing me a stack of chips.

  I glanced round the table to see that a couple of the guys had similar stacks, with one guy a bit smaller, and the other a lot larger. About $30,000 at this table. Plenty for the taking.

  I started slow, happy to take the comments and sexist remarks that were being flung at me. I welcomed them. It meant they weren't concentrating on the game 100%.

  I was, and that gave me an advantage.

  After 30 minutes I'd made about $1,200.

  After an hour I was up $3,000.

  I was making quick work of these guys but knew that my time was running short. Call it woman's intuition or whatever you want but I was always good at quitting while I was ahead. I'd walked in with 5 thousand and was walking out with 8 after just an hour. That was enough for now.

  I told the dealer of my intentions and he counted up my money, 'Zig' the giant standing closely nearby and watching.

  None of the guys moaned about me leaving so soon. I loved it when I got that reaction. I'd silenced the lot of the fuckers, and it felt great.

  I took my cash and went back up the stairs, appearing back out into the alley as the light began to dim outside.

  One hour's work, $3,000 profit. Why the hell would I want a real 'career'?”

  ….

  Jude

  The journey back from Sparks to the Den was taking a fucking age. Monday was always particularly bad for rush hour traffic, and it always seemed to be worse when you were in a hurry to get somewhere.

  And I was in a hurry. Big time.

  This girl sounded like Ace. Amy, that's what Zig had said she'd called herself. Pretty name. Just like her.

  I could smell her again, that subtle perfume, the smell of her sweat as she writhed beneath me. I could taste the salt on her skin, the hint of raspberry on her lips. I could feel her soft thighs on top of me, straddling me in bed.

  She was intoxicating, addictive. I'd never met a girl who had this effect on me. I wanted to see her again, needed to touch her, kiss her. She was like a drug, like my own personal heroin. I'd never become addicted to gambling, never grown addicted to alcohol or drugs. But this girl, she was all of it combined.

  I smashed my foot to the floor and blasted through traffic, horns blaring and lights flashing around me. I didn't even know if it was her or not, but I needed to find out. I was cursed from open windows as I stopped at the lights, both men and women happy to shout abuse at me for my reckless driving.

  Did I care? Fuck no. They can all go fuck themselves.

  I powered down the street as I burst though the worst of the beeping horns and frustrated commuters in the center of town onto quieter and quicker roads.

  Soon I was there, zipping up the street towards the alley. I saw a car parked outside, just before where the alley opened up between the buildings, and slowed down to a crawl.

  When I saw a girl step quickly from the darkness and approach the car I stopped
suddenly. I was still well over 100 feet away and couldn't quite make her out as the light faded. She had red hair, as Zig had said, and looked to be the right height. But that was it. Fuck it, I couldn't be sure.

  I made a move to step out of the car and rush up behind her but the car lurched off all of a sudden, pulling out onto the road and cruising off.

  Fuck it!

  I had no choice but to follow, keeping my distance and pulling out as I saw the car turn left up the street.

  I was a true stalker now, tailing someone who may or may not be some girl I screwed the other night. Jesus what was happening to me? Thank God no one can see me right now.

  My phone began buzzing on the passenger seat and I quickly picked it up, keeping my eyes stuck on the car ahead.

  “Boss, the girl's gone. Just thought I'd let you know.”

  “Cheers Zig, don't worry about it, it's nothing.” Fuck if I was gonna tell him I was tailing her right now. “Something's come up, I need you to keep running the place for now.”

  “Yes boss, no problem.”

  “Don't let anyone else in, OK. Not until I get back.”

  “What if a regular turns up?”

  “That's fine. No one we don't know, whether they're with a regular or not. This thing's getting outta control.”

  “Yes boss, I got it.”

  I threw the phone back down onto the seat and strained my eyes as a series of lights flashed up ahead. The car was stopping at a set of traffic lights, cruising to a snails pace. I carried on up behind it, making ground, and stopped at a close distance.

  I could see the girl through the back window, but couldn't see her face. All I got was the back of her head, the same beautiful and rich red color that the girl had had the other night. It wasn't something I saw often.

  I couldn't see her face, but for flashes in the mirror. It wasn't enough, not through the window at the back of her car. The light was fading fast now and the glare from the cars and street lamps around were obscuring my vision. All I could do was follow.