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

by Shorter, L. A.

  The trickle stopped and I heard her step out into the room. She seemed to be tiptoeing, trying not to make a sound, as if she didn't want me to hear her.

  “Trying to sneak off again are you?” I asked, sitting up and pulling the sheet over my waist.

  She turned around suddenly, as if startled, and exhaled sharply.

  “Jesus, Jude, you made me jump. I thought you were sleeping?”

  The smile fell from my face as I saw what she was doing. She was pulling clothes from a drawer, quietly dropping them into a suitcase. She was trying to sneak off.

  “What is it with you?” I asked. “Why are you running away again?”

  “I'm not running away Jude. I'm just...leaving.”

  I stood up, the towel dropping off me, and looked sharply around for my underwear. They were hanging up on a lampshape. God knows how they got up there.

  I grabbed them and pulled them quickly on as Amy looked on at me mournfully.

  “It was only meant to be one night before Jude. Last night was...amazing...but it was never meant to happen.”

  I walked in towards her. “Look, let's get some breakfast or something. We can talk.”

  She shook her head and grabbed another load of clothes from the drawer. “I can't...I'm sorry.”

  “Why not. What's your problem?”

  She looked up at me. “Look Jude, I don't want to complicate anything. I'm not staying here, so what's the point?”

  “I don't know. Because we have fun together. Because we like each other maybe. Look, what's the harm?”

  “That's the harm...the fact that I do like you. I might be leaving in a couple of days. I don't make attachments, it's not me, it's not my life.”

  I felt, once again, like I was the woman in this scenario. It was a fucking role reversal. She was playing me and I was playing, well, one of any number of women I'd slept with before. But I couldn't help it, I didn't care. I felt drawn to this chick like I'd never been drawn to anyone.

  She was rushing around the room now, picking up any straggling garments and stuffing them into her bag. “Look, I'm sorry, OK. I am. If I was staying things would be different. But I'm not, so this is how it is. It's better for both of us if I just leave now.”

  “But this is your hotel,” I said, “you're the one staying here, not me.”

  I turned and pulled on my shirt, a couple of the top buttons ripped off it, before picking my pants up from the floor. “If anyone should go, it should be me.”

  I looked around the room, my eyes searching for my socks. Where are my fucking socks. I shouted the words in my head. I was an addict being denied his drug, and it was tearing at me inside.

  “No,” she said, zipping up her bag and slipping into her shoes. “I have to leave here now. I'll find another hotel.”

  I was ripping at the bed as she spoke, throwing sheets off as I looked for my socks. I felt her hand land on my shoulder and my movements slowed and stopped. Then she hugged me, her chest pressing against my back, her lips touching the back of my neck.

  “I'm sorry Jude,” she said. “I wish things were different, but they're not.”

  I exhaled heavily as her warmth left me again. I could hear her walking towards the door.

  “At least tell me your surname,” I said solemnly, still facing the other way.

  I heard the door open and her voice quietly in the doorway: “I can't.”

  Then the door shut, and she was gone again.

  Chapter 8

  Amy

  I always loved Adam's Park in the center of the city. It was like a mini version of Central Park in New York, a place where people would come and relax under the summer sun, having picnics and parties and walking their dogs.

  I used to come here when I was younger with my mom. We'd walk together down to the large pond in the middle and feed the ducks. As a kid you could get such joy from simple pleasures like that, but it was never the same when you grew up.

  I sat on a bench now, a small loaf of bread in my hand, ripping pieces off and throwing them to the swarming birds. Moorhens and geese joined the feast, all of them fighting for the scraps I threw into the water.

  I thought of Jude and the night I met him. Maybe these were the same ducks who'd been sleeping on the bank? Maybe they'd awoken when we splashed and swam in the water? Maybe they'd watched us disturb their evening, breaking the calm of that quiet night.

  I felt bad for the way I'd left the other day, walking out on him like that. I wasn't that person. I didn't like to hurt people or let them down. But my life was like this now, I was like this: never committing to anyone, to anything; keeping myself free to move on like the changing of the winds.

  I'd grown closed off over the last few years, unwilling to let people through my defences. He'd broken me down twice, catching me off guard, getting under my skin and under my sheets. I'd let him through, been drawn into him, and now he was inching into my thoughts. It was exactly what I always avoided. If I never got close to anyone, I'd never get hurt. It would always be easier like that.

  It was a Thursday afternoon, and I'd been back for just over a week. When I left Jude on Tuesday morning I went straight for my hire car and drove to a motel on the outskirts of town. It was cheaper, more remote, out in a place I didn't recognize, didn't know. I liked it like that.

  The world continued to flow by around me, people trickling past lazily as they gazed up at the warm sun. There were couples, young and old, holding hands and talking quietly. There were families, large and small, feeding the ducks to my left and right and playing with their energetic dogs.

  I looked beyond the pond upon the wide open space in the middle of the park, its boundaries surrounded by trees, offering shade for some people who sat beneath them on picnic blankets, eating, drinking, laughing, reading. Footballs were being thrown about, no doubt by college kids enjoying their time out of class. An envy grew in me at the sight. Friends. Groups of people having fun. I used to have that. Not any more.

  But I wasn't going to complain. The life I led now was a dream for most people: traveling, playing a game I love, making plenty of money, driving a nice car, staying in nice hotels. I knew people who did the same and we'd see each other in poker clubs and casinos from time to time. I even had a few people I'd stay with in some cities, so I wasn't completely friendless.

  But then, there was something missing, that closeness that you'd get from deep friendships, from your parents and family, from your boyfriend or girlfriend. Ever since my mom died I'd turned down this route, becoming more isolated and self sufficient. I'd stopped spending so much time with my friends and ended up losing them as I drifted away.

  In some ways, subconsciously, I was doing it as preparation. I knew I'd be leaving soon, and I knew my life would change forever when I did. At that time I never expected to return to Branton. Like a child I thought I could cut it out of my life forever and forget everything in my past; forget my father and the way I'd grown up; forget the death of my mother. But, of course, I couldn't. I began to realize that if I didn't confront my past, I'd never be able to build a proper future.

  I looked down at my watch. It was coming up to 3 PM now, and time was pressing. I threw the last remains of the loaf of bread into the water and stood, swinging my handbag over my shoulder.

  I had a date.

  ….

  Jude

  It was about midday on a Thursday afternoon, and I had a few people down at the poker club engaged in a 24 hour straight session.

  Some of these guy were fucking machines. They'd come down one evening and wouldn't leave until the next. They'd literally play all night and straight through the next day as well, fuelled by my well stocked supplies of snack food and alcohol. If they wanted anything I didn't have, I'd send someone off to get it for them.

  Frankly, I'd do anything to keep these guys around. The longer they stayed, the more my cut would be at the end of the night. I'd take a percentage of the profits people made and, if someone won big, so did
I. When I had a couple of guys down here all night, they'd be clearing people out over and over again and building a massive fucking stack of money. By the time they left, my 'commission' for the night could be up into the thousands..

  I'd left Zig running the show the previous night while I went off and took care of the bar. I had to keep up appearances over there as much as possible, just in case Crash had his all-seeing-eye on me.

  By the time the bar shut, I was fucking spent so went home to catch some rest. I told Zig to let me know if there were any problems, but there rarely were. Now I was back, and the same damn guys who I'd seen come in during the early evening were still there, heavy bags under their eyes, wearily slumped in their chairs.

  Zig looked just as bad, still keeping watch from behind. He was a fucking trooper that guy, this ever present force in the room that you just didn't wanna fuck with.

  I came down the metal stairs and patted 'The King' on the back. This guy put a fair bit of money in my pocket, coming down every now and then for these all night sessions. I swear, I'd never seen him bust out and lose his cash once. Every single time, he'd stand up and walk away in heavy profit. That's why I called him 'The King'.

  “Still working huh King?” I asked as my hand hit the top of his shoulder.

  He merely grunted and looked at his cards. I knew, by this point, I wasn't going to get much out of him.

  There was another guy at the table who'd been there all night as well. He'd come down a couple of times, but wasn't a proper regular. Finally, filling a couple more spaces, were two young college kids, probably with rich parents, who'd come down from time to time and blow their money after a night out.

  I'll bet King is loving having them around.

  I shuffled over to Zig, who looked half dead, and stepped in close. “Any trouble last night?” I asked, glancing up at his giant frame.

  “Nothing boss. King's been cleaning up.”

  I nodded. “OK, head home and get some rest. I can take it from here.”

  Zig nodded before lumbering off towards the stairs. He stamped heavily up them, sending this metal clanging sound crashing around the room.

  “Hey, hey,” said King, turning his head and shooting Zig the evils. “Keep it down, will ya.”

  Zig lightened his steps and carried on before disappearing out into the early afternoon air.

  I moved into the kitchen to see a few bottles of whiskey had been sunk over the course of the evening. I took a swig of a half full bottle before filling a glass and trotting back through the main room and into my office. I sat down and slumped into the chair, wrecked. With the week I'd had I hadn't been sleeping that well.

  It had only been a couple of days since Amy ran out on me for the second time, and the girl would not get out of my head. It must have been lust, but it felt like more. No damn girl usually made me feel like this. I reckon it must be this 'playing hard to get' thing. It really does fucking work!

  I ran through some paperwork for an hour or so before hearing a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door opened and Gus walked in. I'd called him down to watch the door while Zig was away. He was a similar type: big lad, ex marine.

  “Mr Logan, there's a guy upstairs who wants to come down.”

  “Has he been here before? Do I know him?” I don't know why I asked. Gus was new and he'd only just moved to town. He had no idea of anything round here.

  “Er, I don't know Mr Logan.”

  Fucks sake. The last thing I wanted to do right now was screen another newbie. Frankly this entire place was getting out of hand. How had this guy heard of us? People just weren't keeping their fucking mouths shut, that was the problem.

  I stood up and walked through the door as Gus held it open. Oh I'll find out exactly who's been running their tongue. I'll ask this fucking guy outright and then teach his blabbermouth friend a lesson in keeping secrets.

  I walked purposefully to the stairs and marched up them.

  “Gus, stick with me,” I said as I went.

  I might need the guy.

  When I reached the top of the stairs, however, and opened the door, my lungs almost collapsed in my chest.

  Holy fuck, what the hell was he doing here?!

  “Mr O'Brien,” I said quickly, my voice going suddenly high, as if my balls had just shot back up into my body. “What can I do for you?”

  “So you know me?” he asked, his voice calm and composed. To his sides stood two guards, both of them wearing black suits and shades. They both looked like Neo out of the Matrix, only with shaved heads and mean faces.

  “Yes sir, I know you.”

  Of course I knew Conor O'Brien. Anyone who'd spent any length of time in this city knew Conor O'Brien. He was the big man in town, the top boss for any organized crime that went on. He had a public face with official businesses – that's how most people knew him – but he also had a dark underbelly, dealing in drugs and ruling certain districts with an iron fist.

  “And I know you,” he responded. “You're Jude Logan. I knew your father.”

  I nodded, trying to work out why a man like him would be at a little poker club like this. Was he looking for a cut on my business? Was I operating in his territory? I hadn't even thought about that before, but I guess that's how these real gangsters worked.

  “Yes Mr O'Brien, you worked together didn't you?”

  He smiled. “A fine man he was, I was sad to hear of his death.”

  “Thank you sir, it was a real shock.”

  He kept looking at me, waiting for me to speak. I didn't know what else to say but to ask the same question again: “so what can I do for you sir?”

  He looked over my shoulder and past Gus, who clearly had no idea who this guy was. “I understand you're running a poker club down there?”

  Shit, I hadn't thought about him. I didn't want Crash to find out. I didn't want the authorities to find out. I'd forgotten about Conor fucking O'Brien.

  “Um, yeah, well it's used for a couple of things. We play poker sometimes, yes.”

  His face hardened. “Don't lie to me Jude. You're running an illegal poker club here aren't you?”

  I dropped my head a little, this pathetic subservient look running over my face. I couldn't imagine Crash looking like this, or my father. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  He smiled again, his expression loosening up. “Well then, I'd like a game.”

  I lifted my head back up. “A game?”

  “Yes, I'd like to play you, Jude, one on one.”

  “Um...OK...but we have a game on now.”

  “Well tell them to leave,” he said bluntly.

  “Um, yes Mr O'Brien, I'll do that.”

  I could see the frown of confusion on Gus' face as I turned and walked back him down the steps, clapping my hands as I went to grab everyone's attention.

  King and the rest of them looked up at me as I spoke: “OK guys, game's over.”

  “Huh, what do ya mean?” shouted King.

  “Nah way dude, we've just got here.” It was those two fucking college jocks.

  I raised my voice and said it again. “I said, game's over, OK. Dealer, count up their money.”

  King stood up suddenly, his extended session brought prematurely to an end. “Jude, what the fuck is this. There are other poker clubs I can do to you know...”

  As I was preparing an answer a voice sounded behind me, booming loudly: “Is there a problem here?”

  I turned to see O'Brien walking casually down the stairs.

  The look on King's face changed suddenly, his anger running cold. “Mr O'Brien,” he said in slight shock. “No problem, no sir, no problem at all. We're all leaving.”

  A silence suddenly fell as the four players gathered their money and climbed the stairs to the exit, ducking their heads in submission as they passed O'Brien and his men. They all knew exactly who this guy was, and not just his public face either.

  O'Brien waited patiently for them all to filter o
ut into the alley before completing his trip to the bottom of the stairs. He wandered slowly around the room, inspecting it.

  “So this is your little poker club is it Mr Logan? Not a great deal to look at, is it?”

  “No sir, it's very no-frills down here. Would you like a drink?”

  “Whiskey, rocks.”

  I nodded to Gus who moved into the kitchen.

  Mr O'Brien carried on circling the room, opening the door to my office and peering inside. He didn't look at all impressed.

  He clicked his fingers and one of his men walked forward, pulling a large bundle of notes from his jacket breast pocket. He handed the money to O'Brien, who dropped it down in front of the dealer.

  “Twenty thousand dollars OK?” he asked casually.

  I stepped forward towards the table. “Yes Mr O'Brien, that's fine.”

  I sat down and the dealer issued us both the same amount chips as Gus came back out of the kitchen with the drinks. He didn't looked too pleased to be playing waiter. If he knew who this guy was, he'd do whatever he fucking told him.

  “So, Jude, how long have you been running this place?”

  “Not long sir, 6 months maybe.”

  “And are you doing well?”

  “I do OK.”

  We started playing. O'Brien was, as I'd have expected, an aggressive player. He'd bet straight out with thousands of dollars frequently. To be fair, twenty thousands bucks was probably just pocket change to him. I knew he was here for a different reason. It wasn't to make money.

  He engaged in casual small talk, talking about the weather and my other work at the bar. Clearly he knew more about me than I thought. I wondered what else he knew? I wondered why the hell he was here?

  It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that he began to reveal his real reason for being there.

  “I understand you know my daughter.” The comment came suddenly, out of nowhere, following a period of silence between us. It caught me off guard. I didn't know what he was talking about.

  “Your daughter, Mr O'Brien? Not to my knowledge, no.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “I told you earlier not to lie to me. Don't start now.”