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

by Shorter, L. A.

  “Um, it's about Conor O'Brien.”

  Crash's eyes stayed narrow, his brow furrowed. “What about him?”

  “He worked a bit with dad, didn't he? Have you ever met him?”

  “I've met him once or twice. He worked with dad in the past, yeah. They were also rivals as well, but there was a mutual respect between them so they didn't step on each others' toes too much. Why do you ask anyway?”

  “Oh, I....know his daughter.”

  “His daughter? Amy O'Brien?”

  “You know her?!” I asked quickly.

  “Not personally, no. I met her once. As far as I remember, she left home a few years ago after her mother died. I didn't know she was back.” His eyes steeled on me again. “How do you know her?”

  “I met her down here actually. We....you know, had dinner.”

  “You don't wanna do that Jude. You don't wanna get involved with that family. I'd steer clear of her if I were you.”

  Yeah, that's just what her dad said!

  It was a moot point anyway – she'd already told me she didn't want to see me again, that she'd be leaving soon and probably wouldn't come back.

  So, this was illuminating. She'd ran away after her mom died, and hadn't been back since. I guess maybe she had a few issues with daddy that she needed to work through. I guess with a father like Conor O'Brien anyone would have issues.

  “Yeah, I wouldn't worry about it Crash, I won't be seeing her again.”

  “Good, we don't need anything complicating things in the family right now, not with everything else that's been going on recently.”

  I laughed lightly. He was probably talking about Cade and Zack, our twin brothers. They were a couple of years older than me and recently had been involved in this love triangle with a girl called Gemma. In the end Zack left town and, as far as we knew, Gemma had gone with him. I knew Crash didn't want anything else cluttering up our already screwed up lives. Hearing about my poker club and all this shit with O'Brien would be the icing on the entire fucked up cake.

  “Just remember who you're dealing with here Jude. This isn't just any protective father. This is Conor O'Brien, and I don't think he's got much love for this family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, it's just rumor, but some people thought O'Brien killed his wife....”

  “Jesus. But what's that got to do with us?” I asked quickly, cutting him off.

  “Let me finish,” Crash spoke blankly. “So, some people thought that he killed his wife, because....he suspected that she was having an affair with someone. Rumor was that O'Brien thought it might have been dad.

  “And was it?!” I asked quickly again.

  He glared at me. “Do you think our dad was that stupid? Do you think he'd cheat with the wife of a serious rival like Conor O'Brien? Of course he wouldn't do that, Jude. O'Brien would have killed him for sure.”

  “Yeah, but if O'Brien thought it might have been dad, why wouldn't that be enough for him to go through with it?”

  Crash started shaking his head and rolling his eyes slightly at my stupidity and inexperience. “Jude, a man like O'Brien would have to be sure of something before going through with any revenge hit or anything like that, especially with a guy like our father. Look, dad said he didn't do it, so he didn't do it, OK. Whatever O'Brien might have thought, he was clearly just being paranoid.”

  “OK, so why hate our family then. If they worked together and had this respect, why would he change all of that just because he suspected something?”

  Crash put his hands up. He was used to my slightly impetuous nature and clearly I was overrunning my mouth a bit. “It's just rumor,” he said, slightly exasperated. “Look, drop it Jude. It's not relevant anyway. Long story short, Conor O'Brien isn't someone to cross in any way, least of all by dating his daughter. So stay away.” He put extra emphasis on those last words, widening his eyes as though he was threatening me too.

  Great, so now both Conor O'Brien and Crash Logan were threatening me to steer clear of this girl!

  “I will! She's probably left town already anyway.”

  “Well if she hasn't, don't be you, all right Jude. I know what you're like.”

  Christ, how much was he going to labor this point.

  “All right Crash, I know, OK.”

  “Great. Now get back to the bar, I've got things I need to do.”

  With his slightly dismissive words I stood and stepped from the room, leaving him once again alone with whatever the hell it was he was doing.

  This shit was deeper than I thought it was. No wonder O'Brien wanted me nowhere near his daughter. I thought he was just being a typical dad, warning bad boys like me away from his daughter, but no, this was much worse.

  He thought my dad fucked his wife, and now he didn't want the guy's son fucking his daughter. Jesus this situation was screwed up bad.

  I guess, in a way, it was good that Amy had run out on me.

  Chapter 10

  Amy

  I sat in my hotel room, looking out of the window. Beyond there was a small patch of thick woodland, rising slowly up in the distance as the hills grew into mountains. I used to love the outdoors; the crisp smell of the clear morning air, the wildlife; the beautiful pristine lakes and rushing rivers.

  I thought back to school trips we'd take into the woods, staying in cabins and going boating and hiking every day. It was a tradition among the schools in Branton to go up into the mountains for week long trips during the summer, and I always loved every minute. I guess part of it was getting away from my suffocating life living in my dad's mansion, like I was a bird being set free from its cage.

  A smile hit my face as I peered over the wilderness, a wide open expanse on the edge of the city. For the first time since I'd returned it actually felt good to be back home. I'd seen beautiful sights all over the country: long beaches, incredible cities, wide, open plains and dusty deserts. But there was nothing that struck at my soul like the vision of mountains and the sound of rushing water. The purity of it all, the natural beauty; it was all so comforting.

  My motel wasn't the sort of place I usually stayed at either, and there was something comforting about that too. It was rustic and basic, a cabin set on the side of the road. It wasn't flash or set up high on the tenth floor with wide views over the Las Vegas strip. No, I could almost touch the trees from my window, smell the clear, pure, air as it came flowing down from the mountains.

  There was another reason I was smiling, though, and it wasn't just because of the natural beauty in front of me. No, I was smiling because, for the first time in years, I'd actually spent time with my dad and enjoyed it.

  After meeting him in the restaurant, I'd made a commitment to really try and work through my own issues. He was doing his part, saying and doing all of the right things to try to get me to stay. So it was really down to me now to try to see him as my father, who loved me, rather than this mobster who's life I resented, and who's actions had eventually led to my mother's death.

  We spent an entire day together, walking outside of the city through the woods and enjoying a show in town at night. They were the sorts of things we used to do when I was a little girl, before I truly began to understand what his life really was, what his work really entailed. We reminisced as we went, and he began to finally take an interest in my life, my travels, and even my successes at the poker table.

  As we spoke it truly began to settle in my mind that all he wanted for me was to be separated from the world he lived in. That's why he never wanted me playing poker, that's why he wanted me to go to college, probably somewhere far away. His absence in my life as I grew wasn't because he didn't love me, but because he was protecting me. All he ever wanted was me to be safe. I guess it just manifested itself in the wrong way when I was growing up.

  I began to see him in an entirely different light. For years I'd resented him for just being a mobster, for causing pain and suffering and taking advantage of people. I'd focused all of my
anger on his seedy side, but he was a lot more than that. He was a respected businessman, a man who gave millions to charity, a man who supported local groups and was a prominent figure in helping to shape the future of the city.

  Above all, though, he was a man who loved his daughter, a man who'd suffered for years at her absence. His wife had been killed, and all I ever did was blame him for it, and then run away. I'd been insular, self-righteous, and selfish. I had never considered his point of view, running off like a child.

  Now, though, I was starting to see how my behavior had affected him, how I wasn't a completely innocent party in all of this. I'd never agree with my father's criminal endeavors, but that didn't mean I couldn't still see him in his primary role – as my dad.

  So that's why I decided to stay, for a while at least. I made the decision to stick around, to meet regularly with him and go from there. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know whether I'd stay for a week, a month, or more.

  All I knew was that I had to try. I wanted to try.

  But, now that I'd made the decision, there was something else I wanted as well. Maybe, just maybe, there was another reason to stay.

  I stood from the stool by the window and walked out through the door. My hire car sat in a parking space just outside, its tires caked with mud from a recent trip out into the woods. I stepped in and gunned the engine, reversing out and pulling onto the wide road looking down the sloped hill into the city.

  It was late afternoon now, the sun beginning to fall down behind the peaks in the distance, turning the sky a beautiful shade of orange. The sight made me smile again, but it was the thought of someone else that caused my heart to start beating just that little bit faster.

  ….

  I pulled up outside the underground poker club and peered down the alley. The light was fading fast now, the night sky growing darker up above, as I strained my eyes to see into the darkness beyond.

  There was no one outside, the alley deserted and quiet. I opened the door of the car and stepped out, walking forward towards the large metal door half way down the gap between the buildings. I felt my pulse rise quickly as I went, not sure what I'd say.

  I doubted myself as I raised my hand to knock on the door, pausing briefly with my closed fist dangling awkwardly in front of me. Would he even want to see me after the way I'd acted?

  Without letting my thoughts deter me I flicked my wrist and my knuckles bounced lightly against the metal three times. The sound echoed down the alley, disturbing the quiet night.

  I waited, as I had the first time I'd come here, until I heard footsteps coming up towards me. My pulse quickened further as I started breathing more heavily. I calmed myself quickly as I heard the scraping of metal, the handle turning, and the door slowly creaking open.

  A face appeared in front of me as it had before, the same face towering above me.

  “It's you again,” the man said. “Amy, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You here to play again?”

  I shook my head. “I'd like to see the manager please.”

  His face stayed blank. “He's not here.”

  “Well where is he?” I asked quickly.

  He stared at me for a second. “Why do you want to know?”

  “That's none of your business.”

  “Well, actually it is my business miss. My boss' safety is my primary concern.”

  Damn, this guy was loyal.

  “Safety!” I said, almost laughing. “Do you really think a little girl like me is dangerous! Look, if you want me to spell it out for you, I will. We had a thing going on, OK. I just want to speak to him.”

  He still looked at me through suspicious eyes. “He runs a bar called Sparks, it's on Broadstreet in the center of town. He'll be there for a little while I'd imagine.”

  “Thanks for telling me. He's lucky to have a guard as loyal as you.”

  His face refused to give up a smile as he pulled the door shut again with a metallic thud. Jeez, that guy needs to lighten up.

  I turned back to my car and started off towards the center of town. I vaguely remembered he'd told me he ran a bar when I first met him. I'd passed it off as yet another lie, another part of his fake character, but clearly he'd let that truth slip.

  So, he was 21 and ran a major bar on Broadstreet, as well as an underground poker club. Jesus Christ this guy was driven. In a way, he reminded me of my father.

  The traffic grew thicker and more intense as I progressed into the center of town. Broadstreet, as I knew, was the central hub for entertainment in the city. In fact, I'd been there only a couple of days before with dad as we went to see a show.

  It was full of bright lights and was almost always busy, day and night. The theatres and finer restaurants were down one end, with the louder bars and clubs at the other, pumping out loud music all through the night. Sparks, though, was a name I didn't recognize. When I used to live here, it wasn't the sort of place I'd go to.

  I went straight for a parking lot a couple of streets down and parked my car. I sat there for a moment and pulled out my phone, before typing 'Sparks' straight into my browser. I loaded up the map to see that it was situated about halfway down the street.

  It only took me a few minutes to get there, despite the growing crowds of people rushing up and down the street as I got closer.

  The bar itself looked flash, with a short VIP queue on one side, and a longer queue on the other. I approached the bouncer at the front, who stood guarding a young woman holding a clipboard.

  The bouncer held his hand out in front of me, his mighty digits blocking my path.

  “Are you on the list?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I'm just here to see the manager.”

  “You're going to have to join the queue,” he said, as if he didn't even hear what I said.

  “Can I just go in to see the manager please?”

  “Sorry miss, please join the queue to your right if you're not on the list.”

  He looked away from me dismissively as I turned to the right and saw that the regular queue was unmoving and growing by the second.

  “Look,” I said, “do you have any idea who I am?” I turned on my serious tone, making my voice sound as indignant as possible.

  He shook his head casually, hardly registering that I was still there.

  “You know of Conor O'Brien right?” I asked, still staring up at his wide face above me.

  He eyes fell onto mine. “Yes.” He sounded slightly more interested now.

  “Well I'm his daughter. I don't think he'd like it if he knew you were talking to me like this.”

  “Bullshit,” he said. “Yeah, I've heard all this before. You'd be amazed at how many President's daughters and actor's daughters and foreign royalty we get down here. You students are all the same, pulling these pranks. Now miss, please join the....”

  I cut him short as I pulled a picture from my purse, one of me and my father on my phone, taken only a couple of days before.

  “Do you want to see my I.D. as well? I've got my driver's license with me here, look.”

  I pulled that out as well, clearly showing my name as Amy O'Brien.

  I watched on as he took it in, feeling like a total and utter hypocrite. I mean, I was using my father's feared reputation to get quick entry into a bar. It was a pretty low point for me.

  “Oh, miss O'Brien,” he said, “I apologize. Please, go straight through.”

  He turned and gestured to the bouncer behind to move the rope to let me through, and I walked straight in, still feeling a little dirty.

  Inside the place was plush, with a long bar lined up against the right hand wall, It was black, but topped with what seemed to be white marble. Next to it was a walkway leading up towards a VIP area, a step up and closed off with heavy deep red curtains. To the left was a fair amount of seating, with black tables and chairs littered around the room and comfortable booths set up against the wall.

  The place was filled
with smart looking people wearing jackets and dresses, all sitting in comfortable chairs, sipping champagne and wine and expensive cocktails.

  I moved forward towards the bar and found a gap between a couple of men waiting for their drinks. A barman came towards me, dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat.

  “Yes miss, what would you like?” he asked clearly over the music.

  “Nothing, I'm just here to see the manager. Can you tell me where he is please?”

  “Sorry, he's not available right now.”

  “But is he here?”

  “He doesn't want to be disturbed miss.”

  What the fuck was the deal with the people here! Did they get paid extra for being dismissive and rude or something?!

  Before I had a chance to say anything more he'd turned away and was serving someone else.

  Screw this.

  I looked around the bar again, scanning for an exit. At the end of the bar I saw a door and walked towards it. I hovered for a second, my eyes lingering on the barman who was furiously shaking a cocktail mixer, before stepping straight through into a quiet corridor.

  The door shut behind me and the noise of the bar was quickly cut off, becoming only a dull thud in the background. I looked down the corridor to see a door at the end, so moved towards it.

  I grabbed the handle and slowly turned it, opening it slowly to hear the sound of light music inside. Then, causing me to jump, was a familiar voice.

  “Craig, I told you I wanted some peace for five fucking minutes.”

  When the door fell open, however, and he saw that it was me, his voice fell quickly and his mouth with it.

  “Amy...what the hell are you doing here?!”

  I hadn't had a chance to ask myself the same question.

  I walked in and shut the door behind me as he stood up behind his desk.

  “I wanted to talk to you Jude,” I said. “I wanted to see you.”

  I smiled and expected him to do the same, to be happy to see me, but he didn't. His face stayed in this stage of shock and confusion.

  “So you really do own a bar,” I said. “You weren't lying about that then?” I said it lightly, but he didn't lighten up.