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

by Shorter, L. A.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked again. “I thought you were leaving town?”

  I walked forward towards him.

  “I decided to stay for a bit. I felt bad for the way I acted before.”

  “Stay?” he said quickly. “For how long?”

  A smile crept onto my face. “I don't know, weeks, maybe longer.”

  I kept moving forward, walking round his desk and coming closer to him.

  “I'd like to spend some time with you while I'm around Jude. I dunno, maybe we could get to know each other properly?” I had a hopeful tone to my voice, but his reaction wasn't what I'd have wanted.

  I was close to him now, close enough to smell his aftershave, close enough to see the shape of his pecs under his shirt. I wanted to reach out and grab him, drag him in and kiss him, but something held me back. It was the look on his face.

  “You shouldn't be here,” he said, his voice colder than I'd heard it before. It was like the fire in him had gone out, like his exuberant spirit had been extinguished.

  He stepped back slightly from me, widening the gap between us. He looked conflicted, like he was holding back. I stepped forward again but he gravitated away, like an opposing magnet being pushed back by another.

  “I think you should go Amy,” he said, not looking me in the eye. “What happened with us was a mistake.”

  His words cut at me. I barely knew him but they hurt.

  “Look, I'm sorry for how I was before. It's just my reaction, to not let anyone in. I just thought that maybe we could go on a date, you know. I do....like you Jude.” I felt vulnerable as I spoke, opening myself up more than I had in a long time.

  His eyes stayed away from me, but flicked back briefly. I noticed this divide inside him, like he was battling something.

  I couldn't help it when a tear began to slowly form in the corner of my eye, and trickle down my cheek. His eyes found mine again, drawn back in. They softened at the sight and he stepped forward again, raising his hand to brush the tear away.

  The touch of his hand to my cheek was soft and tender, his eyes now growing the same. His voice was a whisper when he next spoke.

  “I'm happy you're staying Amy, but nothing can happen with us now, no matter what I want.”

  I couldn't decipher his words. They were cryptic.

  “Please,” he continued, his voice so quiet, “just go.”

  Another tear rolled from my eye as he turned away and sat down, turning away from me again.

  I walked to the door, turning back before I left. He held his eyes down again, his face pained, staring at his desk and refusing to look up.

  “Bye Jude,” I said, opening the door and walking out into the corridor.

  A feeling to run hit me again. Suddenly, despite what was happening with my dad, the city of Branton felt cold and empty to me once more.

  ….

  Jude

  I looked up as I heard the door shut.

  I felt like shit, absolute fucking shit.

  When she'd walked in I'd had to fight the urge to grab her right there. I was like a crack addict being offered crack, and having to turn it down.

  I wanted her lips on mine. I wanted to rush my fingers through her hair and my hands up her body. I wanted to throw everything to the floor and lie her down on my desk. I wanted to strip her bare and take her right there in my office.

  But I also wanted to just talk to her. I wanted to go to dinner and tell her about the real me, tell her who I really was. I knew who she was now, but she didn't know me. Or maybe she did? Maybe that's how she found me here?

  But I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't see her, talk to her, even be near her. Not with her dad breathing down my neck. Not with Crash warning me off. There was too much at stake, too much for me to lose.

  I looked at the door now as it lightly closed shut. I felt an urge to stand up and run after her, tell her the truth, tell her why I was being like this. But I didn't. I just sat there and stared at the blank door, imagining her walking away, tears rolling down her face.

  I'd been in this situation before, but never like this. I'd had women walking away from me in tears after being told I couldn't see them. I'd seen them cry and never cared. In a weird, perverse, kind of way, it usually made me feel good, like I was a player, God's gift to women, someone the girls would fall for after one date.

  But this time, I didn't feel like that. This time, I actually cared for the girl. She was the one girl I wanted and the one girl I wasn't allowed to have. She was like the forbidden fruit, tempting me, drawing me closer. But I knew exactly what would happen if I ate that fruit. It was a path I wasn't willing to take.

  I sent a shot of vodka down my throat, the liquid burning as it slid down into my body. I sent another, the sensation less intense this time, and another soon after.

  I needed to get out of this office, I needed a change of scenery.

  I stood up, the alcohol relaxing me, and walked out through the bar. It wasn't a busy night and didn't need my attention.

  “I'm going out,” I said to Craig, my head bartender. “Call me if you've got a problem.”

  I kept moving through, the eyes of girls on me as I went. I didn't care for them, not tonight.

  The air was refreshing as I stepped out onto the street.

  “Everything OK boss?” asked one of my bouncers.

  I nodded and kept going, walking off down a side street off Broadstreet where my car was parked.

  I got inside and gunned the engine, setting my sights towards the other side of town. The traffic was lighter as I drove, and grew even thinner as I moved away from the center.

  As the cars thinned I began to notice one following. It was a black saloon with blacked out windows, smoothly gliding along in my wake.

  I kept my eyes on it as I continued onwards, eventually lurching up the street towards my poker club and coming to a halt outside. The car kept coming, skidding in behind me.

  I stepped quickly from the car and started up the alley towards the club. I could hear doors opening and closing quickly behind me as I went, and turned to see two men in black suits running towards me.

  I instinctively raised my arms up for a fight as one of them came straight at me, his fist crashing into my defending arms. Then the other one was on me as I stepped back towards the door, reaching out to knock on it as hard as I could.

  I managed a single knock before one of the men grabbed my arm and pulled it away, the other sending his fist clattering into my jaw. I crumpled to the deck as they both continued to kick and punch me on the ground, the breath in my lungs lost.

  I was gasping for air as their fists and feet abated, my body curled up in a defensive position.

  “Mr O'Brien told you not to see his daughter again,” one of the men spoke, his voice deep and heavy. “This is a message to stay the fuck away.”

  He sent a final kick to my midsection and I heard the door open behind me.

  “Boss,” came Zig's voice as the men looked up at the man mountain ahead of them. They turned quickly and ran back down the alley towards their car, Zig jumping over my body and charging like a raging bull after them.

  All I could see was his fist flying through the driver's window as the car lurched off. Zig followed, bellowing loudly, but soon gave up the chase. He quickly turned and lumbered back towards me, just as the world began fading into darkness.

  ….

  My eyes slowly opened as I lay slumped on the floor down in the poker club. My vision cleared to reveal Zig holding a washcloth full of ice to my head.

  “Jude,” he said, “are you OK?”

  I leaned up painfully and sat against the wall, taking the cloth off him.

  “Yeah I'm fine,” I groaned, “I've had worse beatings than that.”

  The door to the kitchen opened and King walked in with a glass of whiskey.

  “Get that down you son,” he said, handing me the full glass.

  I took a gulp and struggled to my feet, Zig sup
porting me.

  “I sent the players home,” said Zig, glancing over at the table, now sitting empty. “King's checked you over and there's no broken bones,” he continued, sitting me down in one of the poker seats.

  I looked up at King, who sat down in front of me with his own glass of whiskey in hand. “I used to be a doctor Jude, so you're in good hands.”

  My head was still swimming slightly, a dull ache throbbing inside it.

  “So who were those guys?” asked King. “Do they not know who the hell you are?”

  I huffed slightly. “They know who I am, that's the point.”

  “So who were they?”

  “O'Brien's men,” I said blankly, wincing as I touched the iced cloth to my bruised cheek.

  King's face changed quickly. “Jesus, Jude, what sort of trouble have you got yourself into?!”

  I shook my head. “I fucked his daughter. He warned me off. Nothing major.”

  “Jude, if Conor O'Brien tells you to do something, or not to do something in this case, you fucking do what he says! What were you thinking!”

  “I didn't do anything. She came down to the bar tonight and I told her I couldn't see her. I guess he must have had men watching her or something. I mean, how the fuck can I control that!”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  I nodded, taking another gulp of whiskey.

  “Did you get a good hit in?” I said, looking up at Zig. “Jesus, your arm!”

  There was blood streaming from it, deep cuts running up his left forearm. “Zig, you need stitches on that.”

  “I needed to make sure you were OK first.”

  The guy was as loyal as a labrador. “Zig, you deserve a fucking pay rise. Now seriously, you've gotta get to the hospital ASAP. King, do you mind?”

  King stood up quickly and slammed his empty glass to the table. “Of course, Jude, no problem. Are you sure you'll be OK? They won't come back, will they?”

  I shook my head. “Just get him to the hospital will you, I'll be fine.”

  I knew they wouldn't come back. I knew that this was O'Brien's way of making sure I knew he was serious.

  It also confirmed something else for me. He really, truly, hated this fucking family.

  Chapter 11

  Amy

  “Darling, what's the matter with you? You seem, I don't know, distant.”

  I sat with my father at a restaurant by the river. I could feel the presence of his guards lingering in the distance, but he'd learned to make sure they were out of sight. At the moment, it wasn't them on my mind.

  “It's nothing dad,” I said. “Nothing to worry you, anyway.”

  “Honey, anything that worries you, worries me, OK. You can talk to me. I know it's not like talking to your mother, but I'll do the best I can.”

  “Seriously, it's nothing.”

  “Amy, come on, no secrets between us, isn't that what we agreed?”

  We had. If we were to rebuild our relationship we'd need to be honest with how we felt and I needed to tell him when I had any problems and issues with what he did. It was all about getting things out in the open. I don't know if he'd been seeing some sort of councillor or something, but he certainly had a few ideas that I doubt he'd have come up with on his own.

  “Yeah, I know dad, but this isn't about you and me or your work or anything like that.”

  He leaned back, his face showing that perhaps he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

  “OK,” he said, “if it's too personal, say no more.”

  He probably thought it was women trouble of some kind that he really didn't want to know about. I guess, in a way, it was, and wouldn't be of any interest to him.

  I hadn't realized that it was so obvious on my face, though. I'd been thinking about Jude for days now, unable to shift him from my mind. I wanted to, and I thought he deserved to the way he'd treated me, but still, I just couldn't budge that image of him from my head.

  I don't know what had changed either. When I'd walked out on him that morning in the hotel, I liked him, but didn't care whether I thought I'd see him again or not. I felt like that because I believed, deep down, that I wouldn't be staying. I was in control of my feelings, just like I was in control at the poker table.

  When I saw him the other day, however, I felt as though I'd just gone 'all in' with a hand, expecting to win, only to bust out and lose all my money. Only, this was 100 times worse.

  I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest when I walked away. I'd let him in, and he'd cut me down. It was a mistake that I hadn't made in years, and one I didn't intend on making again.

  If he didn't want to see me, screw him. I didn't need a boyfriend anyway. My life was on the road, seeing new places, meeting new people. It was exciting, varied, and full of new experiences. Why the hell would I want my feelings ruining that? Why would I want to interfere with that in any way?

  Sure, I was back here for now, but I wasn't going to stay, not forever. I needed to work, and for that, I needed to travel. To add insult to serious fucking emotional injury, the only major casino in town was clearly a place he went to all the time. It was essentially my office, my place of work, where I made my money. But if ever I walked in there, he might be there, sat at the high rollers table, probably flirting with some blonde bimbo barmaid.

  Well, screw him, he's not going to keep me from earning. I'll steer clear of his damn poker club, but I'm not missing out on the casino as well. No, that's my office, not his.

  “It really is nothing dad, nothing important,” I said, turning my attention back to the conversation.

  “Well if you're sure honey. If I've done anything, you will let me know, won't you?”

  “Of course. Open mouth, open mind,” I said. It was a mantra he'd taught me. It basically meant, if you've got something to say, say it, but have an open mind about things at the same time. In other words, be honest, but not judgemental.

  He smiled and sunk the remainder of his whiskey, before checking his watch. “I hate to do this honey, but I've got an important meeting coming up. We'll catch up next week?”

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  He stood up and leaned down to me, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “OK darling, I'll speak to you later. Here, that should cover lunch.” He dropped a few notes onto the table and darted off. It was way more than we'd had. It reminded me of Jude when he took me for dinner the night I met him. He'd done the exact same thing.

  And there he was, in my head once again.

  ….

  Jude

  It was that time of the week again – my weekly business catch up with Crash – and I'd been dreading it.

  Any time any of us turned up with a bump or a bruise Crash wouldn't let up until you told him exactly what had happened and who'd done it. He was so perceptive he'd see through you if you lied, so in general you'd almost always spill the truth eventually.

  I remember when I was only 16 and I was attacked by these seniors in high school. To be fair, I kinda deserved it for screwing this guy's girlfriend at a party, so didn't really make a big deal out of it when him and his mates gave me a kicking after school.

  Crash did, however. When he saw me all battered up he lost it and put the guy in hospital. I guess the guy didn't know who my family was, or else he wouldn't have done it.

  And now was the same situation, only the stakes were about a million times higher. It had been a few days since those guys caught me outside my club, and the bruising had barely had any time to go down. I knew if I said I was ill or something he'd just come over to my apartment or make a surprise visit at the bar. So, I guess, I just had to lie.

  I knocked on the door to the office and stepped in, all prepped to spout my fable. When his face lifted from the desk to meet mine his eyes went wide and his jaw clenched immediately. Crash had grown up recently, what with his new responsibility with running the family, so wasn't quite such a lunatic as he was before. Yet that version of him was still in there somewhere. I
t would just take the right nudge to set him off.

  He stood immediately when he saw me and rushed round the front of the desk. I tried to keep my head up, as if it was nothing, but I couldn't help but bow slightly as he marched forward, a mixed look of concern and rage in his eyes.

  “Who did this to you?” he asked quickly, putting his hand to my chin and inspecting my face. He peered down from his strong 6 foot 3 inch frame, waiting for my answer.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” I said, making sure to maintain eye contact with him. If I turned away, he'd know I was lying.

  “Over what?” he asked, still inspecting my battered face.

  “It was nothing Crash. Some guy thought I was hitting on his girlfriend, you know how it is.”

  “OK, and then what happened?”

  “Well, I had a few drinks and when I went home, he pounced me with a friend, gave me a few good hits, and that was it. I barely remember it to be honest. No real harm done.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Huh?”

  “The bar? Which bar were you at, and when?”

  I expected the Spanish Inquisition, so had my answers ready to roll off my tongue.

  “Erm, Rizzo's, Thursday night.”

  “Right, and what did these guys look like? Did they have any clue who you were?”

  I laughed. “I doubt it, otherwise they probably wouldn't have done anything.”

  “And their look?”

  “I dunno, normal guys. I barely remember. Look, it's nothing, I've had worse. And, frankly, I was probably being a douche and deserved it.”

  “Hmmmm, right.”

  He stepped back from me and walked back around his desk to sit down, seemingly satisfied with my story. As always, the whiskey came sliding across the table before he set into asking questions about the bar and how I was getting on.

  Frankly, I had nothing to tell him, I rarely did. These 'meetings' were becoming a formality, just something to tick off his list. I don't know why he wasted his time.

  “You know Crash, I could probably have just told you how things are going over the phone. Don't you already have enough on your plate to be coming down here every Sunday?”