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

by Shorter, L. A.

  I was thrust down into it, my arms and legs locked down. I didn't struggle, I didn't cry out or scream for help. No, I knew there was no point. I knew no one could hear me, no one could help me.

  The guards finished fixing me to the chair and then stepped back, out of the room, shutting the door, and leaving me in pitch darkness. I sat in the black, the steel cold against my wrists and ankles, and tried to control my breathing.

  Moments later I heard the sound of footsteps walking down the corridor towards me, and then the door creaked open again, spilling light back into the room. I saw a silhouette appear, but quickly merge back into the darkness as the door was shut once more.

  I was struggling to breath normally now as my pulse began soaring. Then, suddenly, a light flickered above me and lit up, a spotlight trained right on the chair. I squinted my eyes as the man ahead of me came into focus.

  Before I even recognized him, I knew who it was.

  Conor O'Brien stood before me, his face full of rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

  “Where is my daughter?” he growled, clenching his teeth like an animal.

  “I don't know sir,” I said, “she's gone.”

  He stepped forward, coming close to me, an energy pulsing out of him. “You've fucked everything up. Your father took my wife from me, and now you've taken my daughter.”

  “I haven't taken your daughter Mr O'Brien,” I said, trying to look him dead in the eye. “Whatever my father did, I'm sorry, but it's got nothing to do with me. I....care about your daughter sir, I'd never want to take her from you.”

  “You care about her?” he said, laughing sarcastically. “You don't know her....”

  “I know her better than you.” I spoke quickly, regretting the words immediately.

  His fist swung quickly at my face, cracking me against my already bruised cheek. I felt my brain rock inside my head, my vision blurring briefly before coming back into focus.

  His eyes were burning even more fiercely now as he crept close to me, so close I could smell his breath.

  “You...know...nothing. You're just a stupid kid. You feel infatuation, nothing more. You don't know what it's like to be a father, a husband, to have your own family.”

  His eyes were deep with memory, with regret. For a split second, I almost felt sorry for him, sorry for how his life had turned out. He was rich, powerful, feared – but at the end of the day, what did he really have. Nothing.

  I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to aggravate him any further. I had no idea what he might do in this state. He looked like a man who'd lost it all, and who had nothing more to lose.

  He whispered again, his voice a growl: “where is my daughter?”

  I had no reply. I just shook my head and looked him deep in the eye.

  He swung his fist at me again, punching me in the stomach this time, the air busting out of my lungs.

  “Where is my daughter?” he repeated slowly.

  “I don't know sir,” I gasped. “she left town, she didn't tell me where.”

  He began breathing more heavily, pacing around the room, before coming back and hitting me again.

  “WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?” he spoke again, his words getting more and more intense.

  “I don't know!” I spluttered.

  He walked behind me and I heard the clanging of metal. I arched my neck to see a table, tools and other instruments of pain lined up along it. I felt my heartbeat go wild in my chest as he appeared back round the side, a short knife in his hand.

  “You remember what I said Jude,” he said, “when I met you at your poker club? I told you'd I'd kill you if you went near her. Tell me where she is, or I'll kill you right now.”

  He held the knife out in front of me, the blade sharp and shining under the light. My eyes were locked in fear at the sight of it, at the thought of the cold metal sliding into my flesh.

  “Please Mr O'Brien,” I whispered, “don't do this. I swear to you, I don't know where she's gone.”

  He looked at me for a long time, watching me cower in the chair, my eyes growing wider with fear.

  “I believe you Mr Logan,” he said. “But that won't save you.”

  With that he moved forward again and swung at me. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the sting of the knife in my chest or neck. I waited for the searing pain and sensation of blood gushing from my body. This was it, my life was over before it had really begun.

  But the knife didn't strike. No. I felt a dull hit to the side of my head instead, the butt of the blade cracking against my skull.

  The impact sent my brain rocking in my head once more, my vision this time blurring and growing darker and darker until, suddenly, everything turned in on itself and my mind went blank.

  ….

  Amy

  I sat in a roadside cafe, a warm cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of me. I felt completely drained after the previous couple of days' events, an exhaustion slowly rising up through me as I sat in the comfortable booth.

  It was hard to determine exactly how I felt. Sad to be leaving Jude, sad to think of what might have been. I'd made a connection with him, the first close bond I'd made with anyone in years. But now....now that had been severed, the fates cutting our time short.

  But then, I'd see him again, I'd see him soon. Maybe he'd come visit me in Las Vegas, as he'd said? Maybe we could spend some time together, away from everything, just the two of us alone.

  Perhaps I was being foolish to believe any of that would happen. Perhaps it was just a silly girl's fancy, a daydream that would never materialize. But I didn't care right now. I had to hope. It was all I had.

  Mingled amid my sadness and hope, however, was a deep regret. A regret that I'd failed, that my intention of building a relationship with my father had broken down so quickly. I tried to think of where it had all gone wrong. We were getting along well. He was, for the first time, being a real father; supporting me, showing interest, spending time with me alone. We'd laughed and talked and I'd almost forgotten who he was and what he did. I'd almost forgotten the past.

  But he couldn't keep it down. His own life of paranoia and power and control had once again shown him to be who he really was. I regretted that things didn't turn out differently, but I didn't regret my decision to leave. No, it was the only thing I could have done.

  I turned to look out of the window at the mountains that shaped the landscape. It was the last I'd see of them for a while. I was heading to the arid climes of Nevada, to the City of Sin, a return to the life I knew. There was comfort in that thought: no one to hurt me, no one to try to control me or manipulate me or tell me what to do. I'd return to the poker table. That was the world I lived in.

  I picked up my coffee and took a sip of the quickly cooling liquid, just as my phone buzzed loudly on the table in front of me.

  My phone. I'd need to change my number, get a new one. My dad knew the number, he'd be able to trace me. My car too. That would have to go, just in case he knows about it. A fresh start, that's what I needed.

  With my thoughts running quickly I reached for the phone as I stood to leave. I stopped still, standing next to the booth.

  It was dad. The message was from dad.

  I thought about deleting it without looking at it. He'd just be telling me to come back. Maybe he'd beg, maybe he'd order; it really depended on what mood he was in. The way he'd been earlier, though, it was sure to be the latter.

  I hovered my finger over the button to open the message. Did I want to look at it? Did I want to hear him out? Did I even care any more? And why hadn't he called me? If he wanted to talk, surely he'd call, not send me a message?

  Too many fucking questions Amy, just open the damn thing.

  I pressed my finger down and the message loaded. No, it wasn't a text message...it was a picture message, an image.

  It took a moment to load up, but when it did I lost my legs and dropped straight back down into the booth.

  Jude, no...what has he done
...no.

  I could feel my hand shaking as I held the phone, the image burning into my eyes. I wanted to turn away but couldn't. This was all my fault. I should never have left. I should have made sure my father understood before I left. What had I done.

  Jude was sat in a chair, his wrists and ankles fixed by metal locks. His head was hanging down, blood dripping down the side of his ear. I couldn't tell whether he was dead. He looked lifeless, sat alone in the chair in the middle of a stone-walled room.

  I scrolled down the image to see that there were two words below it, yet another order coming from my father.

  Come back.

  That's all he said.

  Come back.

  Chapter 15

  Jude

  My eyes opened slowly in darkness, my mind taking a moment to clear.

  I could feel my feet and hands still bound to the chair, my head aching heavily. I had no idea how long I'd been out, whether it had been hours, days, or longer.

  I remembered the knife in O'Brien's hand, the threat to kill me falling from his lips. But no, he'd hit me with the end of the knife, knocked me out cold. That was the last thing I remembered.

  I heard footsteps again, the sound of several men marching down the corridor. My pulse grew as they neared, my body tensing in preparation for more questions, more torture. The door opened suddenly, the room lighting up quickly as I squinted to see dark bodies piling into the room.

  I retracted my neck, coiling up as best I could in defence of their punches, but they never came. Instead they began working at my locks, opening the metal clamps and setting my limbs free.

  They lifted me up as I stumbled on my legs, a man holding me under each armpit, and began dragging me back out into the corridor and up the stone steps into the main mansion.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice weak. “What are you doing?”

  They didn't answer, but just kept dragging me towards the door, hauling me across the main hall as I struggled under their strong arms. One moved forward and opened the front door, the sunlight bright outside and piercing my eyes. I saw a car waiting at the bottom of the steps, the back door open, ready to take me somewhere. They threw me in and the car lurched off down the long driveway and through the gate.

  I looked forward to see the front seat occupied by a driver and another guard. I knocked on the divider but they didn't respond, keeping their eyes forward like robots.

  We drove for a few minutes, up the hill and further out of town. We climbed, heading towards the cliffs that overlooked the Western corner of the city, wide roads becoming dirt tracks.

  As we neared the top the car pulled to a halt off the road, driving to a lookout point that cast its gaze down onto the city and beyond.

  The front doors opened and the driver and passenger stepped out, once more opening my door and dragging me from the vehicle. I tried to fight them but they were large and strong, overpowering my weary body as they pulled me closer to the edge.

  I felt a fear begin to build inside me and I shouted out as they hauled me towards the cliff edge. I could see a couple of hikers coming our way in the distance, running down the hill to help me.

  The men didn't stop, pulling me closer and closer to the precipice. Then, suddenly, they turned me around and threw me to the dirt, stepping back slightly and standing over me.

  I looked up to see Conor O'Brien walking up towards me from a second car.

  As he approached the two hikers came tumbling into view, shouting “hey, hey, stop.”

  O'Brien nodded to his guards who casually pulled handguns from the belts, their arms lifting to point them straight at the hikers as they got closer. They skidded to a stop and held up their hands, before turning and running in the opposite direction.

  Mr O'Brien watched them for a second as they scuttled off before turning his eyes back on me. I sat in a heap on the floor, my body aching and bruised, my mind battered by fear for my life.

  “Remember this place Mr Logan,” he said coldly. “If I ever find out that you know where my daughter is. If I ever find out that you've seen her again, I'll bring you back here....and I'll throw you off this cliff.”

  Then, without another word, without needing a reply, he turned and marched off, back to his car, leaving me, broken, in the dirt.

  ….

  Amy

  ONE HOUR EARLIER

  I'd never driven so fast as I shot down the freeway, heading back into Branton. I'd only just left earlier that morning, and now I was already going back.

  But I had no choice. I had to know if Jude was OK. I just had to know.

  I crashed my foot to the floor and the car kept growing in speed, zipping in and out between the other vehicles filling the road. I could see the city beginning to appear again in front of me, the high peaks of the mountains surrounding it, dotting the landscape all around.

  I turned off onto a side road, rounding the city as fast as I could. Every traffic light caused me to shout and curse, every car that got in my way got a loud beep of my horn. My mind was rushing in a hundred directions, the minutes flowing by quicker and quicker.

  I saw my father's house up ahead, the top of the mansion visible in the distance, hundreds of feet back from the road. I pulled up at the gate and slammed on the breaks.

  “OPEN IT!” I shouted, not even looking at the guard.

  The gate opened quickly ahead of me and I shot forward, revving the engine of my car loudly as I approached the house. I skidded to a halt and jumped straight out, running up to the door. I smashed my fists against it in anger, panting wildly.

  It opened suddenly and a guard rushed forward, grabbing my arms as they continued to swing at him. “WHERE'S MY FATHER! WHERE IS HE?” I roared as the guard continued to restrain me.

  Then I heard his voice, his fucking sinister, callous, voice, emanating from the gallery above.

  I stopped struggling and lifted my head to see him walking along the top, slowly and casually coming down the stairs.

  “WHERE IS HE?!” I shouted again. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!”

  “Oh, you must be talking about Mr Logan. He's just fine Amy. Perhaps a bit of a bump on the head but I'm sure the young man can handle it.”

  I took a deep breath and felt a surge of relief go through me.

  “He's not dead?” I asked, my voice quietening.

  “Dead? Amy, what sort of man do you think I am?”

  “A monster, that's what you are!” I exclaimed quickly.

  “Darling, please, don't. I've just taught young Jude Logan a lesson. I understand what it's like to be a young man, lusting over a beautiful girl. I can hardly blame him for that.”

  He sounded different, his voice manipulative and insincere. He was not my father, not any more.

  “Let me see him,” I said, “I want to see him.”

  “All in good time Amy.”

  He turned away and the guard dragged me after him.

  “Get off me,” I said, wriggling, “let me go.”

  The guard didn't react, his vice-like grip forcing me onwards, up the stairs, and after my father. He walked casually forward along the gallery at the top, moving all the way towards the bedroom I used to stay in as a child. He opened the door and walked in, the guard forcing me to follow.

  It was bizarre seeing the room again. It looked like nothing had been touched, like the place had been preserved ever since I'd left. Unhappy memories came flooding back, years spent hiding in the room while my father shouted downstairs: down the phone, at his workers, at my mother.

  “It's just the same, isn't it?” my dad said, turning around to look at me. “I had it locked when you left, but it's time to open it up again.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, seeing the look in his eye.

  “You're going to stay here with me now Amy. You're going to live with me as you used to, as my daughter.”

  I shook my head. “No, I'm not staying dad. You think I'd stay after everything you've done! You think
I'd stay here...in this house, in this room?!” I was incredulous, unbelieving.

  “It's not a choice, Amy. It's an order.”

  He nodded to his guard who turned away and walked out of the door, shutting it tight behind us.

  I looked at my father in shock. “You can't do this! You can't!”

  He ducked his head slightly. “I've tried to do it the nice way. I gave you that chance Amy, but you threw it in my face. I can't have you running away again, not like last time. I guess, at the end of the day, I just don't trust you darling.”

  I was shaking my head, almost laughing at how ridiculous it all was. “You can't do this,” I said again. “I'll just leave, you can't stop me.”

  He smiled. “I think I can honey. This is your room now, this is your home again.”

  I heard a sudden commotion downstairs, the sound of someone shouting and being dragged across the hall below.

  Jude. Is that Jude?!

  I rushed to the door but my dad stood in front of it, blocking my path.

  “JUDE!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  “It's no use,” my dad said quickly. “No one can hear you in here.”

  I looked up at him, my eyes wide, and tried to move forward, trying to reach for the door, but he wouldn't budge.

  “It's for your own good honey, you'll get used to it soon.”

  I turned and ran to the glass door leading to the balcony outside, just as I heard the front door open down below. I looked down frantically to see Jude being dragged down the steps and thrown into a car. I raised my fists and banged against the glass, but he didn't turn, he didn't hear.

  I reached for the handle to open it, but it wasn't there. There was no handle any more. I looked round the edges, running my fingers along them, but nothing. There was no way out, no way to open it.

  I lifted a chair and swung it hard, with all my strength, but it simply bounced off it, the glass unbreakable.

  I felt my father's hands come down on my shoulders, sliding down my arms and forcing the chair from my grip.