Sin Bin

by Maureen Smith

  There was a long, heavy pause. “You have a brother and sister. They’d love to meet you.”

  Something squeezed painfully inside Logan’s chest. He inhaled a deep breath through his mouth and held it, his grip tightening on the table.

  Lucien said quietly, “In case you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  “—I’ll leave my card with my contact information.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  He listened to his father’s footsteps walking away, crossing the wood floor and opening the front door. He felt him pause and look back, but Logan didn’t turn around.

  Finally his father walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

  In one sudden violent motion, Logan flung out his arm and swept everything off the table. Glass shattered on the floor.

  With a hoarse roar of fury, he upended the table with a loud crash.

  Fury unsated, he leaped over the table and picked up a chair, hurling it against the wall with such force that it punched a hole in the plaster.

  He was consumed with rage. The kind of blind rage that made him want to draw blood and break bones. As his pent-up demons surged inside him and took possession, he tore through the room like a cyclone. He felt completely out of control, a slave to his primal fury and pain.

  When the raging storm was finally over, he looked at the destruction around him, his breathing loud and harsh in the sudden silence.

  His knees gave way and he crumpled to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He broke down, his anguished sobs deepening into gut-wrenching howls.

  At the core of him, he knew he wasn’t only mourning the death of his mother.

  He was mourning the death of hope.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MEADOW

  * * *

  Meadow was distracted during new employee orientation. Distracted and worried.

  It had been several hours since she’d heard from Logan. He’d texted her after practice, then went radio silent. She’d tried to reach him during her breaks, but he wasn’t answering his phone or responding to her texts.

  She told herself he was probably busy running errands, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

  Once orientation was over, she didn’t stick around to socialize with her fellow new employees. She’d spent the day getting to know them through team-building exercises. So when the clock hit three, she said her goodbyes and hurried to her car, where she pulled up Google Maps to help her navigate her way back to Logan’s penthouse.

  To her dismay, the app hadn’t stored his address, and she’d totally forgotten to save it to her phone. She didn’t remember how to get to his place. She was really bad at directions, so she knew she’d get lost if she tried to find her way back on her own.

  Trying not to freak out, she called Nadia to see if Logan might be with Reid or Viggo.

  “No, they’re at the barber,” Nadia told her. “They go on Tuesdays. Hunter and Logan go on Thursdays.” She laughed. “Hockey players are creatures of habit.”

  Meadow forced a chuckle from her dry throat.

  Nadia must have sensed her distress. “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Meadow admitted. “I can’t reach Logan, and I’m starting to get worried.”

  “He might be with Hunter. Let me get his number from Reid and text it to you.”

  “Thanks, Nadia.”

  “No problem. I’m heading out to a college fair, but can you text me when you get in touch with Logan?”

  “I will.” Meadow thanked her again and hung up. As soon as she received Hunter’s number, she called him.

  His deep voice answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Hunter. This is Meadow.”

  “Hey, Meadow,” he said warmly. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry to bother you—”

  “You’re not bothering me. What’s up?”

  “Um, is Logan with you, by any chance?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him since practice this morning.” A note of concern crept into Hunter’s voice. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been calling him, but he’s not answering the phone. I was hoping you might know where he is. I’m staying with him, but…” Feeling like a complete ditz, she explained the issue with Google Maps. “I’m such an idiot for not saving his address.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hunter reassured her. “I was just on my way home. Where are you?”

  “A place called Venue 221.”

  “I know where that is. I’ll swing by so you can follow me to Logan’s.”

  “Okay,” she said gratefully. “Thank you so much, Hunter.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right there.”

  He arrived within minutes in a gleaming silver Mercedes-Maybach S560. He pulled into the empty spot beside her and buzzed down his window. “Hey, Meadow.”

  “Hey, Hunter,” she said almost shyly. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “It’s all good.” He slid off his sunglasses, those piercing green eyes searching her face. “You okay?”

  “I’ll feel better when I see Logan. I don’t know why he’s not picking up.”

  Hunter looked grim. “I tried him a few times, too.”

  Meadow’s apprehension grew. “He was in such a good mood this morning. He was playful and laughing and making dinner plans….” She trailed off with a hard swallow. “I think something must have happened.”

  Hunter frowned and shoved his sunglasses back on. “Let’s head over there.”

  She followed him to Logan’s place, every muscle in her body strung tight. She wouldn’t take an easy breath until she knew Logan was safe and sound.

  The gated underground parking garage was manned by two guards checking IDs and penthouse numbers. They weren’t the same guys who’d been on duty when she left that morning. They grinned deferentially at Hunter and exchanged some lighthearted banter. After he told them Meadow was with him, they waved her through with big smiles.

  Her stomach knotted when she saw all four of Logan’s vehicles in his carport. If he was home and not answering his phone, that couldn’t be a good sign.

  She and Hunter parked their cars and headed to the elevator, where he used a special keycard to access Logan’s floor.

  “Good thing you came with me,” she joked nervously. “This place has tighter security than the Pentagon.”

  Hunter smiled faintly. “I insisted on having my own key.”

  That piqued her curiosity. “Why?”

  He watched the numbers light up above the elevator doors. “Let’s just say this won’t be my first time paying Logan a house call.”

  Meadow stared up at him. “Does this happen often? Him going incommunicado?”

  Hunter seemed reluctant to answer the question. “It happens often enough.” He looked down at her, his expression softening. “You get used to it.”

  She swallowed tightly as her boss’s words echoed through her mind. Logan’s massively talented, but he can be volatile and unpredictable at times.

  She and Hunter rode the elevator to the top level and got off. Logan’s penthouse occupied the entire south side of the twentieth floor. He shared a small lobby with the other penthouse unit. She was tempted to knock on his neighbor’s door to ask if he’d seen Logan. But the guy—some corporate tycoon—traveled a lot on business and was seldom home.

  “Maybe I should go in first and check things out,” Hunter suggested.

  “No.” When Meadow’s voice came out sharper than intended, she gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. I’m just…on edge.”

  “I know,” he murmured. “Believe me, I understand.”

  There was a panel next to Logan’s front door. Hunter keyed in a code and opened the door, blocking her view with his big body as he looked inside and hissed out an expletive.

  “What is it?” Panicking, Meadow pushed her way past him and gaspe
d in shock.

  The living room looked like a hurricane—or an enraged madman—had blown through. Furniture and tables lay toppled, some of them smashed. Broken glass and lamps were strewn across the hardwood floors. Expensive artwork hung askew or rested against the walls where they’d fallen.

  The place was completely trashed.

  Hunter surveyed the wreckage and swore darkly under his breath.

  “Logan?” Meadow called out in a shaky voice. She was afraid of what they would find. “Logan?”

  There was no answer.

  With rising panic, she headed down the hall toward the master bedroom suite. A few more paintings had been knocked down and he’d punched a hole in the wall. But most of the damage seemed confined to the living room.

  She reached the bedroom door. “Logan?”

  A low groan caught her ears. She looked in the direction of the sound and gasped when she saw Logan passed out in one corner, his head slumped back against the wall. Empty beer bottles littered the floor around him, and he was gripping an empty bottle of whiskey.

  “Logan!” Heart in her throat, Meadow rushed across the suite and dropped to the floor beside him. The knuckles on his right hand were covered with dried blood, and he reeked of whiskey.

  “Logan.” She urgently shook his shoulder. “Logan, can you hear me?”

  His head lolled to the side with his ear resting on his shoulder. He was wearing a sleeveless white undershirt above the black sweatpants and Timbs he’d worn to practice.

  She leaned in closer, stroking his hair. “Logan?”

  Slowly those sooty lashes lifted to reveal bloodshot eyes that tried to focus on her face. “Jupiter?”

  “Yes.” Tears glazed her eyes. “It’s me, baby. I’m here. What happened?”

  Something dark flashed in his gaze. Something dark and haunted before he shut his eyes and drunkenly waved her off. “Go ’way.”

  Her heart twisted in her chest. She shot a helpless look at Hunter as he crouched down beside her and lightly slapped Logan’s cheek.

  “Wake up, man. Tell us what happened.”

  Logan’s eyes slitted open and lifted to Hunter’s face. His full lips twisted up into an obscene grin as he raised his arm in mock salute and slurred, “Hola, capitán.”

  Hunter frowned, grimly contemplating him. “You’d better have a damn good excuse for this fuckery, kid.”

  Logan weakly flipped him the bird before his head slumped back down on his shoulder and his eyes closed.

  Meadow caressed his cheek, feeling scared and helpless.

  “I’ll get him to the bed.” Hunter took charge, tucking his shoulder under Logan’s arm and hefting him to his feet.

  “Let me help,” Meadow offered.

  “I can carry—”

  “Please let me be useful.” Meadow went on the other side of Logan and wrapped her arm around his waist. Together she and Hunter began steering him across the suite, his arms slung around their shoulders.

  “Holy crap,” Meadow puffed. “Maybe I should have let you carry him. He weighs a freaking ton.”

  Logan mumbled nonsensically as his head drooped forward, his chin resting on his chest.

  Hunter muttered under his breath in French.

  They steered Logan to the massive bed, where Hunter picked him up and deposited him in the middle of the mattress. Meadow unlaced his huge Timbs and pulled them off. Then she tucked him in, pulling the covers up over his body. She leaned over him, tenderly kissing his forehead.

  When she stepped back to gaze down at him, he suddenly rolled over onto his stomach and mumbled into his pillow, “Gone. Just…gone…”

  She and Hunter exchanged bewildered glances.

  “Let’s let him sleep it off,” Hunter murmured.

  She nodded and took one last worried look at Logan, then followed Hunter out of the room. She left the door cracked open so she would hear Logan in case he woke up and needed help.

  Returning to the living room, she and Hunter went to work righting furniture and sweeping up broken glass, trying to repair the damage Logan had wrought. They talked quietly as they worked. Hunter told her everything he could about his friendship with Logan, and she shared stories from their time together at the group home.

  By the time they finished cleaning up, Meadow felt like they’d formed a special bond.

  A bond forged by their connection to an utterly broken man.

  * * *

  It took logan several hours to sleep off his drunkenness.

  After sharing takeout with Meadow, Hunter went home to finish a class assignment. Before leaving, he asked her to let him know when Logan woke up.

  After he left, she returned to the bedroom to check on Logan. He’d thrown off the covers and lay sprawled across the bed, eating it up with his sheer size. As she stood there watching him in the moonlight, she was struck by the contrast between his boyish sleeping face and the tattooed arms bulging out of his undershirt.

  Her heart ached for him, this troubled manchild of hers.

  Suddenly he groaned and rolled to his side.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hair.

  He opened his eyes and blinked up at her, his black pupils glittering in the moonlight. “Jupiter?” His voice was gravel.

  She smiled softly. “Hi.”

  He looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and frowned. “What time is it?”

  “Just after nine o’clock. You’ve been out for a while.” She turned on the bedside lamp, causing him to wince and groan. “Sorry.”

  He sat up gingerly, ropes of muscle moving beneath his undershirt.

  She stared at him in concern. “What happened, Logan?”

  He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  “I was so worried about you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what to think when I couldn’t reach you.”

  Without responding, he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.

  She eyed him sympathetically. She didn’t have much experience dealing with drunk people. She’d tended to her adoptive mother when she got sick, but hangovers were a different story.

  Logan pushed himself into a standing position, then swayed like a punch-drunk boxer.

  When she moved to help him, he waved her off and growled, “I got it.”

  She watched in helpless frustration as he stumbled to the bathroom, making it just in time to hurl into the toilet.

  Cringing in sympathy, she grabbed her phone and sent off a quick text to Hunter. Then she tossed her phone down and hurried into the black marble bathroom. The toilet was in an enclosed area with opaque glass doors. She couldn’t see Logan, but the stench of vomit hit her as soon as she stepped into the private space.

  He was bent over the bowl puking his guts out. She felt bile rising in her throat, but she forced it down as she rubbed his back and murmured soothingly.

  He finished heaving and flopped back against the glass wall with a groan.

  She flushed the toilet and knelt in front of him, searching his eyes for answers he seemed unwilling to give.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry you had to see me like that.”

  “Just now? Or when you were passed out drunk on the floor?” Her tone was wry. “Not one of your finest moments, I agree.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He smelled like booze, vomit and misery.

  With a sigh, she got up and made her way to the soaking tub. It was huge and framed by windows you could see out but not in. She turned on the faucet and filled the tub with steaming hot water, adding some of her scented bubble bath.

  When the tub was full, she shut off the water and turned to smile gently at Logan. “Let me give you a nice warm bath.”

  “I don’t need one,” he grumbled.

  “I beg to differ.” She went over and helped him to his feet, grunting as she struggled to support his weight. As he sagged back against the wall
, she stripped him naked while he stared down at her with bleak, unfocused eyes.

  After removing her own clothes, she helped him slowly to the tub. He stepped over the rim and lowered himself into the fragrant heated water. She climbed in behind him and squeezed some bubble bath onto a clean washcloth, then gently began washing his back.

  He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, muscled arms wrapped around his legs while she bathed him as tenderly as a newborn.

  He was silent, not saying a word. She didn’t push him for answers. She knew he would talk when he was ready.

  And she was right.

  “My mother’s dead.”

  Meadow froze, staring at the back of his head in shock. “What?”

  “She’s dead.”

  “How do you know?” Meadow whispered.

  “My father came to see me.”

  “Your father?”

  He nodded.

  No wonder he’d gone off the deep end and trashed his living room.

  She gently stroked his hair. “How did your mother die?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to ask.” There was such raw pain in his voice. “That day I saw her outside the diner…maybe that was her ghost appearing to me. To tell me goodbye.”

  His words twisted around Meadow’s heart. She leaned down and kissed his shoulder, then reached around him and began washing his chest with gentle, soothing strokes. “Why did your father show up here? What did he want?”

  “More than I was willing to give.” In a low voice, Logan recounted the details of his father’s visit. By the time he finished, Meadow’s throat was aching, clogged with tears of sympathy and sadness.

  “I’m so sorry, Logan. He shouldn’t have come here. He had no right to do that to you after all these years.”

  “He thought I deserved some answers. And he’s right. I do. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my mother and wonder what became of her. And now I know.” Logan’s voice was thick with grief. “I’ve always hated her for leaving me. But there was a part of me that always…”

  When he trailed off, Meadow finished for him: “Hoped you would see her again.”