by Lilly Atlas
And damn him for looking so sexy. Now along with slapping him, she wanted to grab him and demand he bury his face between her legs.
It had been way too long since he made her come and her traitorous body didn’t seem to care that he’d lied and betrayed her.
“Logan,” she said as if he didn’t know his own name. Heavy on the sarcasm, she added, “Sorry, I guess I need to get used to calling you Rocket.”
He pushed off the wall and stalked toward her, his focus never wavering. There was a startling contrast between the man approaching her and the man she’d met as Logan. Rocket was scary as hell. The stare she felt like a caress when she’d first met him in the bar now seemed like an irritable glower. The tense way he held his body seemed as though he was one harsh word away from throwing down with whoever dared cross his path.
Chloe stood in the center of the room, limp and exhausted arms dangling at her sides.
“Uh, we’re gonna jet,” Izzy said, coming up behind Jig. “You really rocked it today, girl. Same time tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah,” Chloe said unable to break away from Rocket’s stare.
“Make it an hour later,” Rocket said.
“How come?” Izzy asked in the most fake innocent voice Chloe had ever heard.
Jig snorted. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Jig propel Izzy out the door with an arm around her shoulders. “When we get home, I’ll show you exactly what he has planned for that extra hour,” Jig murmured to her as he passed by.
Izzy giggled. Actually giggled like a schoolgirl instead of a badass who could take a man out with the tail of that wicked braid she wore like a uniform. “Don’t take any shit from him, Chloe,” she called out as she slipped out of the room.
The two disappeared, leaving Chloe alone with Logan—er, Rocket—who she hadn’t laid eyes on in days.
When he reached her, he lifted one of the gloved hands and moved as if to help her remove it. “To the club, I’m Rocket. You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. Despite her anger and the oppressive feeling of betrayal, her traitorous body still reacted to him as it always did. With lust and need. But they had shit to sort out and she couldn’t afford the distraction of his hands on her.
He ran a finger down her arm leaving a trail of goosebumps. “When we’re in bed, I’m Logan.” His voice was smooth, warm liquid drizzling down her spine. For a split-second, her brain short-circuited before his words registered.
When they were in bed?
When they were in bed together?
The nerve of this asshole.
He’d lied to her. Tricked her. Deceived her. The one man she’d been beginning to trust, beginning to let her guard down around, took that gift of her trust and tossed it in the trash. He was out of his freakin’ mind if he thought she’d be crawling into bed with him anytime soon.
Or ever.
Suddenly, her energy returned in the form of rage. It breathed new life into her tired limbs, chasing away the soreness, and giving her the need to dominate. The need for that high she’d been riding moments ago.
“Why are you here?” she asked, rising onto her toes and getting right in his face. “I said I didn’t want to see you.”
He remained calm though his eyes widened at her near snarl. “We have shit to work out.”
Chloe laughed. “Shit to work out? Oh, you mean how you lied to me? Let me believe you were someone else. A harmless business owner.”
His Adam’s Apple rose and fell as he swallowed. “That’s part of it.”
“Or maybe you wanna talk about how I fucked you, what? Six? Seven times? Giving you more trust each time, and yet you still lied your ass off about who you were!” She was breathing heavy now, shouting the words at him. “You’re no better than Lefty!” she yelled, knowing the words were both cruel and untrue as they left her mouth, but she was too far gone to take them back.
Logan however wasn’t as inclined to let it roll off his back. He surged forward, towering over her, using his size to show her who really had the upper hand here. “You have no fucking idea the shit I’m capable of. The shit I’ve done.” His nostrils flared and she was surprised he didn’t breathe fire in that moment. “You’d have nightmares for a month if you knew. But don’t you ever compare me to that motherfucking piece of shit.”
She should have been terrified, would have been were it anyone else but him, but she wasn’t. Because she trusted him. Despite it all she trusted him, and she believed everything he’d said to her a few days ago. She believed Lefty was an enemy of his club. Believed the Handlers didn’t have anything to do with her kidnapping and rape. And she knew deep in her heart, he suffered over what she experienced. She may be a damn fool, but she wasn’t afraid of the growling man who loomed over her.
And that infuriated her even more. Because she should hate him for lying to her. Those deceptions should have killed her faith in him. Her attraction to him.
But they didn’t. He cared and wanted to protect her. Which made the deceit cut that much deeper.
And that made her angry.
Irrationally, pull-out-her-hair, howl-at-the-moon, blood-rushing-in-her-ears angry. With her two gloved hands, she shoved him out of her personal space. A small surge of power ran through her.
Logan smirked, his blue eyes sparkling. “You wanna hit me?”
Shoulders bunched, fists itching to do exactly as he asked, she took a step back. “Get out.”
He shook his head. “Do your worst.”
“Logan, get out.”
He shook his head again.
“Log—”
He stepped forward. “No.” There was a taunt to the calm word. An unspoken come and get me.
“Get out!” she cried as she charged forward, fists raised. Exactly as she’d done yesterday when she let loose on Jigsaw’s punch mitts, she lost her shit on Logan.
On Rocket.
Over and over her gloved fists connected with him as he stood there absorbing the blows without a word or without fighting back.
Bam! Shot to the shoulder.
Bam! Jab to the gut.
Bam! A hook to his upper arm.
Again and again, she wailed on the man who’d given her the first hint of pleasure she’d experienced since being attacked, only to take it away with his untruths.
“You lied!” she screamed each time her fist bounced off his hard body. “You lied, you lied, you lied.”
After what felt like hours, her screams turned to sobs. Without a thought for the techniques she just learned, Chloe drove her exhausted right arm forward, missing Logan by a mile. The momentum of her traveling arm unbalanced her and were it not for Logan’s quick reflexes, she’d have crashed to the ground.
Instead, she found herself cradled against his chest and on the move.
“Put me down,” she ordered. Damn her voice for sounding so weak in that moment. But she couldn’t help it. She was tired. Completely drained from the intense physical activity.
And from days of holding onto her anger.
Months really. Ever since she’d been kidnapped, she’d had a knot of anger and hatred swirling just beneath her sternum.
“I can’t do that,” Logan said, moving freely as though she hadn’t just punched him a hundred times.
“Where are we going?”
“My room,” he said as they exited the makeshift gym and entered the room she’d occupied the last few days.
He set her down on the edge of the bed then sank to his knees at her feet. “W-what are you doing?” she asked as he lifted a gloved hand.
He didn’t answer, just worked the glove off her hand, tossed it on the ground, then began unwinding the wrap.
Chloe had no idea what to do in that moment. The anger of moments ago had faded. Sailing out through a barrage of fists and accusations as she pummeled Logan. All that remained was a hollow emptiness in her chest.
Oh, and questions. So many questions. But in that mom
ent, she wasn’t sure she had the reserves to start firing inquiries at Logan. So she watched the gentle, almost tender way he held her hand as he unwound the rest of the long wrap.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he lifted her hand, stroking his thumb over her reddened knuckles. “Sorry I lied and sorry I hurt you.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You overdid it. They’ll be sore tomorrow.”
As the rough pads of his fingers stroked over the back of her palm, she shivered. She searched his face, his eyes, looking for what, she wasn’t entirely sure, but all she found was sincerity, remorse, and even pain. “Why?” she asked in what sounded more like a croak than her normal voice.
He sighed as he repeated the process on the second side, starting with removing the glove. “I’d been following you every Friday and Saturday night. Watched you leave the bar with a different man each time.” His gravelly voice filled with displeasure.
Unease slithered over her. Shit, what must he have thought of her, seeing her head to a motel with man after man?
“The first few times, I had no idea what you were doing, or why. I thought you were out of your fucking mind. After what you’d been through, to leave with men you didn’t know?” He was tense as hell. Muscles bunched, his fists curled on his thighs. “Pissed me the fuck off.”
Both hands free now, Chloe rubbed them together and swallowed. This man was dangerous. In the literal sense. If he wanted to hurt her, he could. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to protect herself. Hell, chances were high the handcuffs she’d used to secure him to the bed were child’s play to him. He probably could have snapped those headboard slats in two any damn time he wanted.
Yet, she didn’t feel so much as a niggle of unease around him. Even now as his mood trended toward a darker side.
Rolling his shoulders, he seemed to calm somewhat. “I ran through every scenario in my head. Maybe you were dealing drugs, maybe it was a work thing I didn’t understand. Maybe some kind of off-the-wall therapy. And of course, I wondered if you were fucking them. You became an obsession I eventually couldn’t resist. So, I became one of your guys.”
“It was only supposed to be the one time,” he plowed on. “I vowed it would only be once. To find out exactly what you were doing. So what did it matter who you thought I was? You would have run from me had I been truthful.” His gaze never wavered from hers as he gave her a truth she had no idea how to handle. “And then I had you. And you were so fucking brave. So fucking beautiful when you came. There was no way in hell I couldn’t do it again. So I kept going. With you and with the lies.”
Chloe’s heart plummeted to the ground. It shouldn’t have. Whatever this screwed-up relationship had morphed into, it started with her using him and him lying to her, not any kind of romantic notion. She had no right to be upset about his reasons for leaving the bar with her. But it still irked her. The woman in her wished he’d left with her because he wanted her. Not because he was curious about her odd behavior.
She was left with questions gnawing a hole through her gut. How was he not disgusted by her actions? By what she’d become since she was kidnapped?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Chloe stated, voice heavy with fatigue. “You’ve known the whole time. Every time we’ve been together.” Water spilled from her eyes. Rocket rose from the floor, taking a seat next to her on the bed.
She didn’t kick him off. That had to be a good sign. Chloe had paid attention to what Jig was teaching her. Her cathartic punch-fest might have been sloppy and wild, but it wasn’t without some skill. He’d bear bruises for a good few days.
“Known what? What happened to you? I know how you were when I found you, but even I don’t know the details of what happened.” They’d never discussed it. But he knew she’d thought all her encounters with the men were anonymous. That the guys she took to that hotel room had no idea why she derived pleasure in dominating them. That they would assume it was just a kink. She never had to worry how they viewed her because they were clueless to what she’d been through.
But not him. Not only did he know what Lefty did to her, he was the one and only person, besides the medical team, who knew exactly how badly her body had been treated. Exactly how battered and abused she’d been.
Rocket caught the tears before they could track all the way down her cheeks. He cradled her face between his large palms, holding her head still so she couldn’t turn away. She let him, and he sent up a small prayer of thanks for small favors. “Baby, I’m not going to say it doesn’t matter or it’s okay, because it matters and it’s so far from fucking okay. Finding you that way fucked with my head. And yes, had it not been for that night I wouldn’t know who you are or felt compelled to follow you, but I don’t do shit I don’t want to do. I’m a mean motherfucker, ask anyone. I followed you because I was drawn to you, and I was with you in that hotel room all those times because I wanted you. Because I think you’re gorgeous, and I love your hands and this sexy as hell body all over me.”
Her eyes fell closed and a strangled sob erupted from her. “But everything else,” she whispered, shaking her head between his palms.
Rocket frowned and skimmed his hands down to her shoulders. He rubbed at the rock-hard tension bunching her small muscles. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you know what I did with all the men.” She swallowed and stared at a point somewhere on his chest. “You know how many men I’ve been with. You know what a slut I’ve become. Jesus, Logan, I was raped and beaten. Now I go out and pick up random men to fuck twice a week. And I’ve been doing it for months. That’s a lot of men. Even if I hadn’t been raped, even if you hadn’t seen what they did to me, everything that happened afterward makes me dirty, used. My head is so fucked up I’ve basically become a whore to scrape up some sense of peace for a few moments each week.”
“Stop!” he barked. Christ, her own mind was beating the hell out of her worse than Lefty had. Rocket gently placed a palm over her mouth to halt her growing frenzy of self-loathing. Every one of those words was a knife stripping his soul bare. He wanted nothing more than to take every ounce of pain from her. Copper was right. He was a damn protector. This impotent feeling of being unable to save Chloe from the agony of what happened to her was akin to the helplessness he encountered when his friend’s wife Elena killed herself. But the difference here was he still had a chance to help Chloe heal and find herself again. Never had he felt the desire to shield someone like he felt for Chloe. It was as high on his needs list as water, air, or shelter.
“Yes,” he said. “I know the exact number of men you walked out of that bar with. And that means I know the exact number of men you cuffed to the motel bed. And yes, I’d like to rip the dick off each and every one of them. But never once did it even cross my mind that you are dirty, or easy, or a slut. Not because you were violated, and not because of the way you’ve coped since then.”
Her red-rimmed, puffy eyes gazed at him with hope. Even sweaty and tear-stained, she was beyond beautiful to him. “But—”
He shook his head. “You need to get those thoughts out of your pretty head.”
Chloe licked her dry lips nearly making him groan. The action shot straight to his dick. He was a sick fuck who couldn’t even give her this serious conversation without wanting to feel that damn tongue lapping at his cock. “Logan, the number of men I’ve been with in the past few months would shock most people in polite society.” As she spoke, she again averted her gaze as though too embarrassed to face him.
Snorting, he captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. When she was once again facing him, he said, “First of all, fuck polite society. My brothers and I haven’t lived in that world ever. I couldn’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of you, and I have no problem introducing anyone who gives you lip to our enforcer, Zach. He and Louie will make them wish they’d never been born.”
Unable to turn away since he still held her chin captive, Chloe frowned. “I haven’t m
et Louie.”
“He’s a bat. A Louisville Slugger to be exact. One Zach uses to help people see things from his perspective.”
Chloe gasped, her eyes growing huge. She was so goddamned pretty.
“Baby, what you endured after Lefty kidnapped you would break most people. There’s not a damn person alive who has the right to judge you for the way you’re handling shit now.”
“Logan,” she whispered, scooting closer.
It was then he realized he’d had his hands on her for the past few moments. One on her face, the other still resting on her shoulder. He’d touched her more since they entered his room than he had the entire time he’d know her. And she seemed to be okay with it. Maybe because she was too distracted to notice.
“You think I don’t get it? You think I don’t understand what you’re doing isn’t about sex? You were raped,” he said, pretending her flinch didn’t gut him. “You were tied up, and men touched you against your will.” Saying this and witnessing her pained reaction wasn’t easy, but necessary. She had to understand that he didn’t blame her for the way she’d been living recently. It was a product of trauma. Not who she was.
“The only time I’ve been able to breathe lately is when I have that feeling of control. Of power. It only lasts for a few minutes, but it’s become vital to my surviving each week without completely breaking down.”
He nodded. “I get it. You know I was in the Marines. When I separated, I was recruited by a private defense contractor because of certain skills I possessed. Babe, you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen. Worst of the worst. Fuck, you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve done. There’s no script for how people are going to react when their ship is blown to fucking bits. All you can do is grab the nearest floating object and hold on for dear life. And that’s what you’ve done.”
