Pushing the thought aside, Logan finished pumping the gas and slid back into the warmth of the car. Then he handed her the keys, which she snatched from him, seething.
“You need to settle down,” he said, which only seemed to make her angrier.
“Where to now?” Kass’s tone was chilling, coordinated with the weather.
“Get back on the freeway.”
Her hand was steady on the wheel, unwavering, refusing to show fear. She didn't speak or even look in his direction, but that was all right. He didn't need friends. He didn't need relationships. He needed a fucking way out.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Kass’s words startled Logan out of his trance. He looked at her, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. Her tone had conveyed little fear as there was no tremble of uncertainty in her voice. She’d asked him that as if she were asking for a tissue. Nonchalant, careless—as if she didn't care one way or the other. He knew she did. She had to. She was human.
“Maybe. Why?” The response rolled heavily off Logan’s tongue, and the anxiety in his throat tightened. He looked away from her for a moment to compose himself, the headache seeming to worsen with everything that came out of his mouth.
Kass didn't answer for a long time. He couldn't read her expression. It was blank. Even now, she displayed no real sign of emotion. She was good. Damn, she was good.
Logan stared at her, wondering what in the hell a person had to go through to become so good at shutting down. Could one be so broken that they had nothing left to offer—not even hate?
“Why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with then?” she asked.
Logan looked away, out the window where the snow was falling heavily. “I might need you alive more than I want you dead,” he said. “But I haven’t decided yet.”
“What could an asshole like you need me for? I can only assume that sometime in your pathetic life you learned to drive yourself around.”
Logan didn’t answer because he didn’t know what to say. The possibility of needing this woman in the seat next to him was real, but he couldn’t tell her why, not yet anyway. It didn’t matter at this point what he told her; he’d kidnapped her, and he thought nothing he said would make her feel better about the situation.
“Just FYI, kidnapping is considered a violent felony and is punishable by life imprisonment,” Kass said matter-of-factly when Logan didn’t speak.
“I know.”
“And you’re still okay with this?”
Logan shook his head and looked away from her, fingers drumming on his knee. “Just be quiet.”
“We have to stop soon. I’m tired.”
Logan looked at the time on his watch. It was almost five in the morning. He’d barely slept for days. The anticipation leading to his release date had fucked up his sleep schedule, and he hadn’t stopped moving since the moment he walked through the prison gates.
At first, exhaustion to the point of wanting to curl up and die cocooned him, but not anymore. Once he'd reached day three, he no longer needed sleep. He no longer wanted sleep. But Kass—well, she needed sleep. If she would be of any use to him, she had to be able to think straight. He was getting desperate. There was no way to dump her without risk of her narcing on him. Plus, the possibility of needing her for his plan to work was increasingly becoming a possibility. He felt trapped, a caged animal, and he was ready to lose his mind.
“We'll sleep in the car.”
“Why can't we get a room?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” Logan said. His eyes flickered over her face, noticing for the first time the freckles on her nose and the tiny dimple in her right cheek. Her long brown hair was pushed back away from her face, tucked behind her ears, which tinted red with aggravation.
“I will not turn you in, Logan,” she said after a moment. “I'm not going to risk anybody's life, including mine. I just want a bed. We can continue driving after we get sleep if that's what you want.”
He pondered this for a moment, unconvinced, and uncertain if he should take her up on this. A bed sounded nice, and they were far enough out of the city he would be far from the police—he hoped. He wasn't sure if he would ever be far enough away from the police to satisfy his paranoia. But what would he do with her at a motel? She’d inevitably escape. There would be people on every side. He couldn’t very well tie her up, could he?
He had to. There was no other way.
“Fine,” he said. “I know I don't have to tell you again how you will pay if you fuck this up. Right?”
“I heard you the first time.” Her hands were clutching the steering wheel with a death grip. When she relaxed her fingers, an outline of sweaty prints glazed the wheel. He imagined that if she had a chance, she’d wrap those hands around his neck and strangle him.
“Pull off at the next exit,” Logan said. “I saw a sign for a motel.”
She did so without argument, coming to a rolling stop in the parking lot of a ghetto-looking Motel Six with a flashing neon sign that read H-tel-v cancy. Paint peeled off the cement walls, and dead shrubberies littered the walkway. The odor of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air though there was nobody around. It was ugly to look at, and probably sketchy as hell, but it was a bed and a hot shower. Except for a beat-up red Ford that looked like it had seen better days, the lot was empty. He needed empty. Crowded meant people, and people were risky.
“Well, it's not the Ritz.” He pulled the keys from the ignition and stuck them in his pocket and then picked up the gun and rested it in his lap in clear view before handing her another wad of bills. “Go on, then,” he said. “I'm tired.”
“You’re a dick.” Kass pushed the door open and stepped out, rolling her eyes as she did so. As she walked steadily towards the door, he kept his gaze on her, ready to react if he saw anything suspicious. Then again, what exactly could he do if she tried to fight him? Shoot her? Leave her there and try to escape as quickly as he could in the SUV before the town’s law enforcement cornered him? Yeah, right. At this point all he could do was pray to a God he didn’t even believe in that Kass would cooperate and not send him back to prison.
The old woman behind the front desk greeted Kass with a nod and checked her in, bored with the transaction. A moment later she came back out to the SUV and handed him the room key.
“Well done,” he said. “You might come in handy after all.”
The snow had let up by now, but the air was brisk and cold as they made their way into the quiet of the room where Logan was careful to lock the deadbolt and close the curtains behind them. Kass sat down on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands together, anxious, her eyes on him.
“What now?”
Logan looked over, catching the fear in her eyes as she watched him. It was almost comforting, he realized, to see she had more than one emotion. She’d been a bit sulky thus far, cold and void, but emotions were real. He could control emotions. He hoped.
“I know you will hate me for this, but hate away.” He grabbed the backpack from the floor and rummaged through it, a moment later coming up with a long, braided rope. He hadn’t expected he’d need it on this journey but still wanted to prepare for anything. Five years in Boy Scouts had taught him that. He’d been an Eagle Scout, after all.
“You're kidding me,” Kass said, and guilt stabbed at him. He wasn’t this person, a man that tied up innocent women. He’d done stupid things in his life, sure, but this was pushing it.
And yet, he had no other choice, not even if it killed him.
Not yet, anyway.
“I can't have you running away and narcing on me now, can I? But don't worry, you can have the bed. Now lay back.”
Kass hesitated for a split second, glaring at him, but when he stepped towards her with the rope, she pushed herself down. She feared him, and that would be to his advantage. The gun had been a nice touch to gain the upper hand, despite his resistance acknowledging the fact he even had it.
Kass raised her arms above her head, and Logan knelt over her. She cringed, her muscles tight, a block of steel beneath him. Logan reached up and tied her hands above her, feeling a moment of confliction when she winced as the rope cut into her skin. He couldn’t meet her gaze, couldn’t stare into the eyes of a frightened, innocent woman who now loathed him. His movements were mechanical as he tightened it once more just to be safe and straightened up.
“You should try to get some sleep. We have a long trip tomorrow.” Logan stared at Kass, hoping the shame in his eyes wouldn’t give him away. She looked vulnerable splayed out on her back on the mattress, her hair a mess, shockingly gray eyes slicing holes into him. Such angry eyes. Hateful.
Not that he could blame her. He hated him, too.
Logan grabbed the gun from where he had set it on the desk, then flipped on the TV. He took a seat in the office chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed to stare aimlessly at the news reports in front of him. He didn't hear it, just saw it. Too many other things were on his mind. He thought of Laurel again, and anger washed over him. He had to keep his eye on the prize. Everything he’d done so far would be worth it, even this, if he could just get the confession he needed from Laurel.
He ran his thumb over the chilling steel of the gun as his step-mother’s smiling face popped into his view. He wanted to break something, to lose his cool, to finally let out all the rage he’d kept bottled up inside for the last several years.
“So, why did you do it?”
The sound of Kass's words breaking the silence pulled him from the dark haze he’d been sulking in. Logan looked over at her, surprised, his fingers faltering from the gun in his lap.
“Do what?”
“Whatever it is you did to get into this mess,” Kass said. Her unflinching, stormy eyes met his, unwavering, challenging him. “You’re running from the police, which means you’ve either done something illegal, or are about to do something illegal, and they know it.”
Logan stared at her. Even tied up and defenseless, her eyes flashing, she was defying him. She was speaking her mind. She wasn’t crying, sobbing into her arm, begging for her life. She looked at Logan now like she was looking at a moron; suddenly, he felt like the village was missing their idiot.
“But if you’d already done something illegal, there would be no ‘plan’ you keep speaking of,” Kass continued thoughtfully. “You’d just be running to get away, right?” She tilted her head to the side, reading him like an open book. The freckles on her nose stood out under the yellow glow of the bedside lamp, her milky pale skin still flushed with anger.
“You’re reaching pretty high,” he said. But she wasn’t reaching for shit. She’d nailed it.
“So that must mean you’re going to do something illegal, and they know it,” Kass said, ignoring him. She paused, her lips coming together as she raised her chin. Logan continued to watch her, his fingers back on the gun; it was useless, but it reassured him anyway, because Kass was good. But was that good for him, or dangerous?
“But how would law enforcement already know you’re out here wanting to break the law, Logan?” Kass mused. The way she did it so confidently, so brash, set him on edge. She averted her eyes from his face and to the ceiling, pensive. “Maybe it’s that they know of some premeditated plan of yours, yeah? Or . . .” she trailed off, then shrugged one shoulder. Her eyes met his again. “Unless you’re a jailbreak, there’s only one other reason you’d be running.”
Kass shifted slightly on the bed, and Logan caught sight again of the nasty bruise peeking out of her shirt. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
“You already did something illegal, you were arrested, and you served your time.” Her eyes flickered away from him again and landed on the flimsy backpack sitting on the floor near his feet. “Your bag contains nothing helpful,” she continued. “No dry clothes, not even any food. It’s almost like you walked straight out of prison with just the clothes on your back.” When she looked at him again, Logan found he couldn’t continue to hold her gaze steady anymore. He looked down at his hands, at the gun, so unfamiliar in his grip.
“Be quiet, Kass.”
“If you just got out of jail, you’d almost certainly be on parole. And, as far as I know, parolees aren’t allowed to kidnap innocent civilians at gun point and take them on a wild goose chase across the country.” Kass pursed her lips and shrugged again. “Or, you know, carry a deadly weapon like a Glock.”
“You know your guns,” Logan said. This was dangerous territory, and he figured averting her from the conversation would be a good start.
“I don’t see that you’re an idiot,” Kass continued, and Logan almost smiled. So much for that theory. “A jerk, maybe. Arrogant. Self-assured. Determined. But not an idiot. There’s only one reason a man just released from prison would violate parole.”
“And what reason is that?” Logan prodded. He figured that denying anything and everything would be a total waste of time. Kass was a damn spitfire, and she was so onto him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to dislodge her.
“Revenge,” she said. “Whatever it is you’re doing has to tie directly into the sentence you just served. Otherwise, there’s no reason for such desperation.” Kass rolled her head to the other side, still studying Logan’s face. He clenched one fist, the fingernails digging into the calloused skin on his palm. If he pushed hard enough, the skin would break. He might bleed. He'd always embraced pain. It was a grip on reality, a reminder that nothing in this world was immortal. Not even him.
“Do you know much about guns?” he asked. He saw Kass's body tense visibly, and that satisfied him. If he were to get through this, he had to have the upper hand. Not her. She was fighting him, and he had to stand his ground.
“You’re an asshole,” she said.
Logan held up the weapon, running his fingers along the cold steel of the nozzle. “Truth be told, neither do I. It just looked pretty, I guess.”
Kass said nothing. She stared him down, still waiting for an answer. He hated how snide she looked—how undaunted. He needed her to be frightened. If she were frightened, she wouldn't pose such a problem.
“You must not be afraid to die.” Logan sat up, resting the gun in his lap. “Is that the case? Do you embrace death, Kass?”
“I never used to,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze sharp. Once more she was egging him on, loving that two could play this game. “I never used to,” she said again. “But since I've met you, Logan, death doesn't sound like a bad fate. Not anymore.”
Logan stood and crossed around the bed, gun still in his grip, and then he reached out and touched Kass’s cheek. Her face was hot, on fire, yet she didn't pull away from his touch.
“Fuck you,” she said. Logan straightened up and set the gun on the desk. He sat back down in the office chair and folded his hands across his stomach.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
Kass had no idea what time it was when she woke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, but she could see a glint of sunlight coming in through a crack in the curtains. She shifted her body uncomfortably, wincing as the rope cut deeper into her wrists.
She felt so vulnerable splayed out on the bed like some cheap fucking hooker. She hated feeling like that. She hated feeling like she was at the mercy of someone else—especially a man. Especially a man like Logan. She’d gone from one asshole man to the next; brilliantly done, Kass. He had tightened the ropes not only around her wrists more than necessary, but the fresh cuts on her arm were screaming in pain beneath the tingling sensation in her limbs.
Despite the odd angle of her body, Kass had slept well, even if it only had been for a few hours. But aside from the exhaustion overtaking her mentally, her body was sore. The pain seemed to start at the soles of her feet and make its way to her hands. Her arms had gone to sleep and were humming with numbness as she flexed her fingers, trying to bring them
back to life. Her neck hurt, her back hurt, and a stress-induced migraine seemed to slip its way in slowly.
She needed a plan. She needed a plan now, and she needed it fast. The longer she waited to see what would happen, the further away from home and help they got. She had to get away from him, and she knew that, but the goddamn gun that hid in his pocket terrified her. One wrong move and that thing would kill her on the spot. And while the depression in her soul reared its ugly black head a few times a week, she wasn’t that far gone. Not yet. Fuck him; when it was her time to go, it would be on her terms.
In the bathroom, the water shut off and she could hear Logan rummaging around in there. The gun was sitting on the edge of the desk, and she was immensely relieved. She felt better when it was in her sight, and not hidden somewhere with him, ready for use.
A moment later, Logan emerged from the bathroom, still damp from the shower. He wore the same clothes as yesterday, but his black hair now glinted under the moisture of the water. His white T-shirt clung to the wet spots on his skin, along his chest and up his arms which, she noticed, were sculpted and shaped—arms and chest of an athlete. He caught Kass’s gaze, rubbing the back of his neck, and she knew he’d caught her staring.
“Sleep well?”
“Like being at home in my bed, comfortable and safe,” Kass said.
“Happy to hear.”
Kass stared at Logan in heavy silence as he sat down on the bed next to her, reaching up to gently loosen the rope cutting into her skin. The muscles in his arms flexed as he did so, and when he leaned over her to undo the last stubborn knot, Kass found herself admiring the sculpted shape of his jaw. Her eyes traveled from his freshly shaved chin and up to the sharp angle of his nose before meeting the gentle but uneasy stare of glacial blue eyes.
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