“Really,” he drawled, and I smirked, going on.
“Pearl Jam- um, no. I felt U2’s “One” was haunting but hit a little too close to home.”
He sighed at that, pointing to my neatly written sentences. “I agree with U2. However, we will discuss your Pearl Jam and Metallica rejection later. I’ll let Alice in Chains slide. Continue.”
Exasperated, I crossed off my notes as I went along. “Dr. Dre will remain on my iPod. Radiohead I loved and would like to hear more of their work. En Vogue… I don’t know, West, they just seem really mad…”
He laughed, crossing his ankle over his knee and sitting back to drape his arm over me.
“Soundgarden, Oasis, and Counting Crows… all mildly enjoyable, but I think I fell asleep.” I clicked the pen closed.
“So, you’re almost to 1995. It gets better. Any general impressions of the decade?”
I shrugged. “It was strange hearing a bunch of songs without random rap interludes.”
He grinned at that. “I’ll bet.”
“But… I like it. I don’t know about it being the best decade ever for music, but I’m only halfway through.”
“Undecided. I’ll take it. Now, let’s grab something to eat.”
We ate at Subway in the airport. Once we were boarded for Italy, he suggested that I sleep. I nodded, my eyes already heavy. I slept during the flight to Rome, finally jolting awake and reaching for his arm. Reading his watch, I looked up at him in shock. “I slept for so long! I didn’t dream at all… I can’t believe I slept for so long…”
“You didn’t miss anything,” he assured me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I slept a little, too. We both needed it.”
“Are we landing soon?”
“An hour.”
I glanced back at the airplane bathroom, and he shifted so that I could stand. When I returned, he met me with a deep kiss, knotting his fingers into my hair to tilt my head back. “I need you again,” he murmured against my ear, sending shivers through every nerve in my body. The throbbing between my legs nearly knocked the wind out of me, and I nodded in breathless agreement.
Once we landed in Rome, West checked us into a room at the airport Hilton for the four-hour layover. We barely made it to the door of our room before he pulled me close, his mouth claiming mine.
Somehow he fought with the keycard to open the door, and in moments we found the bed.
The force of his lovemaking chased away my dark thoughts of Troy, the dreams, and Logan. We clung to each other, silently acknowledging that it could be the last time that we would ever be together again.
He took me over, and I arched my back, crying out as he covered every inch of my body with his mouth.
“I love you,” I cried, breaking apart in his arms, succumbing to tears. The overwhelming emotions took over, and I fell apart beneath him. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want Logan, I want you,” I sobbed.
“Jesus Christ,” he growled, rolling over and taking me with him so that I was locked in his arms. “Baby, don’t. Don’t think about him. Not right now.”
“How can you just let me go back to him?” I cried, unable to control my breakdown. I knew that it was coming, I’d known it since the cottage. I chose then, of all times, to completely lose it.
“I won’t,” he answered, his tone incredulous. “You think that this is the end? That I’m going to just walk away?”
“I… didn’t…”
“We need him as our ally right now, Roam. We’re not telling him. Not yet. It will kill me if you kiss him, I know that. But your safety means more to me than a couple of kisses.”
“I love him, but not like I love you, West. I could never love him the way this feels,” I whispered, covering my heart with my hands.
He sighed deeply, turning his face into my hair. “I love you, Roam Camden. And I have for my entire life.”
My anxiety turned to fear as our flight approached St. Petersburg. As we circled the airport, I knew that Logan was waiting below, and I knotted my fingers together. Thoughts of Logan, our life, and him asking me to marry him in the parking lot at the school played on a guilt-ridden reel. The ringing in my ears began just as West grabbed me by my shoulders.
“Roam, stop. You’re white as a ghost… baby, I’m not saying a word to him, and he doesn’t have to know.”
“I am immoral,” I sobbed, my breath coming too fast as more tears burned my eyes. “I’ve already hurt him, and I can’t change it… and I don’t want to change it if it means taking back the time I’ve spent with you. It just doesn’t make sense anymore,” I cried, trying to keep my voice down.
Several passengers turned around to stare, and I could hear their judgmental thoughts from my seat in the back of the plane.
“Get it together,” he whispered, brushing at my tears with his thumbs as he held my face in his hands. He stared me down. “You can’t tell him. You feel guilty, and you think confessing will make your guilt go away. It won’t, Roam. It will only anger and hurt him, and then we lose him as our ally. Cry all you want, because you are happy to see him. But do not tell him.”
“I won’t,” I promised in a tearful rush. His sobering words helped me get a handle on myself, and by the time we walked down the corridor to our gate, I felt more in control. We kept an appropriate distance between us, not touching in any way.
This is how it has to be now.
Longing replaced the guilt in my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Logan was waiting for me at our gate. I met his familiar gaze, not believing it was actually him. He seemed so much older, and the dark circles under his eyes spurred my natural concern for him. He was just as handsome as he’d always been, drawing the gaze of a group of Italian girls exiting the gate.
His eyes never left mine, and he hurried to me, his arms encircling me before I had time to think.
“Camden… God I missed you,” he rushed, his mouth against my neck.
West watched him coolly, his jaw tightening. I knew that he wanted to push Logan away, but was restraining himself.
“I missed you so much, Logan,” I whispered.
He pulled away and bent to kiss me. My betraying lips, still swollen from West’s kisses in the hotel only hours before, met his. The assaulting surge of fresh guilt nearly sent me into more hysterics. I tried to return his kiss, finally crying out softly and backing away.
His eyes burned into mine, and I looked away, glancing around the crowed airport worriedly.
“We have to get out of here. I can’t stand this crowd, he could be anywhere,” I cried, looking pleadingly between both of them. Logan reached for my bag, but West already had it in his hands.
“We need to talk to Logan about his experience, and then we’re going to the fountain. Logan, where are you staying?”
West’s authoritative tone put me at ease, but when I looked at Logan, my stomach clenched.
“You’re going to stay away from her,” Logan snapped, steering me out of the airport. I struggled to keep up with him, and West never left my side.
“We’re working together,” West returned, shooting him a pointed glare as he ushered us both toward the doors. “We’ve been traveling for almost thirty hours. Jetlag is going to set in pretty soon, and we need to make our plans, eat, and get ready.”
Logan ignored him, leading me to a vehicle along the curb. The word taksi was printed on the roof. “Laima,” Logan directed, speaking to the driver.
I glanced nervously at West, and he answered my silent question. “It’s a restaurant,” he assured me, assisting the driver with our bags. “Logan, calm down.”
Logan glared at him. “We’ll talk after she eats. She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days. I knew I should have stayed with her,” he barked, seating me between himself and the window.
It took seconds for me to realize that West and Logan sitting next to each other was a bad idea.
I shifted, crawling over Logan’s lap. “I’ll sit in the
middle, because the last thing we need is for you two to start punching each other. And stop talking about me like I’m not even here.”
“My hotel is right around the corner from the restaurant,” Logan replied, to no one in particular.
He gripped my hand, and I could feel West’s restraint as he tried not to touch me.
I turned to Logan. “What did my dad say when you told him?”
He shrugged. “He barely had time to say anything. He said it didn’t make sense for us to run, and that he loved us both and supported us. I hung up.”
I could tell how difficult it must have been for him to hang up on my dad. They were so close, and my dad was a hero to him. I squeezed his hand.
“God… I know that it wasn’t easy. I’m sorry that you had to be the one to do that, Logan.”
I expected him to respond, but instead, he answered me with silence.
“Your dad will be fine,” West said quietly, and his simple words were reassuring to my anxious nerves.
I turned to Logan, trying again to get him to talk to me. “You said that you were gone for a day, but here… it was only a few minutes? Maybe we can do whatever we can in 1977 to change things, and then get back to Ohio before my dad has time to-”
“There’s nothing you can do to change things,” Logan snapped, turning to West. His tone was filled with fierce hostility. “I guess he hasn’t told you all about 1977.”
“She knows about it. I told her.” West shifted slightly to look at Logan in the small taxi. The taxi took a corner, and I slid into Logan’s lap. He gripped me to him securely.
“You didn’t tell her. If you had, she wouldn’t be sitting here next to you.”
“I already know,” I replied softly to Logan, easing back into the middle of the seat.
He opened his mouth to say more, finally narrowing his eyes and turning to look out the window.
As we rode, I took in the scene around us. A series of buildings, all stone apartments in various heights, were built next to each other with no space between. The colors were earth shades with an occasional mint green or yellow mixed in. A massive, rock arch loomed ahead.
“Do you know what that is?” West asked me, nodding toward the arch.
“The Narva Arch… it was erected as a memorial in 1814 to greet the soldiers who were returning from their victory over Napoleon,” I explained.
It took me a second to realize that he was quizzing me, not asking me. I felt the slightest pressure of his hand against my thigh, and he lowered his voice. “Good, Roam.”
The bistro was around the next corner. West paid the fare, and Logan indicated to the waiter that we wanted a private booth. I slid in next to Logan, and West sat across from us. The waitress who took our order spoke English but had a thick Russian accent.
“Okay, Logan, please tell me,” I asked him, my fingers shaking as I reached for the glass of water.
He turned to me. “When we go to the fountains, there is a paved walkway for tourists. There are over sixty-four fountains, hundreds of bronze statues, and tons of other decorative shit. I went there just to get an idea of the layout of the place,” he explained.
“I’ve seen the photos of the palace. The fountains are incredible,” I commented, urging him to go on.
He nodded. “I thought I’d get myself thrown in prison if I jumped the hedges to get to a few of the fountains, so I didn’t try. You could walk right up to some of the fountains. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I just dipped my arm in the water… my arm with the numbers… and that was it. I was gone.”
“Where did you end up?” West asked him.
“April fourteenth, 1977. Atlanta, Georgia.”
West leaned forward. “And were you in your own body, or did you feel that you had entered into someone else’s life?”
Logan tensed. “I was definitely not myself. I had blond hair and was a couple of inches shorter. But… it was my mind.”
West glanced at me, and then back to Logan. “Where did you arrive, and how did you return?”
Logan stared at him defiantly, obviously reluctant to help him in any way. “I came out in some fountain in Atlanta, in a park. I went back the same way, by dipping the numbers into the fountain.”
“So, you took the numbers with you? They didn’t disappear when you traveled?”
“No. And they were the same coordinates that I have right now. For Russia.”
Our food was served. I wanted Logan to go on, but intuition gave me pause as we slipped into silence.
I thought of his face in my nightmare as he pinned me to the wall. His eyes, the same eyes that had gazed so lovingly at me for years, were filled with the kind of malice that I couldn’t imagine him being capable of.
I dropped my fork, leaving my salad untouched.
“You need to eat, Cam,” he urged, brushing his fingers over my hair softly. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. Troy may have traveled there already.”
The mention of Troy’s name did nothing for my appetite. “Logan, I’m not hungry.”
“Eat, Roam,” West ordered, shifting our luggage out of the way of a passing patron.
I met his eyes and picked up my fork, spearing a cucumber slice.
Logan watched us both, and I felt the first hint of suspicion in his gaze. “So, what did you two do over the past few days?” he fired sarcastically, looking first at West, and then to me.
I felt the intense heat creeping up my collar and swallowed hard.
West spoke easily. “I filled her in on the past and helped her through her nightmares about you raping and killing her.”
I gasped, gripping the edge of my chair.
Logan almost knocked the table over as he stood, and I threw myself in front of him. Several customers turned to stare at us. “Stop! Please don’t make a scene Logan, please,” I begged, looking around anxiously. “Please,” I whispered.
His fists clenched, and West sat and stared at him coolly. “I’m not going to fight you, Logan. I’m just stating the facts. You’ve had the nightmares, and you know what she’s dealing with.”
“Let’s just get out of here and make a plan,” I tried, glancing at West. “Are we staying at Logan’s hotel, or-”
“Look at the way you trust him,” Logan growled under his breath, and I turned to him, shocked by his accusatory tone. “I’ve known you all of your fucking life, and now you don’t trust me because of some dreams?” He turned and stormed out of the restaurant, and I covered my mouth, forcing away my tears as I ran after him.
Outside, I found Logan in the shades of dusk, walking briskly ahead. I ran to catch up with him, leaving West to deal with our bill and bags.
“Logan, stop!” I cried. He finally did, just inside an alley. I brushed my windblown hair from my eyes, breathing heavily from the short run. My lungs were still not one-hundred percent better, and my thin gasps reminded me that I had drowned only days before. “I just… I’m so confused and scared right now, and I… I know that over all of these lifetimes, West has been protecting me, so I trust him-”
“Not on April fourteenth, 1977,” Logan shouted, his hands gripping my forearms. I shook my head, pleading. “Did he tell you what happened in that hotel room, how you died?”
“I was strangled,” I said, tears threatening. “And he’d passed out, he didn’t save me. I know, he told me.”
Logan released my arms, taking an incredulous step back. “Fuck… Roam, he strangled you. He killed you himself. West did. He was all jacked up on drugs or something and beat the shit out of you and strangled you!”
The sounds of the busy street screamed to a whirring halt.
I processed his words as West caught up to us. My heart depressed against my chest, forgetting how to beat.
I looked at the man that I’d fallen in love with… that I’d trusted with my entire heart. I’d given myself to him in every way, as his haunted, blue eyes met mine.
I knew, at that moment, that it was true.
“I watched it happen,” Logan said, sounding defeated. “I didn’t know it was you until you were gone. You were blond and looked older. He called you Julie. He was so angry with you, and hit you-”
“Enough!” West raged, looking fiercely at Logan.
The drone of the passing traffic became a whisper as the darkness crept over my eyes. I welcomed the blackness.
. . .
“What did you do!?”
I feel the back of my head slam against the wall, the impact sending lightning streaks of pain through my forehead and eyes.
West is bare-chested, his face unshaven. He is seething with anger, wrath lowering his voice several octaves.
“West?” I cry, shaking my head. He tips his head back, taking a long gulp from a flask. He wipes his mouth, drooling disgustingly.
“You killed it,” he growls, menacing.
“Killed what?” I sob, confused. What year is this? Where is my mirror?
“The baby,” he hisses. He pulls his fist back and delivers a powerful blow to my face.
My nose feels like it explodes.
I drop to my knees in pain. He grabs me by my hair, wrenching my face up to look at him.
“You had it cut out of you and left it to die in some alley,” he seethes, gripping my throat, squeezing. I gag, feeling his fingers crushing my windpipe.
I cannot breathe.
I am dying.
. . .
“She’s still not breathing. She never stops this long!” Logan shouted, his voice sounding canned and far away.
“No… she’s coming around.”
West’s voice. Urgent.
I opened my eyes, blinking and focusing on West. Fear, the same cold fear that I had discerned in his classroom on the first day of school, rushed through me with piercing awareness. I sat up and let the scream tear from my throat, pushing his arms away. “No! No…”
“Shh,” he murmured, his hands running over my hair. “Roam…”
Roam (Roam Series, Book One) Page 20
