“Well, I love movies and puzzles and reading. Oh—and I love pizza and Chinese and cats—”
“Jesus, not now. Let’s go back to your place. Text your work. Tell them you’re taking a leave of absence.”
“Leave of absence! I can’t do that. I need my job. Especially after you cost me three months’ worth of rent!”
“Fine, then quit. Collect unemployment.”
I scoff. “What? No! I love my job!”
“Well, I’m sure you love your life more, even though I’m starting to wonder. Let’s go.” He doesn’t give me a chance for rebuttal and grabs my arm, pulling us back onto the busy sidewalk. He walks us up to a shiny black muscle car and opens the passenger side. “Get in.” I’m about to refuse when he pushes me in, then slams the door and jogs around to the driver’s side. I squeal as he peels into traffic like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of cars.
He doesn’t make a peep the entire drive, his scowl doing the talking for him. Every time I open my mouth to say something, I swear he growls, and I shut my mouth. When we pull up to my building, I debate jumping out and running. But to where? Who knows. And since I’m out of shape, I doubt I would get far before he tackled me and snapped my neck.
“Let’s go,” he grumbles, throwing the car in park. His phone dings, and he stalls, reading the message. “Fuck. Fuck!”
“What’s wrong? Do you have to go? We can meet up later.” I reach for my door handle to get the hell outta dodge—literally, his Dodge Challenger is pretty souped-up and fast—but he snags my wrist.
“Not going anywhere.” He pulls me back into my seat and starts the car back up.
“I thought we were—”
“Change of plans. Vincent needs me to meet him. And he’s requesting I bring my girl. I need you to spit out anything I need to know about you.” He starts to pull into traffic when a black car cuts us off and blocks us in. I grab the dashboard, preparing for destruction, but Logan slams on the brakes before the car hits us.
“Fuck.”
“Why so many f-bombs? You seem to say that when things are about to go bad.” That’s when my focus is drawn on the guy getting out of the black car. “Is that…?”
“Yeah. Keep your mouth shut.” Logan rolls the window down halfway to a man I recognize from the gala last night. “What the fuck you want, Chino?” he barks.
“Just following orders. Vincent wants to see you,” Chino says.
“Yeah, thanks for the memo, asshole. I was just on my way there. Get your piece of shit car out of my way.”
Chino laughs. “Not my orders. We’re supposed to escort you there. You and your little girlfriend.” He leans in, eyeing me with interest, and my skin crawls with the heebie-jeebies. Logan reaches out, wraps his hand around Chino’s neck, and thrusts his face forward. His nose bashes against the doorframe of the window, and he grunts loudly. “You look at my girl like that again, and I’ll break more than your nose. Got me?”
“Fuck!” he howls, and Logan releases him. Chino stumbles away from the car, holding his gushing nose. “Get the fuck in my car.”
Logan turns to me. “Let’s go.” I nod up and down so fast, I feel like a walking bobblehead as I throw myself out of the car. I watch in fascination as Logan storms past Chino and opens the black Mustang’s door for me, unsure whether to swoon over his romantic gesture or piss my pants at how damn scary he is.
The drive to wherever we’re going is silent. Chino stares at me with disdain through the rearview mirror, and I find myself scooting closer to Logan. He has yet to lose the scowl but shockingly grabs my hand and folds his fingers over mine. My nerves begin to unravel with each minute spent in silence. The severity of what I’ve gotten myself into starts to register. Maybe I just come out and confess what I’ve done. There’s a small chance Vincent will understand, and we won’t have to keep up this silly charade. But what about the career-altering article that’s going to make you famous? True. True. Logan may be scary, but he’s not going to frighten me away from writing this article. I’ve been waiting my whole career for a break like this. Yeah, it’s dangerous, and I may have to go into hiding for the rest of my life because the Chicago mob wants my head, but my name will be written in the history books. I can see it now…Atticus Finch exposes—
“Knock it off,” Logan hisses, leaning into me.
“Stop what?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking. That grin. It’s not happening.”
How does he—you know what, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to know my plan. Play nice while keeping an ear open. That’s what I need to do. I’m a journalist. I need to seize every opportunity, and this is no different. I turn on my charm, or whatever I think my cheeky smile is, and reply, “Anything you say, babe.”
The rest of the ride is quiet, besides the little squeak that escapes me when he squeezes my hand too tight. We pull up to a hidden storefront, and everyone gets out. Logan walks around the car and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“This’ll be quick, babe. Then we can get some lunch.” He leans in and presses his lips to the top of my head. I know this is super fake, and he actually hates me, but I enjoy the comfort and pet name. I cozy up next to him, wrapping my arm around his thick waist, and walk with him inside the store.
Turns out, it’s a small restaurant. Garlic and oregano fill the air, and my stomach growls. Logan’s grip tightens around me, and I pull my wandering eyes away from the hanging salami to the table occupied by his boss.
“You rang, boss?” Logan says, appearing bored.
“That I did. Glad you could also bring your precious little secret along.” Vincent eyes me up and down, and just like before, I suspect he’s envisioning me without clothes on. Logan continues to act unconcerned by the sliminess of his boss and takes a seat at the table. I follow suit, scooting my chair closer to Logan and farther from Vincent.
Vincent finally pulls his gaze away from me and looks up at Chino. “What happened to you?”
“He ran into a wall,” Logan answers for him. “So, what do you need from me?”
Vincent’s smile is laced with malice. He brings his dark gaze over to me. “So interesting. Two years, and suddenly you surprise me with this very beautiful gift of yours. I must say, you have great taste, Justice.”
Logan leans back in his chair and grips my thigh. “She knows how to please me.” He turns to me and winks. Heat blasts across my cheeks. Considering I have no game, let alone much experience, his statement couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“Is that so?” Vincent looks at me, waiting for something…
“Oh! Yeah. I’m a wild one. When you have what he’s workin’ with, you do what it takes to stay on that train, if ya know what I mean…” And here lies Atticus Finch, died from being an idiot.
Vincent laughs, slamming his hand down on the table. “What a mouth you have. Tell me, Logan, is she this feisty when you’re shoving your cock down that tight throat of hers?”
Well, that escalated quickly. My smile falls, and my lips part at his vulgar question. “You know—”
“I know how to shut her up real nicely.” Logan grips my thigh, bruising my skin, and I gulp down my wince. He turns to me. “Baby, why don’t you go wait outside while we talk business?”
No argument from me. I get up, but Vincent halts me. “She stays. You felt comfortable bringing her to the gala, you must really trust her. I can’t imagine you would put her in a compromising position.”
“I trust her, but she doesn’t need to—”
“She stays,” Vincent says, his voice stern.
I sit back down, slapping a smile on my face. “Thanks. Means a lot you trust me. I wouldn’t do anything to harm my man. My trust is with him, which means it’s with you.” I wink and throw my arms around Logan’s neck. “Right, babe?” I kiss his cheek, then lower my mouth and start to nibble on his ear. Hmmm…this always seems way spicier in the books. Am I even doing this right?
“Okay, that’s en
ough,” Vincent barks, and I thankfully pull back. Ears are gross.
“So, what’s on the agenda? Anything I can help with?” I ask, wondering if I’m the only one who hears Logan growl.
Vincent peers over Logan’s shoulders and snaps his fingers. A man appears at the table, handing him a large folder. “We have a very important shipment coming through next week. Not our normal cargo.” He opens the folder and starts spreading out sheets of paper. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I lean forward. My eyes can’t take in all the information fast enough. The first couple of pages are pictures of colored shipping containers with the same word slapped on the side of each one. Valouro. The name is Spanish. Or maybe Portuguese. Another sheet is filled with rows of numbers and barcodes. The next page shows a layout of the Port of Chicago, a bunch of waterways that will lead out one way into the Atlantic and another way down into the Gulf of Mexico, along with dates and times for shipments. Four ports are listed, but one, in particular, is highlighted. Calumet Harbor. Mayor Brighton has been linked to corrupted wrongdoings at this exact port. The last page is a detailed profile of a bald man, in his late forties, if I had to guess.
“What is this?” I ask, failing at sitting and staying quiet.
Vincent takes a sip of his wine. “Curious little thing, aren’t you? And what do you plan on doing with the information if tell you?”
Certainly not exploit you to my tabloid magazine. “Maybe I can help. Be a distraction. Or be on the lookout.” Those are important duties in the action flicks.
Vincent throws his head back and bellows out a laugh. “My, my…I see now why you’ve kept her to yourself. I would never let her out of my sight. Addy, may I ask what it is you do for a living?”
Oh…well, crap on a stick. I guess this is why Logan told me to keep my trap shut. “I…it’s embarrassing to admit, but…yeah…I don’t actually have a job right now. Logan is kind of supporting me. Hence why I return the favor with…ya know…” I watch Vincent’s eyes light up and peer over at Logan, impressed with my answer. I sneak a look at him too. As cool as a cucumber. “But ya know, if you need more ears and eyes—”
“No,” Logan cuts in.
I glare at Logan. How am I going to get the story if I don’t go undercover? I need Vincent to let me in. This is the only way for me to learn his business and expose the drug trade happening right under our city’s nose. And looking at all this intel, something tells me there’s more than just drugs going in and out of those harbors. “Babe, I’m more than capable of helping out.”
“No, you’re not,” he snaps.
“Yes, I am.”
“NO—”
“Logan, enough. Let the young lady speak for herself. If she thinks she has it in her to tough out this world, let her. She seems to know what she wants. Reminds me of myself when I was her age.”
I want to tell Logan if he grinds his jaw any harder, he’s going to crack teeth, but I’m too busy smiling at my victory. I’m in. Soon, I’ll present the biggest story Celebrity Dirt has ever published and the world will be eating out of the palms of my hand. That, or I get busted and fed to a meat grinder.
“Now that that’s settled, I need you to secure the harbor.” Looks like the fun’s over. Vincent is back to business. “I need you to make sure these shipments stay off the radar. They are not to be flagged by any border patrol along the way. I’ve already secured immigration check points all the way through the Gulf of Mexico.”
Logan picks up the papers, further inspecting the information. “What about whoever handles the ports on the US side? That’s not gonna be easy. The Calumet Harbor is used mainly by the US Army—”
“I’ve already taken care of that. See? I’ve done half of your job for you.”
Logan accepts the jab and moves on. “Got it. Anything else I need to know? We dealing new product?”
“That’s none of your concern. Get the site secured.” He flicks his fingers, and Logan stands. I assume the meeting is over and stand as well. “Pleasure seeing you again, Addy. Let’s not be strangers.”
I smile and reach out to shake his hand. He covers mine with his and leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top. Shocked, I pull back. “Yeah, same. See ya, partner,” I joke. Logan snatches my arm and pulls me away at the sound of Vincent’s boisterous laugh.
Logan drags me out of the restaurant. When we step outside, I attempt to tug my arm out of his grip, only to lose my balance and trip forward. I thrust my hands out, ready to eat the pavement, when he grabs me and pushes me up against the car. “What the fuck was that?” he growls in my face.
“What was what? I was helping you. Did you want me to say I was happily employed at a tabloid magazine?”
Anger seeps from his pores. His breath is hot as he hisses in my face. “I wanted you to be fucking quiet. Not offer your goddamn services. What do you think you’re doing getting involved? You still think you’re gonna stick around, get all the juice, and live to write about it?”
Maybe.
Possibly.
Kind of sort of.
“Well, think again, baby girl. That ain’t happenin’. Cut this shit out right the fuck now.”
My own anger blossoms. I didn’t ask to get brought into this, but now that I am, I’m seeing this through. “No.”
“No?”
“Yeah, no. I’m involved now. I’m sticking this out—”
“Involved? Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me? Do you think you’re being slick? Huh, Nancy Drew?” He shoves his hand into the pocket of my jeans and pulls out my phone.
“Hey, give that back!”
He stops the app from recording and shoves it in his pocket. “I swear, I’ll get rid of you myself if—”
The door to the restaurant pops opens. Logan is quick, slamming his mouth over mine. His tongue slides between the barrier of my lips. It’s rough and hot—and, even though he catches me off guard, I’m one hundred percent on board. My arms wrap around him as he deepens our kiss, and I rake my nails down his back until I’ve cupped his tight butt cheeks, and just for fun, spank him.
“Get a fucking room, Justice. Anywhere but on my fucking car.” Logan nips at my bottom lip as he pulls away. He doesn’t look at me but pushes off the car and orders me to get in.
Clearly, he’s less affected by our kiss, because unlike him, my legs wobble. When I turn to open the door, I stumble off the curb. “Fine. I’m fine,” I state to anyone who’s watching as I climb into the car.
The ride back is just as uneventful. No one speaks, and you can cut the tension with a knife. I’m thankful when we pull up to my building. I climb out, ready to run like hell to my apartment and lock the door. I’m not so lucky because Logan gets out and follows me in.
“Okay…well, bye. I’ll see ya around.”
“Keep walking, Addy.”
I walk up the first flight of stairs, still hoping he goes away. “Fine, but you don’t really need to walk me to my door. I can handle it.” He doesn’t speak as we round another flight of stairs. I really need to go inside and write down everything that happened today so I don’t forget. Speaking of, I need my darn phone back. “Don’t you have things to do? Deal drugs? Shoot innocent girls and throw them off boats—schnikey!”
He grabs me and pushes me up against the wall. His large hand covers my mouth, his fury springing back to life. Maybe pointing out he’s a murderer wasn’t all that necessary. I stare back at him, hating to admit how undeniably sexy he is when he’s mad. Not that I would know what to do with a man like him. I’m still reading How to Swoon a Man: 101. I’m sure he’s the muse for the bestselling book The Expert Level Lover.
I accidentally snicker.
“What. The. Fuck is so funny?”
I labeled you as an expert lover. “Nothing. I remembered a joke from…the comics…you know, in the newspaper…yeah, I don’t even think people read those—”
I’m up and over his shoulder as he storms the rest of the way to my door. “Where are your keys?”
“Well, where the hell are your damn pockets?”
“Where all pockets are!”
“Jesus Christ,” he growls, flipping me upward. My feet smack onto the ground. “Get ’em.”
I huff, making it clear how ridiculous he is, and dig into my pocket for my keys. My keys…my… “Shoot!”
“What is it now?”
“I left them on my desk. My purse…it fell and—”
“You’re kidding me right now.”
“No, I’m not kidding you. If you care to remember, you just showed up at my work, uninvited, and practically dragged me out of there. Between your unwanted kiss and the manhandling, I guess I forgot to grab my damn keys!”
“Unwanted, huh?”
If there is any time I wish I was an expert liar, it’s right now.
“Yes.”
His laugh is so darn sexy. I have to rip my eyes away from his lips and stare at a crack in the wall to stop the burning in my cheeks from starting on fire.
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“Am not!” Still staring at the wall.
He lifts an eyebrow, and his chuckle is felt in all the special places on my body. “Look at me and tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss.” I’m doomed. If I look, I’m totally busted. Not only did I enjoy that kiss, I enjoyed the first one and the second one, and I’m secretly praying to enjoy a ton more. “You can’t do it, can you?”
Time to completely dodge his question. “You know, this is absurd. You should just leave.”
“No, admit it.”
“I will not.”
“Admit it, and I’ll leave.”
I hold my breath and turn to him. “It was okay at best. I wouldn’t even write in my diary about it.” Blasted! Why do I open my mouth? “For the record, I do not own a diary.”
Celebrity Dirt: A Fake Relationship Romantic Suspense Standalone Page 5
