He pushes aside my panties, and spreads me open. He runs his fingers over me, teasing me before thrusting them inside. I tilt my head back. He runs his lips along my thigh, then up to my navel and then down again.
“You taste so good,” he says licking me. Another wave of warmth runs through me and this time, I’m certain that I’m going to fall down. He isn’t holding me up anymore, and my legs are too weak to do it for me. With what seems to be my last ounce of strength, I pull away from him and grab his large cock. It pulsates and throbs in my hand. I run my fingers over its every line and curve. His eyes roll to the back of his head. I pull him toward the bed. Another moment later, he’s inside of me. Neither of us can toy with each other anymore. My fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Avery,” he whispers over and over.
“Logan,” I moan into his ear.
Our hips move as one.
“I’m getting close,” I whisper.
“I love you,” he says. A moment later, my legs grow completely numb and my toes bury themselves into the bedspread. A warm, soothing sensation spreads through my body. A few thrusts later, Logan says my name a few more times and then collapses on top of me.
Chapter 23 - Logan
While I’m trying to catch my breath after one of the most intense orgasms of my life, my mind runs a mile a minute. Did I really just tell her that I loved her? I’ve never said those words in my life to anyone. Well, not anyone except my mom, dad and siblings. Definitely not to a girl. But Avery isn’t just a girl. She’s a girlfriend. Wow, even that word, girlfriend makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It sounds so official.
I get up and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“You okay?” Avery asks from the bedroom.
“Yeah, fine.”
I stare at myself in the mirror. Not really fine at all. She does not know this, definitely doesn’t even suspect it, but I’ve just crossed a threshold. Took a big step. Not one that I ever thought I would.
I wash my face, rubbing it hard with a towel. I look at myself in the mirror again. Everything about me looks the same. Even my tan is coming back. There’s the beginning of those nasty little crow’s feet around my eyes. There are the strong, broad shoulders that are perfectly balanced with the narrowness of my waist. I seem the same, but I don’t feel it. What is this feeling? And why does it make me feel like I’m suspended in weightlessness? As if I’m scuba diving in that middle section, far enough from the bottom of the ocean floor and too far away from the surface that I don’t see either the ground or the waves.
And then it hits me, perhaps this is what it’s like to actually care about someone? Maybe this is what it means to be in love?
I walk out of the bathroom. Avery is sitting on the bed, wrapped in a bed sheet. Her hair is all messed up, her makeup is a little smeared and I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful before. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and she’s holding something in her hand.
“Someone called you,” she says. I glance at her hand. That’s my other phone. Shit.
“I was going to get it for you, but when I searched through your jacket, I found two.” Avery takes out her other hand and shows me both of my phones.
“Why do you have two phones?” she asks.
I don’t know what to say. I freeze.
“Logan! Why do you have two phones?” she asks again, this time less patiently.
“I have to have another phone for work.”
“For work? What work? You don’t work.”
“Yes, I do,” I take the phone from her.
“What do you do?”
I stare at her, waiting for my mind to kick in. I’m trained in this. I know how to lie. Expertly. Just say something already, I say to myself. Anything.
“There are certain business opportunities that I’m investigating,” I say looking straight into her eyes. Most people are afraid of direct eye contact. Look right into her eyes and don’t blink, I remember what my training has taught me. That’s how most people determine if you’re telling the truth. “These companies have privacy concerns. So they gave me another phone to use in all of my communications.”
She nods.
“Okay,” she finally says.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask, changing my tone. I sit down next to her and put my arm around her. “It’s nothing, really.”
“No, I believe you,” she lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I was just really surprised. And then when I saw the phone, I freaked out a little.”
“I know,” I smile. “But it’s really nothing very interesting. They just tend to call me at various times of day and night. Not courteous like that.”
“And you’re thinking of doing business with them.”
“They have some very interesting ideas,” I say.
I brush her hair from her face and lean in to kiss her. At first, she doesn’t kiss me back, but then she reciprocates and I know that she believes me.
“Can I have my phones please?” I ask, pulling away.
She hands them to me.
It requires a password to open, so I know that she couldn’t see who called or read any of the text messages that Truman might have left. But if he called me so close to the mission, I know that it can’t be good.
I enter the passcode.
Where the fuck are you? Call me back ASAP.
Truman does not use language like that often, and I’ve never seen him text with this kind of urgency. Whatever it is, it’s not good.
“I have to make a call,” I say.
Truman starts talking almost as soon as I press send.
“Where the hell are you? Doesn’t matter. There has been a change of plans. Sanchez isn’t going to be on the boat. We just got word that he’s staying at the same resort as you. Room 117. First floor. He’s there alone. There’s a guard by the door, but we don’t think there’s anyone on the side facing the ocean. We’ll never get as good of a chance to get to him as we have now.”
“Got it.”
“I don’t think this needs saying, but you don’t need to wait until 2 a.m. Go now.”
“Okay.”
I hang up the phone, take a moment to collect my thoughts. Going now is a little bit of a problem. Avery is here, and she’s already suspicious, but there’s no other way around. Getting Sanchez here is much easier than on that boat, and there’s no one else around except his guards, which makes civilian causalities not much of a problem. I hate missions in which women and children are around the target. I don’t want to hurt or injure any innocent bystanders and make poor decisions as a result.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I walk into the room shaking my head, “but I have to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Avery asks.
“It’s work. There’s this emergency that I have to take care of.” I buckle my belt and put on my dress shirt.
I had another outfit lined up for the mission, but with Avery being here, I can’t very well dress in all black and look like a ninja. The suit I wore to the wedding will have to do. On the plus side, it might make me blend in easier afterwards, in case there’s a chase or something goes wrong.
“What are you talking about?” Avery gets up, wrapping herself in the robe. “You’re leaving now? Where are you going?”
“Not very far. Just to the business center. I have to do something. It won’t take long.”
I put on my jacket, skip the tie. I slip on the shoes.
“But why do you have to do it now?” she asks.
I walk back to her and take her into my arms.
“I’m really, really sorry. You don’t even know how sorry I am about this, but I really need to do this. I’m just going to be in the business center. I should be back in an hour or so. Get some sleep.”
Her eyes twinkle in the moonlight. I hate the disappointment that I see in them.
“I can’t sleep,” she shakes her head.
“Well, then watch some TV. Order some room service. I’ll be back so
on,” I press my lips onto hers. I feel her losing herself in the moment. I would to, if my mind wasn’t on the mission. Ideally, this should look like an accident rather than an assassination. Assassinations always bring about the worst in rebels. They make the assassinated leader a martyr. A legend. People start imagining that he was better than he was. We can’t have that. Sanchez is an old man. He’s also a very unhealthy man. Someone who could easily have a heart attack and die. The best way to handle this is sneaking into his room while he is sleeping and suffocating him with his pillow. That would be ideal, but might not be possible. I have to be prepared.
I pull away from Avery.
“Are you okay?” I ask. She nods.
I let go of her and go to the closet. I feel her watching me as I search my suitcase for the hidden compartment with my weapon. Luckily, all the lights in the room are off, and I’m able to slip the gun in the waist of my pants and the silencer into my pocket of my jacket without her noticing.
I walk back to Avery to give her one last kiss before I go. This time I don’t embrace her; I don’t want her to feel anything around my waist. Instead, I keep her at arm’s length.
“Do you remember what I said when we were making love?” I ask. She looks at me.
“What?” she asks. I can tell that she isn’t happy. Her arms are crossed at her chest and her lips are pursed.
“I love you.”
She looks up at me as if she doesn’t believe me.
“You don’t have to say anything back. I just want you to know how I feel. I love you Avery, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.”
Suddenly, a warm, inviting smile sweeps over her face. I give her one last kiss and disappear.
Chapter 24 - Avery
I don’t know how I feel about Logan Davenport at this very moment. He has just told me that he loves me, and I could feel his love in the kiss and the way he held me. And the way he made love to me. But then he left. Off to somewhere mysterious in the middle of the night. After receiving a mysterious call from his other phone. What. The. Fuck?
Who the hell conducts business so late at night? What kind of business is this that requires him to have another phone? No, all of his perfect explanations are just that. Too perfect. I don’t buy them. They’re bullshit. But what else could it be?
I change out of the bathrobe and into my yoga pants and light t-shirt. Before I really know what I’m doing, I grab the key to the room and follow him out.
A million thoughts rush through my head. He isn’t telling me the truth. And I want to – have to – find out what is really going on. If he’s having an affair, then I need to know that so I can dump his sorry ass.
I walk passed the business center. I peek in through the little window on the door. It’s completely empty.
Shit, I lean back against the wall. He’s lying. Of course, he is. You know this already. So why are you so surprised?
Because a huge part of me, all of me, in fact, wants to believe him. Why can’t he just be this wonderful guy who’s in love with me? Why does he have to be a liar?
I take a deep breath. Suddenly, another thought enters my mind. What if he’s not having an affair on me? What if I’m the affair? What if he’s married and I’m the other woman?
No, he isn’t married. Dolly would never set us up if he were married. Though, he could have a girlfriend, and he could be cheating on her with me. I mean, why else would he have another phone? And have it password protected?
I have to find him. But how? I have to see if he left the resort at least. Go to the parking lot and see if the car is there.
I head outside. The car we used earlier is there. But then again, he could’ve rented another car. Or maybe this isn’t our car at all. We were in it for like a second and haven’t used it since arriving at the resort.
I’m at a loss as to what to do, so I head around the building and toward the water. I don’t want to walk past the business center again and not see him. I need time to reflect on this, and out by the water is probably the best spot.
I welcome the ocean breeze in my face, allowing it to cool off my scorching body. It’s hot and humid, even at night, but my blood is boiling for other reasons.
I make my way past our suite and then another and another. By the time I reach the last suite, I’m pretty certain of the fact that Logan is cheating on me. It’s hard to comprehend all of the conflicting emotions that I’m experiencing at the moment. I hate him. I’m angry with him. I want to punch him. And yet, I want him. I know that what we shared less than an hour ago wasn’t a lie. It felt real. And, when he told me that he loved me…that couldn’t be a lie as well? Why would he go out of his way and say that? I didn’t bring it up. This is only our third date. There’s no pressure on him at all. Why would he say that to me, if he didn’t mean it? And why would he say it to me if he were cheating on me?
I trip on a piece of driftwood and fall down, head first into the sand. Shit. When I look around to get my bearings, I see the shadow of a man who looks a lot like Logan. Carefully, I get back on my feet. My ankle hurts a little, but it’s not really injured. I limp toward the closest palm tree and hide in its shadow. From there, I squint to get a better view.
Yes, it’s Logan. I’m certain. I don’t see his face, but his deliberate way of walking is very familiar. I look around the patio and inside the suite. This isn’t our place. What is he doing here?
The lights inside the suite are off, and the bed is illuminated only by the light of the television screen. As my eyes adjust a little more, I make out a large fat figure, probably a man, lying in bed. Logan walks through the open patio doors and toward the bed.
What the hell is he doing? I wonder. I need to get a better look. Quietly, I tiptoe toward a closer palm tree and again hide behind it.
Logan grabs a pillow off the sofa at the foot of the bed and takes it between his hands. He walks up to the man and puts it over his face.
What!?
I peer into the darkness just to make sure that I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. The man’s legs and arms flail around as he struggles for life. But Logan doesn’t give in. He leans over him more and presses the pillow harder into him.
I need to yell out. Scream. But I’m frozen in time and space. I grasp onto the palm tree with all of my might, and I can’t let go.
And then it just comes out. This blood-curling scream. It sounds so primal.
“Aghhh!” I scream at top of my lungs. It’s so loud that when I do stop, my ears continue to buzz.
Logan stops and stares in my direction. Suddenly, the front door to the suite opens. Logan lets go of the pillow and pulls out a gun. He aims and shoots. It hardly makes a sound, but the man drops to the floor. He points the gun at the man he was suffocating with the pillow and shoots him as well.
He turns to head back toward me, but three more men come in through the front door. That’s as much as I can handle. My body takes off before my mind even realizes what it is doing. I run back to the suite as fast as my legs can carry me. I fall a couple of times, landing with my legs and knees in the sand, get up and continue running. When I finally reach the suite, I lock all doors and windows and grab my suitcase. I don’t dare to turn on the lights out of fear of being found. I throw every article of clothing that I see into it and zip it up as quickly as I can. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have a plan. All I know is that I can’t stay here.
Downstairs, I don’t bother to wait for the cab. Instead, I ask the concierge to drive me two hours to the airport and pay him extra so that he doesn’t tell anyone where he took me or that he saw me at all. At first, he’s reluctant to take my $700, but I convince him that he has to. He promises to not tell anyone about my whereabouts and I believe him.
As I wait at the empty Cancun airport, I pace nervously near the gate. Please, let me get on this plane. Please, please, please. When I’m finally on the plane and the gate closes, I take a deep breath. I’m on my way home. But as the plane
takes off, I realize that I’m not anywhere close to being safe. I just saw Logan murder someone. And not just someone, two people. He killed two men as if it was no big deal. And who knows what the hell happened with the other three who came in just as I left. Something tells me that either he is dead or they are all dead.
My hands go numb. My feet feel incredibly cold. I feel my forehead and there are sprinkles of cold sweat all along my brow-line. Who the hell is Logan? A serial killer? A murderer? Well, he is definitely that.
Oh my God. Suddenly, it occurs to me, he knows where I live! And he knows where I work! What am I going to do when I get home? I don’t just live in an apartment. I can’t just pick up and leave. What about my customers? How am I going to make a living? One thing’s for sure, I can’t go back home. He’ll find me there for sure.
My worries about my ex, Cal, all of a sudden seem like a walk in the park. Yes, he tried to choke me, but Logan is a whole other deal. He’s a murderer. And he knows that I’ve seen him kill someone. What the hell is he going to do to me to make sure that I don’t tell anyone? There’s probably nothing that he wouldn’t do.
Chapter 25 - Avery
After getting back from Tulum, I didn’t know where else to go, so I spent the week at Cynthia’s. Of course, I had to tell her something. I couldn’t just invite myself over without so much as an explanation, but I don’t tell her anything important. All I say is that we had a fight and I need some time away from my place. I don’t think she fully believes me, but it’s as good of an explanation as she going to get. I don’t want to involve her. I’ve seen something that I had no business witnessing, and I have no idea what the fallout will be. What happens if you are a witness to a murder? Will the murderer come after you?
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Cynthia asks me coming home from work one day. I haven’t been in the shop for five days. I took some of the days off earlier for the trip, but now I’m just avoiding it. At first, I thought that I needed time to get together a plan. But now, I’m not so sure. The more days that pass, the less of a plan I’m able to come up with.
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 59
