by Sophia Gray
But it was only my brother.
“Logan!” I ran inside, dropping my bag by the door, and threw my arms around him. It had been a while since I’d seen him last, and I was willing to admit that after Nikolai’s little visit I was more than a little concerned about my brother.
Was he really in trouble?
He hugged me back, but winced and quickly pulled away. I frowned. Glancing down, I finally saw it, the thing that was off and wrong about all of this. And the thing that had made him wince. His arm was haphazardly wrapped with shreds of what looked like one of my nightshirts—I’d give him hell for that later—and seeping through the baby pink fabric was a deep, brownish red color.
Blood.
“Oh, my god!” I slapped my hand over my mouth as I stared at it. “What happened?” I asked, though the words came out muffled. I hadn’t moved my hand away.
He grimaced, but I thought it was less from the pain and more to hide something else. Something in his expression that he was worried I might see. He looked away from me and down at his arm, putting his opposite hand over the bandage. “Do you have something to help with this?”
On some level I acknowledged that he had not answered my question, but I avoided it. But this wasn’t just by brushing it off. Instead, he’d picked up on an equally important thing, one I couldn’t ignore: taking care of him.
“Yes, of course. I’ll grab it!”
I hurried out of the room to the bathroom, stepping around the door. Jerking open the mirror cabinet, I searched through everything I had stuffed in there—stupid, useless tampons—until I came across the hydrogen peroxide, some rubbing alcohol, and actual bandages as opposed to a ruined nightshirt. Then I rushed back out to find Logan sitting on one of the chairs at the counter, leaning heavily across the kitchen surface. He was fiddling with his bandage, unwrapping it a little, I thought.
Coming up beside him, I brushed his hand away and picked up where he left off. We worked in silence for the most part. The bandage was dirty and stained beyond recognition, but that wasn’t my concern. When I got to the actual wound, I found it was a hole, small but clearly enough to do quite a bit of damage. It looked like there was an exit hole, as well, which I thought was probably good, but I wasn’t a doctor.
And that was the point, definitely. “Logan, you need to go to the hospital,” I said as I began to dab first peroxide on it; it bubbled up with tiny white bubbles that looked like puss, though I knew it was air forcing things to the surface in order to clean the wound, then the rubbing alcohol.
“No hospitals,” he said immediately in response, and his answer settled uneasily around me.
Why no hospitals? What really happened? The only reason you didn’t go to a hospital was when you didn’t want to be found. Had there been any truth to Nikolai’s words when he’d shown up here not so long ago, unannounced and worried?
“Seriously, Logan, this isn’t a joke, it’s—”
“No. Hospitals.” His voice was lower than I’d ever heard it, and dangerous. Like he was some feral animal, cornered and hurt and willing to fight its way through me to get to the door. My brother had never sounded like that in his entire life and I wasn’t thrilled to hear him like that now.
Biting my lower lip, I fell silent and continued to clean the wound. Gunshot wound, my mind whispered to me, but I pushed it aside. If it really were from a gunshot, he was in a lot of trouble and there was a chance, a good chance, Nikolai had said something along the lines of the truth that day.
I wasn’t sure what I would do with that.
When I finished wrapping it up, his arm still looking awful, but at least it was better with fresh bandages and I felt more confident that it had been thoroughly cleaned, I returned my attention to my brother. “Why won’t you go to the hospital, Logan?” I asked him, my gaze leveled at him evenly, unwavering. “What happened?”
He turned away, gingerly patting at the bandages with his uninjured arm. He was trying to come up with something to tell me, I knew, because he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. When he’d come up with something plausible—and likely not one hundred percent the truth—he’d turn back to me and explain what he wanted me to know.
But when he looked back to me, I found myself angry with him. I didn’t want to hear his lies. I didn’t want to be misled by my brother, because he’d gotten himself into some kind of trouble and was still trying to lie his way out of it. So much of our childhood had been like that, and while I loved my brother dearly, I wasn’t in the mood to be lied to.
Nikolai’s words flashed through my head and I interrupted Logan before he had the chance to say anything that would be a boldfaced lie. “Is it true?”
Logan blinked at me in surprise. “What?”
“Is it true? Did you really…did you steal money? From some bad guys?” I tried to remember how Nikolai had put it specifically, but it was difficult because all I wanted to remember was our lovemaking, the passion that had erupted between us like fireworks or lava or something equally as devastating.
He failed in that job and then he stole a lot of money. That man wants his money back. The words slipped through me now, dangerous and foreboding, and now, I thought, laced with more truth than they had been before. Oh, what did my brother get himself into?
Logan looked away, staring up at a corner of the ceiling where the walls of my tiny, ridiculous apartment met and I knew he was lying, or about to lie to me. It hurt to know that was what he was going to do, that he’d do it easily, too, but I pushed that hurt aside. I needed to know just how much trouble he was in.
“Logan, don’t lie to me. You’re in trouble, I know that much. Just tell me.”
He seemed to debate it in his head for a while, before finally grimacing. He looked at me, not quite in the eye, but at least he was staring at my face. “Okay, I did steal something, some money, but it’s not what you think.”
I frowned. What I thought? How could he steal? Had he just disregarded everything our father had raised us to believe? For a blazing second, I was furious with him. Then I remembered I had done some things that went directly against everything I’d ever been taught. It calmed me enough to remember that it wasn’t right to judge my big brother for his mistakes, lest I take a hard look at my own and realize the things I’d done wrong.
And I’d done a lot wrong lately.
So, I took a steadying breath and nodded my head once. “Okay. Fine. Let’s start with who did this to you,” I tried, doing my best to stay calm. Nikolai said a dangerous man was after Logan. Had that dangerous man done this to him?
Logan heaved a sigh that sounded a lot like relief. Probably because I wasn’t yelling at him. Yet. “A tall, dark man wearing some kind of medallion. You know, gold and gaudy, but it went with that dark suit he was wearing, so what do I know? He pulled a gun at me right in the open and tried to kill me. Didn’t even care that I was in a bar with people there! I don’t know his name, but—”
“Nikolai,” the name came out in a whisper, and I didn’t think my brother caught it, because he kept talking, though I was having a hard time hearing. My blood was rushing cold behind my ears and I felt a little like passing out. Surely it couldn’t have been Nikolai, right? But then…he’d known about Logan.
“…lucky that no one got hurt. Anyway, you just need to lay low.” He’s focused on me again, staring me straight in the eye. “Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay? It might be dangerous. But I’ll get this cleared up and we’ll be fine. Just keep your head down and pretend like you don’t know anything.”
He let out a whoosh of air, looking a little relieved. He offered me a smile, oblivious to the turmoil racing through me. Awful. I felt awful. He stood then, testing his bandage and arm one last time, then he moved towards the door. “Remember,” he called back at me before he exited the door. “Keep your head down and don’t tell anyone I was here.” Then he was gone and I felt sick to my stomach.
This couldn’t be happening.
Chapter 16
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Nikolai
Officially, I was driving to the downtown art district for business alone. I needed to see if Madeline had any idea where her brother might be. She was not only the closest living relative geographically, but as his little sister, there was a good chance she would be more sympathetic to his plight than his father would be.
Unofficially, I needed to see her. My body pulsed and ached from the distance that was between us, a physical distance that was eating me up in ways I’d never had to deal with before. I’d never been so attached to a woman before, which was sort of the point. So maybe my official business was only an excuse.
Besides, I need to make sure Shawn isn’t there.
The thought was a little odd for me. I wasn’t the type to be jealous, necessarily, though I could certainly be possessive. And it was that possessiveness over Madeline that had me grinding my teeth along the way to her apartment at the thought that he might be there with here right now.
Still. She’d pretty willingly let me slide into her and make passionate love—no, wait, not love. I didn’t do love. Rather, she’d let me fuck her into oblivion. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would just allow any man between her legs, so I was confident that fiancé or no, this Shawn guy wasn’t what she really wanted.
And if I had to remind her of that little fact, well, that was business, too, wasn’t it?
I arrived at the apartment in a relatively short amount of time. Once again, I thought of how easy it was to get into the building. There was little concern as far as who would be coming and going. This time, it made me frown. Madeline was living here in this little shit hole of an apartment in an unsavory part of town. Sure, the artsy community gave me a little bit of comfort, as they generally weren’t the types to get involved in the heavy crime that was usually problematic in the lower income neighborhoods, but still. Drugs were likely running rampant in the area—artists were known for that—and god knew what else. At the very least the damn place could have some means of protecting its inhabitants from the wickedness of the outside world.
Something would have to be done, I decided.
I made my way quickly up the stairs to her floor, rounding the corner towards her door easily. When I got to the apartment, I took a moment to straighten myself out. The night had been a little rough on me, leaving me drawn and ragged I was sure. I didn’t want her to see me like that. Taking a steadying breath, I combed back my hair and projected the calm exterior I was famous for. I didn’t want to freak her out, but I did need to ask her about Logan. Now that he knew I was on his tail, there was a good chance he would seek out refuge somewhere. Somewhere he deemed safe, and given that his father was a good ways away and his mother was dead, I was willing to bet that his safe haven was Madeline. I couldn’t picture her turning him away—unfortunately—which meant he likely knew the exact same thing.
After I’d collected myself, I raised my hand to knock—but still I hesitated. Madeline had been…willing the last time I was here, but that didn’t necessarily mean she’d been happy to see me. And with my abrupt departure, she was unlikely to be in a better mood in regards to me. While I felt confident in my ability to smooth over that little romantic hiccup, I wasn’t so sure about bringing up Logan. He seemed to be a sore subject, though I sensed she must know at least in part that he was a screw up. Likely she was just in denial.
I’d need a plan in regards to my approach on the subject. I shot at your brother last night, intending to kill him, and the only reason I didn’t was because he rounded a corner in his truck before I could get a good shot in. Somehow, that didn’t seem like the wise approach, but I didn’t think straight up lying to her was a good move either. There was so much potential for that to come back and bite me in the ass.
So, I’d need a compromise. Namely, asking if she’d seen Logan, warning her that he was in serious trouble, and insisting on her denying him access if he did approach her—I didn’t want her to get dragged into this mess any more than she already had been. By letting him in, giving him refuge, she was bringing herself into it whether I liked it or not. It would put me in a bad place.
What if she went to the cops? What if she asked me to back off and I didn’t? Or worse, if I did?
I didn’t want to cause undo strain between us, but I knew walking away wasn’t an option. If I did, there would be another hit man to come in and take my place. One with far less scruples than I had. I wasn’t sure yet why it mattered, but there was a connection to her that I couldn’t deny, and it would be made all the more difficult if she hated me for killing her brother.
Finally, I knocked, bracing myself for how this was about to go.
It only took a moment for Madeline to answer. She didn’t seem as surprised as I’d anticipated when it was me on the other side of the door, making me think she had some inkling I would be back all along. That somehow made me feel good—right up until I caught the expression on her face.
Cold. Angry. Apprehensive.
She was still pissed then from the other night. From bringing up Logan? Or from fucking her into oblivion twice, only to leave before she awoke? It was too early to tell.
I stepped in and she didn’t stop me, but she didn’t close the door immediately behind me either. In fact, she seemed to debate the wisdom of it altogether, as though worried about cutting off her escape route or being alone in a room with me.
I frowned. When had that started? Most people didn’t start to fear me until they’d realized what it was I did or who I worked for. And I didn’t think she’d had any access to that sort of information. Not yet.
Although I had planned before even knocking to ask about Madeline’s brother, I found myself hesitant to do so. Something about her mood made me uneasy. I decided it was better to approach her about the other reason I was there: sex. I could be honest with myself; Logan was on the backburner. Yes, there was a possibility he might show up, but there was an equally good chance that he’d just hole up in some cheap, rat-infested motel until he felt like the whole thing had blown over. Because there was even a remote chance of that, right? What a moron he was turning out to be. When it came right down to it, I wasn’t really here because of Logan. If Madeline led me to him, great, but if she didn’t have the foggiest idea where her brother was, then I didn’t care a lick.
I wanted her writhing beneath me yet again and that was the real reason I was here, whatever else I tried to convince myself of.
Switching gears, I focused my heated gaze on her. Every time before, that gaze had turned her to jelly, sweeping through her like fire. I could see it in her eyes, in the way her body shivered when near me. Slowly, my eyes slipped down her small but perky and perfectly curved frame. I let my gaze linger on her full breasts, seeming to grow each time I caught a glimpse of them, eventually allowing my eyes to tear from them only to dip lower. They trailed down her thin stomach to the flare of her full hips and that warm, wet spot between her shapely thighs.
By the time my gaze returned to her face, I expected her to be panting with need, her eyes glassy with desire. But I was wrong. Her face was stony, her eyes clear as the day outside, a cool blue that was uncharacteristic from every time I’d seen her before.
I frowned. What was going on?
Stepping closer to her, I moved slowly, carefully as though approaching a skittish animal. She didn’t move away from me, though I saw her tense. Her arms folded across her chest, which did nothing to dispel my growing desire for her. Her chest always looked so plump when she did that, as though it might spill over her arms at any moment, heaving and bouncing.
My own thoughts caused my cock to twitch within my pants, beginning to grow hard as I thought of the things I would do to her today and maybe through the night, too.
When I was only inches from her and she had to lift her chin to look up at me, I reached for her. My fingertips just barely grazed the bare skin of her arm when she jerked away from me.
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. What was the
problem?
She turned away from me, sidestepping so our bodies weren’t so close and the heat couldn’t build between us as it always did. I turned to keep myself facing her, though I didn’t try to close the distance again. Was she still pissed from the other night? She hadn’t been reluctant then.
I gave her a moment to speak, to explain, to say something that would give me an indication of what was going on. But she said nothing. So, I tried again. Sliding up behind her this time, my eyes lingering on the full curve of her ass, I pressed myself against her, letting my hands linger on her hips and my member, which was mostly hard now, press against her full cheeks. For a full three seconds, it was glorious and I was sure she would melt.
But then she pulled away again, rounding on me even as she continued to put more space between us. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that,” she half growled at me. I was impressed she could even make her voice go that low.
