by Sierra Rose
He stared at her in disbelief, backing slowly away from the door.
“What?! No, I’m not—”
“Because you know me.” She stalked forward just as slowly, running her hands up and down her silky skin. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
Logan tripped backwards over one of her shoes, taking his eyes off her for one second, only to find himself in some sort of sexual chokehold the next. “Lady—no!” he gasped, trying to unwind her arms as they laced around his neck. “I’m not playing hard—” He cut off as she pressed her lips to the base of his jaw. “Hard to get—” Another kiss. “Nothing’s hard, okay?!”
She giggled mischievously as he ran out of floor and backed into the far corner. A place with no escape. The pictures tilted precariously on the wall behind him, as she ran her fingers slowly up his chest. “Well I can help you with that too, baby.” Keeping eye contact the entire time, she sank slowly down to her knees. “Just lean back and relax—”
“HEY!”
He tumbled over her, gripping onto the walls for balance and trying to touch as little of her skin as possible. It wasn’t easy. Considering he was in a corner. Considering she was literally kneeling down in front of him. As he tried to pivot around, a lock of her hair got caught in the zipper of his pants (which she’d been trying to pull down) and the escape came to an abrupt halt.
“Wait, wait, wait!” she cried, stumbling after him. “My hair!”
Chapter 12
He glanced down in dismay, then let out an actual groan when he saw the problem. Just what his day needed. After tricking a man into buying a boat, he was going to get caught—pants around his ankles—by this crazy woman’s husband. With his luck, he was even bigger than Sam.
“Just hold still,” he commanded, in what he hoped was a rational-sounding voice. “I can get it if you just stop moving—”
For once, she did as she was told. Freezing perfectly still, with her lips just inches away from his crouch, as he worked as quickly as he could at unwinding her long hair. It wasn’t the simplest task. And it didn’t help that the entire time he was trying, she was batting her long lashes—running her tongue along the edge of her lips. After a few minutes of working, it soon became clear what Logan was going to have to do. And he really, really didn’t want to do it.
“I have to just pull the zipper down,” he said cautiously, making the huge mistake of glancing down into her eyes. “But I’m serious—I’m not trying to play hard to get. I know that we...we have a secret signal and everything. But that’s not happening today, alright? I’m sorry.”
He said each word very carefully—willing her to understand, while suddenly hoping that she wouldn’t be offended at the same time. It was clear that she and Dylan had some kind of arrangement. He didn’t want to make her feel like a monster for simply playing their game.
She kept a strict poker face. It was impossible to know what she was thinking. But when he placed his hand on the zipper, she nodded with a little grin and watched shamelessly as he pulled the thing down.
A burning flush swept over him, as she stared from just inches away. It hitched his breath as she reached out a manicured hand. It stopped his heart when she leaned in closer.
Then she unlooped her hair, and pulled away with a smile.
“Some other time then?”
He blinked in surprise, completely thrown by her sudden change in demeanor. The clothes went back on, she lifted to her feet, and by the time he registered the question, she was already back in the kitchen—cleaning up the bottle he’d dropped by mistake.
“Uh...yeah. Another time.”
All at once, he felt embarrassed. Incredibly embarrassed. And incredibly guilty to have rejected this woman by not understanding the rules of her secret game.
“Here,” he knelt down beside her, still hyper aware of the way her breasts were leaning casually against his arm, “let me help you clean that—”
“No sugar—you’ve actually got to go.” She cocked her head towards the back door with a smile. “I think Mitch just got home on his lunch break.”
Logan bowed his head with a smile, relieved they could at least joke about it. Then he lifted his eyes only to realize that she wasn’t joking at all. A look of sheer terror washed across his face, and he turned to the door just in time to see someone rattling the handle.
“Oh shit!”
He scrambled backwards across the kitchen floor, keeping low and out of sight. The door opened, and a second later, he heard heavy footsteps walking across the floor.
“Mandy?”
Mandy. So the neighborhood succubus had a name too.
Mandy threw Logan a quick wink, before cocking her head once again to the backyard.
“See ya,” she whispered. Then she straightened up and walked out into the living room with a smile. “Hi, honey! Want to help me unload the car?”
Careful, man. That doesn’t mean what you think it does.
With a surge of panic-fueled adrenaline, Logan darted to the sliding glass door and yanked it open, slipping silently into the yard. He sprinted across the grass a second later, and surprised himself by swinging his body effortlessly over the high fence. His feet came down in a narrow side yard between the two houses, and he took a second to catch his breath, before straightening his shirt and walking calmly out to his own front porch.
“Hey, Dylan!”
His spine stiffened, and he turned to see a man he could only assume was Mitch waving cheerfully from the next house over. Mandy was smiling by his side.
“Hey!” He forced a smile, and gestured awkwardly to his door. “I’m just...going inside.”
Mitch flashed him a curious grin, probably jumping to the same drunken assessment as Sam. “Cool, man. Have fun with that.”
“...I will.”
A second later, Logan was inside. His hands were trembling when he shoved the key into the lock, and they were somehow trembling even harder when he pushed the door shut again. It was only then that he realized his pants were still completely unzipped, and that same burst of belated adrenaline sent him stumbling away from the entryway into the living room.
For a man who never missed a single detail, Logan hardly noticed a thing as he flopped down onto the nearest sofa and shut his eyes. He felt like he’d been running for hours. First away from Sam, then away from Mandy. What the hell had he and Dylan been thinking?! There was no way this was ever going to work. He hadn’t even made it through the first day, and already things were falling apart at the seams. There was no telling what might happen next—
A savage growl ripped suddenly through the air, freezing Logan in place. First, he opened one eye. Then another. Only to find himself face to face with the scariest dog he’d ever seen.
...oh fuck.
All he could see was teeth. That was it—just teeth. It was hard to tell anything more than that, considering he was lying helplessly on his back, just inches away from its gaping mouth. To be frank, it was hard to tell much of anything at all with that frightful growl rumbling in his ears.
“Hey, buddy.” He sat up slowly, speaking in a voice much higher than his own. “It’s okay—I’m not breaking in. Your friend gave me a key, you see?”
He held up the house key, but dropped it immediately as the dog’s teeth clipped shut just inches away from his hand. A silent scream lodged in his throat and he leapt to his feet only to realize that he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary dog. He was dealing with a dog who’d swallowed a bottle of magical growth serum as a puppy.
“What...are you?”
The thing came up to his chest—sitting. He shuddered to think what would happen if it stood up on two feet. The elongated snout and floppy ears seemed to indicate some kind of Great Dane, but the wicked light shining in its eyes was far more telling. This thing had been mixed with demon blood. Logan was sure of it.
Spartacus. Dylan’s annoyingly chipper voice echoed suddenly through his head. He’s a little angel. You’ll hardly even no
tice he’s there.”
Logan backed slowly towards the front door, keeping his eyes on the dog the whole time.
‘Little angel,’ huh? Remind me to give Dylan a ‘little beating’ the next time we meet.
It was the stare down of a century. Man versus beast. And to anyone keeping score at home, the beast was most certainly winning.
“It’s okay, buddy—it’s okay. Just calm down.” One step after another. He was almost to the front door, at which point he’d decided to catch a cab to the airport and get on the next flight back to Florida. “That’s a good boy, Spartacus. That’s a good boy.”
The dog paced deliberately forward, growling all the while. Here was a man who looked like his owner, but wasn’t all at the same time. It wasn’t to be trusted. It was to be eaten instead.
“I’m just gonna go, then you can have the whole house, okay?” Logan reached behind him towards the handle, cursing the day he’d discovered he had a twin. “No harm, no foul. You’re just going to sit right there, while I—”
“THAT’S HIM!”
A swinging fist came out of nowhere, catching Logan right in the eye. The world around him tilted and spun, as he fell to his knees—blinking back a stream of blood.
The last thing he remembered was a streak of fur, followed by a piercing shout, followed by a muffled profanity as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen drifted into view.
“Are you okay?” she seemed to say.
He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t even tell if he was awake or dreaming.
“You’re pretty.”
Oh god—did I just say that out loud?
Then the whole world went black.
Chapter 13
“For fuck’s sake, Bill—he’s had enough!”
Logan woke up to a sharp kick in the ribs. A piercing pain shot through his entire body, radiating out from his chest, as he sucked in an involuntary gasp of air. Slowly, the world around him lightened. Slowly, he was able to make sense of what he was seeing.
Or he would have...if what he was seeing made a lick of sense.
A burly man was standing on one side of the room—chest heaving like a rogue water buffalo who’d escaped from his cage. His beady eyes were locked and dilated, and his knuckles were red with blood. On the other side of the room, stood that same beautiful girl. Logan half-thought he’d dreamed her. Her face was pale and drawn with panic, and she kept clenching her hands into delicate little fists—like she was going to single handedly stop whatever nonsense was going on. In between the two, was Spartacus—the world’s biggest dog. Still growling. Still as disgruntled as ever. Logan was lying on the ground at his feet.
“There—see?” the man scoffed at the woman’s concern. “He’s coming around.”
Without a second’s pause, the woman darted forward. Sliding to her knees at Logan’s side, like a baseball star trying to make it home. “Oh my gosh—are you okay?”
Was he okay? It was an interesting question.
His vision was blurry. His head was killing him. And judging from the ache in the center of his chest, he had a sneaking suspicion that the giant dog had been sitting right on his ribcage.
“...I need to get back to Florida.”
The words took all the rest of his strength with them, and he slumped back onto the floor, praying to the gods of karma that Dylan was having as bad a time as he was himself.
“Florida?” The woman couldn’t decide whether it was a legitimate statement, or clear evidence of a concussion. She dismissed it either way. “Well I don’t know about all that, but my name’s Lacy Larson, and this is Bill Heam. I believe you know his wife.”
His wife?
Logan blinked in disorientation for a moment, before the words hit home.
...Dylan, what have you done?
He pushed himself to a delicate sitting position, keeping one eye on the murderous dog sitting behind him, and another on the murderous man eyeing him from across the room. The room tilted and swayed before him, and he threw out an automatic arm for balance.
“His wife?” Maybe it was just best to play stupid—even though there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his brother was to blame. “I don’t think so.”
The automatic concern in Lacy’s eyes cooled, as she reached into her purse and pulled out a manila envelope—sliding a stack of glossy photographs into her hand. “Sorry lover boy, but that’s not going to cut it.” She thrust the stack into his hand. “I was here. I saw you myself.”
Still trying to recover his senses, Logan glanced down at the first one—only to have his stomach rebel at the very sight. It was Dylan, alright. Lying on top of the kitchen counter with a well-endowed brunette. There was very little doubt as to what they were doing—given their specific pose—and the entire thing was made ten times worse by the giant grin on Dylan’s face.
“That’s...uh...” Simply denying it wouldn’t work, so Logan tried to take a different approach. Granted, it was one that left a lot to be desired. “That’s a great shot. What kind of lens are you using—”
A punch to the face left him speechless once again. Another knocked him to the floor.
“Bill!” Lacy shrieked, catching his head before it could smash into the ground. “I told you—that’s enough! Don’t make me stop you myself!”
It was a ridiculous threat, considering the woman in question. It might have been the mild concussion, but to Logan, she looked just like a living, breathing doll. Silky, sandy blonde hair. Painted lips. Rosy cheeks. Slender frame. All that paired with the kind of delicate bone structure that made any threat sound like the most laughable kind of joke.
And yet...there was something about the way she carried herself that made Logan think twice. He didn’t doubt her. He didn’t think this man doubted her either.
“He’s fucking my wife!” Bill shouted back, towering over Logan in a blind rage—his fists clenched tightly by his side. “What do you expect me to—”
“Stop this now! Your wife told me you hunted Dylan down. I’m lucky I got here when I did.”
“Please leave,” Logan mumbled in a daze. He extracted himself from the woman’s lap and pushed shakily to his feet. “Or better yet...why don’t you two talk? And I’ll call a cab—”
“Whoa there!” Lacy steadied him as he swayed dizzily to the side, wrapping her arm around his waist despite the malevolent glare on her face. “You don’t look so well.”
The husband stared at me. “You’re not going anywhere. You see, Lacy can answer the basics for me. The where, the how, the who—those are the things her company is contracted to find out. But she can’t tell him why. Only you can do that.”
This has to be some kind of nightmare. Yes—that’s what it is. A vengeful husband, an ethereal woman, and a demonic dog. Just your classic Cleveland nightmare.
“I don’t...” Logan tried to take a step on his own, reaching into his pocket only to realize that he’d left his cellphone somewhere in his bag. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry, okay? I really am incredibly sorry—”
“Sorry?!” Bill grabbed him by the collar, lifting him onto his toes. “You’re sorry for having an affair with my wife?! You think that’s going to cut it?!”
Logan braced for impact.
“...probably not.”
There was another punch, but this time, Logan was ready. Five years of kickboxing snapped into place, and his arms shot up in a split second—blocking his face. A second after that, the man released him—dodging a punch himself as Logan launched a counter-attack.
“But I didn’t know she was your wife.” He was a little steadier now. The lies came more easily. “I swear it—she never told me she was married. I thought she was single.”
Knowing Dylan, that probably wasn’t true. But there was no way Logan was going to take a beating for something that he didn’t do.
Bill paused his rampage, and for a split second, even Lacy looked unsure. Fortunately, a split second was all Logan needed to collect himself. In a
flash, the dazed confusion went right out the window. Replaced instead with the stone-cold confidence of Miami’s youngest billionaire.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” he said again, his voice taking on that ringing authority he’d been honing over the years, “but I didn’t know. I would never have done it if I knew. I swear.”
It wasn’t much to go on. Of course, the man caught cheating would automatically deny the fact that he’d been in the wrong. So instead of Logan’s words, perhaps it was that hard right hook that convinced Bill to keep his distance.
“You really didn’t know?” he breathed, his chest heaving up and down.
Logan looked him square in the face. “No, I didn’t.” His eyes flickered back to the photo as he discreetly tried to make out the names scribbled underneath. “But I can tell you, there’s no way that Melanie—”
“Angie,” Lacy corrected sharply. “Her name is Angie.”
Logan glanced again at the photo—he had only been able to see the very end of the name.
“Of course, Angie.” He cleared his throat nervously and started again. “Bill, there’s no way that Angie—”
“YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER NAME?!”
That was the final straw for Bill. With a wild cry, he launched himself across the room, tackling Logan around the waist before the two of them crashed upon the floor. Lacy let out a panicked shriek as they started pummeling each other, before whipping out her cell phone.
“Bill—let him go!” she cried, waving it threateningly in the air. “Dylan—stop it!” When the two of them ignored her, focused only on killing each other, she launched a final threat. “If the two of you don’t cut it out immediately, then I’m calling the cops!”
Still nothing. Her fingers blurred over the buttons.
“Yes, operator? I’m at 241 Prescott Street and there are two men beating each other to—”
“How the fuck could you not even remember her name?!” Bill gasped, rolling on top of Logan as he began pummeling his face. “You two were together for months!”
