by Zoe Blake
“Not clever, stupid. That sounds more like Chad.”
Logan pulled his bowie knife from inside his biker boot.
Chloe lowered her eyes as she instinctively reached for the metal heart charm. She still hadn’t come to terms with the events of the night before, and the knife was a startling reminder.
Using the knife, he carefully cut into the thick stuffing of the doll’s body. Tearing open the flaps, there, tucked deep inside, was the shiny glint of black plastic. The flash drive.
“You found it!” she exclaimed.
“We found it.”
“My computer is upstairs in my workshop. Should we plug it in and see if it has the bank accounts?”
“No. This is it. There may be some kind of trace or virus protecting it. Best to just give it to my client and let them deal with the consequences,” responded Logan as he dropped the flash drive into his jean pocket as if it were a tin of mints and not the key to fifteen million dollars.
Chloe was stunned. He really didn’t give a damn about the money. He had told her that when they'd first met, but she hadn’t believed him, hadn’t trusted his response.
“You really don’t care? This really is just a job to you.”
“It was just a job. It became something more…because of you…not because of this blood money. Trust me, baby. You don’t want the karma associated with shit like this. It brings bad men like me into your life.” He tugged affectionately on one of her curls.
Chloe giggled despite the seriousness of the situation. Pointing to him, she teased, “You said a bad word…Daddy.”
She laughed as he chased her back into the cabin.
Chapter Ten
Logan
“Are you going to leave now that you have the drive?”
He looked down at Chloe. Her cheeks were pink. Her lips bright red and swollen. Disheveled locks framed her face. They both lay sprawled amidst the rumpled covers and sheets of the bed.
“We are leaving tonight as soon as it gets dark.”
“I thought once you had the drive…”
“You’re not out of danger yet, babygirl. That gang has already figured out Chad double-crossed them the moment he cleared those prison grounds. They are probably already on their way up here. We need to clear out. I’ll get you to safety then make the exchange with my client. As soon as the gang learns you no longer have the drive, they will leave you alone.”
“Won’t they still try to come after me…for revenge or something? That is what they do in the movies.”
He chuckled as he kissed the top of her head. “Unlikely. Killing a young white woman would be bad for business and bring too much attention. Not that they wouldn’t hesitate to do so if they thought you were still in possession of the drive,” he corrected.
“How do we let them know? It’s not like I can email them.”
“Let’s just say I have a few connections. I’ll get the word to them in no uncertain terms.”
“Won’t they go after your client next?”
Logan smiled. “That’s my client’s problem.”
To lighten the mood, he said, “Besides, we have to leave or we will starve. There is literally no more food in this cabin.”
She gave him a playful swat on the arm, her hand resting on his queen of hearts tattoo.
“Only pack what you need.”
“But I need all my tools and supplies,” she complained, as she started stacking tools and jewelry molds on the workbench in her studio above the garage.
Logan reached out to still her hands.
Cupping her by the shoulders, he said, “Baby, we came up here because you said you needed something from the safe, not to pack up your whole damn life. I am trying to save you from a psychotic gang you know.”
Her lower lip protruded in an adorable pout.
“I am packing up the safe. There are lots of precious stones and metals in there. Not to mention those stupid diamonds. I don’t see why I couldn’t also take a few tools and supplies. I have an order to fill. I still have to make a living.”
Logan threw up his hands in defeat. Now was not the time to tell Chloe her life had changed the moment that piece of shit ex-boyfriend of hers implicated her in a theft from a powerful Columbian gang. The likelihood of her returning to her jewelry business was slim at best. He would save that revelation for later, when he had her safe.
He placed a single large box in the center of the room. “You may fill this box…and only this box…with anything you want from here.”
Chloe gave him a peck on the cheek. “You come off as all mean and dangerous, but you can really be a softy you know?”
He gave her a swat on the ass as he playfully growled at her.
“I will be back.”
“Where are you going?” There was a hint of anxiety in her voice. Logan smiled. He liked that she had gotten so used to his presence it concerned her when he left. It felt good to have someone give a damn about him. It had been too long.
“I need to head into the woods and grab the coordinates for Chad’s grave. I wasn’t able to do it with any accuracy last night in the dark and the rain.”
The mention of Chad’s body sobered the moment.
Chloe shuffled and rearranged the metal molds on her workbench. “Do you think I am an evil person? Not for killing him; I truly believe it was in my own self-defense. There is not a doubt in my mind he would have killed me first, but for not…not caring more?”
Logan wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her close. Back to front. He nuzzled her neck. “You care. Trust me, baby. You are not so far gone to the dark side yet that you could kill without emotion or guilt. The emotional reaction will come later. Once the danger has passed and you have time to really think on it, but don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll get you through it.”
“I supposed you’ve killed countless men?” she asked hesitantly as she stroked his hand which rested protectively over her middle.
“Yes, but they were all bad,” he said off-handedly. Turning her around, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and headed down the stairs.
Chloe’s scream pierced the silence of the woods.
Logan bolted, racing under branches and over fallen logs.
Finally, the cabin was in view.
Another scream.
Fuck!
He vaulted over the wooden fence marking the start of her uncle’s property. Leaning his back against the side of the cabin, he slowed his breathing and focused. He wouldn’t be any good to Chloe if he ran into the situation half-cocked.
Sliding along the wall, he could hear voices as he neared the front clearing. There were more than one, possibly four men. Hispanic accents.
“Shut the bitch up. You want to alert that asshole?”
“Did you see the size of that fucker?”
“What, you scared, Julio?”
“Fuck you. I’m not scared of anyone. I’m just saying he’s a big fucking dude.”
“That big fucking dude is going to kill you for touching me.”
The last was from his girl. Feisty and full of fire as always. Damned he loved the spitfire in her. He would even forgive her cursing…this time.
“Shut up, puta.”
There was the sickening sound of skin on skin contact.
He had heard enough. Logan strolled into view.
All conversation stopped. All eyes were on him.
One man stepped forward, puffing his chest in a fool’s attempt to look important and authoritative. It didn’t work.
“Stop where you are, we are US Marshals taking this woman into custody for harboring a fugitive.” The man’s tone was formal and no nonsense. The perfect mimic of a government official…from a Hollywood movie.
Logan wasn’t buying it. He assessed the scene.
The three men were also dressed rather comically as S.W.A.T. commandos, apparently falling for the complete Hollywood package of what US Marshals wear. Even the badges on their chests were wrong. They had a four-point star p
inned to their shirts, not the traditional six-point star of the Marshal service.
The final tell? Their hardware. They were each carrying FN Five-seveN pistols, not the standard government issued Glock. The gun was nicknamed the “cop-killer” because its ammunition could puncture bulletproof vests and even lightly armored cars. It was a favorite among the Mexican cartels.
A Mexican cartel? Jesus Christ. This whole thing was becoming a real cluster fuck.
He couldn’t wait to get back in front of his client. He would definitely have a few choice words regarding the briefing he’d received about this job. Well, at least he would try to contain his remarks to just words.
It looked like the message had finally gotten out that the Columbians had a rogue member. Now the Mexicans had arrived to claim Chloe and the flash drive. It didn’t make sense why the Mexicans were getting involved in this mess; the Colombians were their cocaine suppliers. Still Logan wouldn’t put it past some up-start Mexican cartel to try to make a name for themselves by retrieving the flash drive just to fuck with the Colombians.
So basically the Mexicans and the Columbians were about to get into a petty pissing match over a measly fifteen million, and his Chloe was caught in between. If that fucking piece of shit Chad wasn’t already dead he would kill him himself, thought Logan, and not for the first time.
Holding his hands high in the air, Logan slowly approached the armed men.
Chloe’s arms were pulled back behind her by one of the men. The other two eyed him anxiously, guns drawn.
Heedless of their threat, he boldly walked straight up to Chloe. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek, lightly touching the small bit of blood from a cut on her cheekbone.
His clever girl deliberately shifted her eyes to the man with the bleached hair before looking back at him. That was the man who’d hit her. Logan couldn’t wait to break both his arms.
“Back away from the prisoner,” said the first man, the one with KILL tattooed across his right knuckles.
“Do you know who I am?” asked Logan in a conversational tone as his narrowed gaze fell on each man individually.
The third man, his mouth filled with gold-capped teeth, answered, dropping the pretense of their disguise. “Yeah. We know. Our boss doesn’t want any trouble. We’re just here to take the girl and the drive. This doesn’t involve you anymore.”
Logan chuckled as he slowly cracked his knuckles, one by one. “Oh, this won’t be any trouble at all. I’m going to kill each one of you and then continue on with the job.”
The three men exchanged worried glances.
Logan had a fierce reputation on both sides; legal and not-so-legal. He was certain that if fifteen million wasn’t at stake, this particular gang would not have knowingly waded in on his territory. Whatever Mexican gang or cartel this was, they had balls; he would give them that.
“In case you can’t count bro, there’s three of us and only one of you, and I don’t see any gun,” said the bleached blond as he pointed his Five-seveN at Logan.
Logan nodded his agreement. “Funny thing about guns. It gives assholes a false sense of their own abilities.”
Logan’s hand struck out, grabbing the closest man’s gun as he planted his right foot to the side, and pulled with all his weight. The gang member with the tattooed knuckles lurched forward. As he tumbled to the ground from tripping over Logan’s foot, Logan maintained his grip on the gun. Holding the man’s arm outstretched, he stepped on the elbow joint, breaking it. The man screamed in agony. Logan kicked him in the jaw, his heavy biker boots striking the surprisingly fragile bone and breaking it as well, knocking the man unconscious.
Picking up a large rock near the edge of the driveway, Logan turned to bleach blond. “Your turn,” he said ominously. His eyes narrowed their focus on the gang member who’d hit Chloe. As the man raised his gun, Logan hefted the large rock at his head, striking him in the temple. The man staggered back; Logan grabbed the gun with his left hand and the man’s wrist with his right. He twisted both hands clockwise, breaking the man’s wrist. As beach blond reached for his broken wrist, Logan grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it painfully behind his back until he heard the bone snap. The man fell to his knees in agony.
Logan retrieved the man’s gun and turned it on him. “Your co-workers here? I’ll let live. You? You touched my woman.”
“Please,” the man simpered as his broken arms hung limply.
Without pause, ignoring his pathetic pleas, Logan pulled the trigger…just to the right of the kneeling man, into the dirt.
A dark stain spread across the front of the man’s pants a moment before he collapsed in a heap. Fainting from fear or pain, probably both. Logan smirked, that should send enough of a message.
He turned in time to see Chloe attack her assailant. The man had her around the throat. First she stepped on his foot. When he released his grip, she bent in half. Swiveling her torso, she viciously elbowed the man in each kidney. The moment he was distracted from the pain, she turned in his arms. Resting her hands on the man’s shoulders for leverage, she drew up her knee and nailed him square in the groin. The man howled in pain as he doubled over, clutching his middle, but Logan’s feisty little fighter wasn’t done with the Mexican gang member yet. Grabbing the bent over man by the hair on the back of his head, she brought her knee up a second time, breaking his nose. The man fell to the ground, beaten.
“Damn, babygirl. You unmanned him,” said Logan with pride.
Chloe limped toward Logan. Rubbing her lower leg, she complained, “Before the bleached gangland Barbie over there slapped my face, that one kicked me in the shin. What kind of schoolyard bullshit is that? You know how much it hurts to be kicked in the shin?”
Logan wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Don’t ever change, my dark angel.”
Chloe blushed from the endearment.
Recovering, she grumbled as she rubbed her leg. “This is totally going to bruise.”
“I’ll kiss your boo-boo and make it better later, for now I have to get these assholes tied up. Are your bags packed?”
She nodded yes.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “How many bags? You didn’t fill more than that box with your work tools did you?”
Chloe shook her head no. “Just the box and my pink gym bag.”
“Good girl.” Logan tossed her his keys. “Load them up in my truck while I clean up this mess.”
“Are you…are you going to kill them?” she asked hesitantly.
“They are very bad men, baby,” he reasoned.
Chloe shook her head yes.
“But no, they’re worth more as leverage.”
“Leverage?”
“You’ll see.”
One by one Logan dragged the limp bodies into a small shed across from the garage. From the look of it, it had been used for butchering when this property was used for hunting by her late uncle.
Perfect, thought Logan.
Securing the men’s wrists with rope, he hung each of them from the sturdy metal hooks which dangled from the ceiling. Hooks usually used to bleed the hunter’s kill. He then secured their ankles. He didn’t bother to gag them. The cabin was so remote no one would hear their cries for help, but that wouldn’t stop them from screaming themselves hoarse trying.
Since the earliest Logan would send someone to retrieve them was late tomorrow, they would probably all have permanent nerve damage from dangling so long by their arms. He doubted any of the three gang members would be able to hold a gun or threaten another unarmed woman again.
A fitting punishment.
That is if their own gang let them live after this bungled job.
An even more fitting punishment, thought Logan.
He left the dark, dank shed. Closing the double doors, he found a large, sturdy stick and drove it through the metal handles, securing the door as an extra precaution.
They would stay put until Logan had a chance to use them agai
nst both his client and the Columbians.
Chloe was already waiting for him in his 4-Runner. He hopped into the driver’s side. He gave her hand a playful slap when she reached for the radio.
“There is one major rule in my truck. Only I touch the radio,” he teased.
“Please don’t tell me you like…” The rest of her sentence was a groan as the opening strains of some country song belted over the airwaves.
“Buckle your seatbelt, little lady. We have a long ride.”
They rode in silence for at least five hours, both alone with their own thoughts. Hours spent listening to country songs with lyrics about a wholesome America filled with love, horses and picket fences. About an existence neither of them had ever known.
When he turned onto the Skyway, Chloe turned to him in confusion. “Are we going to Chicago? I would have thought…well…”
Logan laughed. “What? You figured I was taking you to some safe house? Maybe a small farm in the middle of Kentucky?”
Chloe twisted her finger around the cord of the hoodie she had folded on her lap. “Well…yes!”
Logan ran his knuckles down her cheek before grasping one silken brown curl and giving it a playful tug. “No, baby. That’s only in the movies. The safest place to hide is in plain sight in the middle of a crowd. Besides, my client is in Chicago.”
She gave him a side glance.
“Are you going to tell me who it is?”
“I think it’s best you don’t know. The less you know about this mess, the safer you will be in the long run.”
They both slipped back into a pensive silence.
An hour later, the distinctive outline of the Chicago skyline came into view. They rolled down Lakeshore Drive. Lake Michigan appeared dark and foreboding with only the occasional whitecap in the fading light. Logan’s black 4-Runner pulled up to the valet at the Drake Hotel.
“The Drake?” amused Chloe. “Well, I guess there goes another assumption.”
Logan spared her a quick glance. “I can’t stand two-bit motels. Crappy beds and no room service.”
Chloe laughed as she got out of the truck.
