With Good Behavior [Conduct Series #1]

by Jennifer Lane

  “Sophie …” he whispered gruffly. The painful memories threatened to drown him.

  As soon as Logan had entered her office, she asked, “Would you like some coffee? I can just go down the hall and get some from the break room.”

  Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he shook his head.

  “I was hoping you’d come back.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Logan retorted.

  “We always have choices, Logan. You just might not like the consequences of particular choices. If you choose not to return to counseling, the consequence will likely be prison. That’s not such an appealing consequence, but you still have a choice.”

  He shot her an uncomfortable glance. He despised being tied to her, betrothed to her stamp of approval. Once she gave him the thumbs up, confirmed that he was cured of his gambling addiction, he could end this little dance they performed once a week: her asking questions and him evading her at every pass. Nevertheless, Logan had realized he would miss her once this was over. She was beautiful and kind, a real classy chick. Certainly out of his league.

  “I was worried that last week’s session might have been a bit rough for you,” she explained, and they both silently recalled him bawling like a baby as he discussed a childhood beating by his father. Sophie had assumed his tears were about failing to protect his brother back then. But she was wrong. What really hit him in the gut, causing him to weep uncontrollably, was his guilt about something that happened to them as adults. What he had done to his brother was unforgiveable.

  “It was fine,” he lied.

  Sophie gave a nervous smile. It was now time to address the kiss—the smoldering smooch Logan had planted on her as she tried to comfort him last week. The kiss she did not stop. The kiss that heated her to the core.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh, I need to talk to you about something.”

  He watched her slide her hands beneath her lithe, long legs, tucking the sides of her unusually long skirt against them. Dismayed to find those gorgeous gams hidden, Logan eyed her blushing cheeks curiously.

  “The, uh …” She cleared her throat again. “When I sat next to you, and tried to, um, provide support as you were reliving that painful memory, well …”

  Logan was amused to watch her avert her gaze, not daring to meet his intense stare. After her countless comments about how he refused to maintain eye contact, he enjoyed this little role-reversal.

  “I—I’m flattered that, um, you kissed me,” she continued, her cheeks burning. “But that—that can’t happen again, Logan. That was, um, inappropriate. That was not right for a therapist and client to kiss.”

  Although they were discussing a serious topic, Logan could not help but grin. She was absolutely precious all nervous and apologetic, and he felt warmth in his heart just looking at her.

  Sophie glanced down and murmured, “I apologize for letting that happen. I exploited my power, and therefore I think it would be best to refer you to another psychologist.”

  Logan’s grin vanished. “No way! I’m not seeing another shrink. If you try to refer me to someone else, I won’t go. And then it’ll be your fault when they send me to prison.”

  At first she’d looked sympathetic and guilty. Now she was angry. “That is ludicrous! I am not responsible for your choices.” Looking away, she added, “I’m only responsible for my own. And my recent choices have not been looking out for your best interests. I don’t think I can be objective when it comes to you.”

  He licked his bottom lip mischievously. “And why is that, Sophie?”

  She glared at him. “My ethics code dictates that I am to avoid multiple relationships,” she explained, feeling protected by the intellectual-sounding words she used. “I can’t be your therapist and your … well, someone you kiss. I can’t be both.”

  He exuded pure charm. “Well, if you’re drawing a line in the sand, I’m okay with just being the someone you kiss then.”

  Her intense, serious expression lightened considerably upon hearing his retort, but she soon grew pensive and sad. “The second you walked through my door as my client, the possibility of romance between us ended. That’s just the way it is. That’s what my professional ethics demand. I have no choice.”

  “You said we always have a choice, remember?”

  She felt stymied to have her words thrown back at her. “I mean …”

  “Listen,” Logan interrupted. “I get what you’re saying about ethics, blah, blah. And I would say I’m sorry for kissing you, but really I’m not. It was an incredible kiss, babe. But I promise it won’t happen again. Just give me another chance. Don’t make me go to prison, Sophie.”

  He watched her falter. His false reassurances were starting to get to her. Driving forward, capitalizing on her compassion, he added, “Here I go to the trouble of bringing you a gift today, and then you want to kick me out of here? You want to abandon me?”

  Sophie looked startled. “A gift?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled proudly, reaching into his jacket. Handing a thick envelope to her, he explained, “This should help you with your student loans.”

  Puzzled, Sophie reluctantly accepted the envelope and gasped when she looked inside, finding crisp one-hundred-dollar bills neatly stacked together. Her voice rose shrilly. “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s five grand. I wanted to thank you for trying to help my sorry ass.”

  “You already pay me one-fifty for each session. I can’t accept this!”

  “What’s the big deal?” he asked defensively, his face falling. He’d expected her to be grateful. They’d just robbed a nightclub—effectively eliminating the biggest competitor to Angelo’s club, as well as pulling in a boatload of cash—and he wanted her to share in his good fortune.

  “The big deal?” she repeated incredulously. “It’s exactly the same thing as you kissing me. It’s a boundary violation.” She stuffed the envelope back into his unsuspecting grasp. “I can’t take this, Logan.”

  His prominent brow furrowed. This was not going as expected. People did not usually say no to him.

  “Where did this money come from?” Sophie asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

  “We got a consulting contract,” Logan lied. A few sessions back he’d finally answered her repeated questions about what he, his uncle, and his cousin did for a living. His initial responses of “run the family business” had not satisfied her. He’d told her his family owned a consulting business, figuring nobody knew what the fuck consultants did anyway. “Consultant” was an excellent cover for organized crime. After all, he would often demand that drug dealers or other thugs on the payroll “consult” with his fist if they didn’t stay in line.

  Continuing to stare at him, her expression a mixture of anger, compassion, and uncertainty, Sophie had no idea what to say.

  “Look, sorry I tried to do something nice for you, okay? I won’t do it ever again. Can we just forget this and move on?” Returning the envelope to his jacket, he began massaging his temples. “Um, could I get that cup of coffee you offered me before?”

  She gave him a look of sympathy. “Caffeine headache?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Sophie frowned. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” she said, her voice softening. “It was sweet of you to try to help me. It’s just that this relationship has to have rules to make it work, okay? I can’t be an effective therapist if I’m your friend or lover.”

  He stared at the floor, his rough hands moving from his temples to rub his scalp, appearing deep in thought.

  “I’ll go get us some coffee,” she said.

  Once she was gone, Logan took the envelope back out of his jacket and turned it over and over in his hands. He did not have a safe place to keep cash like this. He could hardly deposit the dirty money in a bank, and stashing it at his apartment was unwise as well since his cousin Carlo had a tendency to make unexpected visits. If he kept the cash on him, it would just be a matter of time before he gamb
led it away. Sophie believed he was making zero progress on his gambling addiction, but he really was trying to cut back. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

  Hearing her footsteps outside the door, Logan swiftly stuffed the envelope underneath the sofa. It was the best hiding place he could think of. When she entered the office, he suppressed a grin. She’d accepted his gift after all.

  Logan’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, shaking him back to the warm beach. Seeing Restricted on the caller ID, he cautiously answered, “Yeah?”

  “It’s me,” Angelo Barberi informed him.

  Logan exhaled slowly. “Godfather.”

  “How ya doin’? You outside or somethin’?”

  “Yeah, I’m at the beach. How you been?”

  “Ah, same old, same old. Business hasn’t been great.”

  Logan closed his eyes. For the past year, his uncle had been moaning about running the business without him, his right-hand man. The complaints and dropped hints had become louder of late, and Logan suspected he knew the nature of this call. Angelo wanted his godson to return to Chicago and resume his rightful place as heir to a Mafia throne.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Logan responded. “How’s the heat in Chicago these days?”

  “Caldo. Our police contact confirmed that you are still very much a wanted man.”

  Logan exhaled. He had nobody to blame but himself for the police heat. They’d discovered too late that the Chicago PD had tapped family bodyguard Anthony Tanketti’s phone. Logan could still remember the conversation that had likely led the cops to Sophie:

  “What do you want, Tank?” Logan growled into the phone.

  Tank sounded offended. “Good to talk to you too, Logan. The, uh, ‘profits’ from our activities last week … they safe?”

  Logan hesitated. “Who wants to know?”

  “Carlo. He told me to ask you about it.”

  “Carlo has nothing to worry about. I know how to take care of profits.”

  Tank blurted, “You know how to lose it all in a poker game, too.”

  “Fuck you, Tank.” Logan’s hands itched with the desire to punch him again. Apparently he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time.

  Tank backpedaled. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You know how Carlo can get. He was having a hissy-fit about the cashish—you know what he’s like.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Logan said, nodding. “Look, you can trust me. It’s safe. I’ve got someone on the side, taking care of things.”

  “Who?” His voice was insistent.

  “None of your fucking business. She’s fine—she won’t talk. And she’s got a real nice office. Nobody will find the money.”

  Tank sounded impressed. “You getting yourself a little tail, Logan? Nice … very nice.”

  Logan said nothing.

  “Just watch out,” Tank warned. “Girls can weaken guys like us.”

  “Logan, you still there? When’re you coming back?”

  Angelo’s voice in his ear returned Logan to the present.

  “How can I come home? It’s too soon, too dangerous.”

  “Maybe,” Angelo acquiesced. “But I’m not calling about just business woes.” He took a dramatic pause, and Logan’s heart rate increased. “Your brother is out,” he finally said.

  “Grant?” Logan’s voice rose. “He’s out? I thought he had another nine months.”

  “According to Enzo, he got released with good behavior. Your brother was always a goody two-shoes, Logan.”

  “How long has he been out?”

  “About two weeks.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”Logan practically shouted into the phone.

  “Relax! It took me a while to secure a safe phone. The fucking feds have been riding our asses since Blackfoot.”

  Logan sighed, recalling the botched delivery of stolen goods to the Blackfoot casino in Gary, Indiana. Several of their men had been arrested in the melee, though none of them had turned on the Barberi family. Yet. Carlo had arranged the delivery, and Carlo had fucked up once again.

  Biting his lip, Logan inquired, “Does Carlo know Grant’s out?”

  Angelo was silent, and Logan’s heart sank. “Yeah, he just found out. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Damn straight I want to know. Can’t you do anything? Can’t you contain Carlo?”

  It was a familiar argument: Logan urging Angelo to cut loose the one man who seemed to destroy all their plans, and Angelo balking. “He’s my son,” Angelo said, his voice breaking.

  Logan sighed. “Yes, Godfather.”

  “I’m trying to keep Carlo away from the books, Logan. But someday he’s going to find out I’ve been bankrolling your little getaway to the tropics, and he’s not going to like it. Someday you’re going to have to start contributing more to the business. Wanted man or not.”

  “I know. Just leave Grant out of it. I’ve already involved him way too much as it is.”

  “I hear you, Godson. But as you know, Carlo disagrees. He talks nonstop about the money you lost, and if you don’t pay it back soon, he’s going to try to get it any way he can.”

  “Shit,” Logan muttered. “Do you know where Grant is?”

  “No, no one knows. We don’t think he’d be stupid enough to return to Chicago.”

  “You’re probably right,” Logan lied, trying to sound convincing. He could just about guarantee his brother was somewhere in Chicago. That was where their mother was buried.

  Suddenly rushed, Angelo whispered, “I gotta go. Take care of yourself. Ciao.”

  Logan closed his phone, continuing to gaze at the sea. His regret regarding Sophie was a single drop of saltwater compared to the ocean of remorse he felt about Grant.

  It was a little over two years ago, a couple of weeks before the court ordered Logan into therapy with Sophie. One week before his actions sent Grant to prison.

  This time Grant saw Logan coming. This time Grant was not surprised by his brother approaching the grave. This time it was their mother’s birthday, and Logan had known his brother would be here.

  As Logan sidled up to his brother, Grant continued staring at the headstone. They stood wordlessly side by side, roughly the same height, with the same closely cropped midnight-black hair. Finally, Grant said, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Logan responded. After waiting a beat, he added, “I heard you were back in town.”

  “How the hell did you know?”

  The muscles lining Logan’s jaw flexed. “Carlo found out. I don’t know how. He hears everything.”

  “I told you to stay away from him.”

  The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched, amused by his little brother trying to tell him what to do. The half-smile quickly faded, however, when he remembered the recruitment task ahead of him. Staring sadly at the bare ground in the headstone’s shadow, Logan asked, “What, no flowers this time?”

  Grant sniffed. “I didn’t have time. I have a flight to Norfolk in a couple of hours.”

  “To visit Joe?”

  “Yeah.”

  They stood in silence once again, and Grant shivered slightly in the cool March breeze. His eyes did not move from the grave. “I wonder what she would think of me now,” he murmured.

  Logan’s lips tightened. He knew their mother would be very proud of the man Grant had become, in contrast to her feelings for Logan. Her older son was now a no-good crook.

  Wincing, Logan realized he was about to let down his dead mother yet again. But it had to be done. He had no choice.

  “Your trip to see Joe might have to be delayed. I’ve got something for you to do before you leave,” Logan told Grant.

  “No,” Grant responded immediately, vehemently.

  Logan swallowed hard. “I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

  Slowly turning to face his brother, Grant’s crystal eyes clouded over. “What does that mean?”

  Unable to hold his brother’s intense gaze, Logan cleared his throat uncomfortably, hatin
g himself. “It means that unless you help us, we’re going to hurt Joe. You do a job for us, or Uncle Joe will die.”

  Grant gasped at the hideous threat. It was preposterous for Logan to threaten the life of their own mother’s brother. Part of him wanted to laugh—a sick, harsh chuckle at the cruelty of his own family. But it was no laughing matter. Closing his eyes and scraping his hands across his buzzed hair, Grant knew the truth: This was a lethal and imminent threat. They had killed before, and they would kill again. They would take away the only remaining person he loved in this world, unless he did their bidding. He had no choice.

  Grant heard a numb voice that had to be his own. “What do I have to do?”

  “The bar near Great Lakes,” Logan replied evenly. “We’re going to take something back from there that belongs to us. And we need your help, Lieutenant Madsen.”

  He had joined the Navy to get away from his family, and now they were using his military status against him. Grant felt sick. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Logan smiled encouragingly. Once they accomplished this robbery, Logan promised himself he would never involve Grant again. He would keep him safe from Carlo no matter what it took.

  Suddenly, Logan realized it was almost pitch black at the beach around him. The sun had long ago descended below the horizon, and he could barely see his hand before his face.

  Sighing heavily, he trudged through the sand toward the plantation hotel. Once he reached the sidewalk, he shook out his boots and brushed the sand off his jeans, wishing he could shake his memories of Sophie and Grant just as easily.

  He had utterly failed at keeping Grant safe, and now that Grant had sacrificed his freedom by going to prison, Logan was determined not to fail again. Though he was still pursued by the police, he would have to return to Chicago and pay his debt. Logan would remain hidden no more.