Distant Thunder: Midseason Episode 2 (Rising Storm)

by Larissa Ione

  She had the nerve to show up to see the father of her baby give an award to the man who had wanted to be the father of her baby.

  And making matters worse, she’d come here looking beautiful. She wore her hair up in a loose ponytail, a few unruly strands curling against cheeks that glowed with her pregnancy. Even from here though, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, and it made his heart clench.

  If they were still together, he would never have allowed her to get that tired.

  But they weren’t together, were they? Because she’d lied. Because of the man standing next to him.

  He’d never been claustrophobic, but as he stood there, the trees began to close in on him. The air became thin and his skin grew clammy. He hadn’t felt like this since...

  Combat training.

  His unit had been training with live rounds, and there’d been an accident. It was the first time Logan had seen that much human blood. He’d been sucked into a spinning vortex of incoherence, stuck in his own head. He could see everything going on around him, could hear it, but none of it truly registered.

  It was a lot like right now.

  Distantly, as if from the depths of a waking nightmare, he heard Cap’s voice barking in his ear. Work through it, soldier. Work through it.

  He’d snapped into action, doing everything he’d been trained to do, and when it was done, he could barely remember any of it.

  Autofocus, his captain had called it later. He said that sometimes the brain wasn’t able to process thoughts and emotions, and it left the body running on auto, focusing on training and what needed to be done. It was why his unit trained constantly, repetitively.

  So they could function even if their brains went offline.

  He stared at Ginny as Senator Rush droned on. She stared back, even offering a small smile. Not long ago, he’d have begged for a smile like that from her. Now? Now it made him want to hurt someone. Like the man standing next to him.

  He slid a covert glance at the senator, his clenched hands trembling with the desire to knock the guy off the stage. He slid another glance at the stairs. Maybe he could just take off. Screw the award.

  Work through it, soldier. Work through it.

  Right. Deep breaths. Focus. Not on Ginny. On the street. Where he’d like to run over the senator with a tank.

  Amused, at least enough to keep from either escaping this farce or breaking Senator Rush’s face, he put himself at parade rest and played good little soldier.

  But he was definitely no hero.

  * * * *

  Watching his cousin up on the stage was the most awkwardly painful thing Tate Johnson had ever seen. It was clear that Logan didn’t want to be there, and it was just as clear that Senator Rush knew it and didn’t care. At least, it was clear to anyone who knew Sebastian. Strangers wouldn’t have seen the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes, and if they did, they’d mistake it for excitement or pride.

  But the more Tate got to know Senator Rush, the more he disliked him, and he wondered just how closely he should ally himself with the guy. After all, his philandering had inadvertently leveled his cousin. And family was everything.

  But even if the guy wasn’t reveling in Logan’s discomfort, Tate would be having some misgivings.

  Oh, there was no doubt that the senator was smart, but it wasn’t the kind of bookish intelligence that one needed to be a successful astrophysicist or bioengineer. No, this was the shrewd kind that made one a wealthy drug kingpin or Wall Street executive. Or politician.

  It was a sneaky smart combined with an ego the size of Texas and an utter lack of ethics.

  As a lawyer, Tate had come up against all types of intelligent, egotistical, unethical people, and he knew how to handle them. The problem was that, ideally, you wanted to handle them from afar. Keep them at a distance so that when—and it was always a matter of when, not if—they self-destructed, you avoided the fallout.

  He listened as the senator talked about bravery, sacrifice, and duty while Logan looked like he would rather be back in battle than here. Especially now that Ginny Moreno had arrived. Logan kept his eyes fixed in the distance, his gaze haunted and tinged with anger.

  Tate moved closer to the stage, assuming he’d find his father near the steps, and sure enough, Zeke, looking uncomfortable as hell, was waiting to rejoin the senator and Logan.

  “Hey, Dad.” He stepped up next to Zeke. “Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this shit show.”

  Zeke gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “The awards committee set this up. I thought I was presenting Logan with the honor until Sebastian showed up. I was as surprised as Logan to see him and all the cameras here.”

  “Why did the committee decide to let the senator—” He broke off as realization dawned. “Marylee is on the awards committee, isn’t she?”

  “Marylee is on all the committees,” Zeke said dryly. One of Sebastian’s campaign staffers gestured to him, and he gave the guy a curt nod. “I gotta go, son. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Tate watched his father walk off, and as he jerked his gaze back to the applauding crowd, he caught a glimpse of a blonde braid swishing against a teal blouse he’d once unbuttoned with his teeth.

  Hannah.

  She moved through the crowd, a smile as bright as the noon sun lighting up her face. The object of her smile, his own damned brother, bent to say something into her ear.

  Tate tore his gaze away, hating that seeing them together affected him in any way. But damn, he’d caught his girlfriend in bed with his own brother. They’d made a fool out of him, and now they’d just made his humiliation public.

  Cursing silently, he looked up at Logan, at the way the guy was trying not to look at Ginny, and Tate felt his pain. Standing next to the man who had screwed your girlfriend and not decking him was a serious exercise in self-control, and Tate knew for a fact that he didn’t have the same kind of discipline.

  Logan really was a hero.

  A hero Sebastian Rush was exploiting. Rush was a piece of shit. But, damn it, he was Tate’s ticket to bigger and better things, and if this farce of an awards ceremony helped it happen, Tate was going to play along and just pray that his cousin was strong enough to withstand the bullshit.

  Because some day, Rush was going to self-destruct, and Tate was going to be there to take up the slack.

  He just had to hope he didn’t get caught in the blast.

  Chapter Nine

  The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. Logan stood with his back against the side of the courthouse wall, his chest heaving, his body trembling, a cold sweat coating his skin. He’d made it through the ceremony okay, but the moment it was over, his ability to cope started to decay. He’d smiled numbly through the pictures and the handshakes and hugs, he’d made small talk that had come out of his mouth as if on autopilot, and then he’d escaped while everyone focused on Senator Rush and his bullshit.

  He dropped his head back against the building and forced himself to breathe. In. Out. Repeat.

  God, he hated feeling like this. Like he was at the mercy of some unseen force that grabbed him in its fist and squeezed. All he could do was wait until the pressure eased and he started feeling normal again.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there like that, but when he saw the senator making a beeline for his car, he knew he’d been standing there too long.

  He should have left immediately. Instead, he found himself moving swiftly to intercept the bastard. The moment the senator saw Logan, panic—and not a small amount of fear—flashed in his eyes.

  “You son of a bitch,” Logan growled, making a conscious effort to keep his fists at his sides.

  Senator Rush held up his hands in a placating gesture that didn’t work. “Now, now, Mr. Murphy, I wasn’t aware that the media would be here—”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he snapped. “So is the award. You arranged this to trick voters into thinking you’re a standup guy. Thi
s had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with your campaign.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, son.” Dipping his hand in his pocket, he fished for his keys and moved toward his car. “But I have a pressing engagement. Thank you again for your service.”

  “My ass.” Logan grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, enjoying the startled look on his face. The guy couldn’t fathom that someone might actually call him out on his lies. “There are no cameras here. You can shed the pretense of being a decent human being and a family values advocate.”

  Angry red splotches spread across the senator’s cheeks like a rash as he jerked out of Logan's grip. “Okay, then, why don’t you tell me what this bug up your ass is really about? Is it because I used you to advance my campaign? Big fucking deal, kid. We both got something out of it, so stop your damned whining. Or is it because you think I screwed your girlfriend? Because I didn’t.” He jabbed his finger at Logan. “The brat in her belly isn’t mine, so why don’t you back the hell off?”

  “You lying snake,” Logan ground out. “I know you slept with her. That baby is yours. What kind of coward won’t own up to his responsibilities?” He pressed forward, until the senator’s finger jammed into his sternum. “You’re a sick fuck and a pathetic excuse for a father. Stay away from Ginny, and leave her baby the hell alone. The kid is better off with no dad than one like you.”

  “Leave them alone?” The senator’s voice pitched low in a subtle challenge. “Or what?”

  Logan leaned in even more, forcing the other man back a step. “Or you’ll answer to me.” A stream of people rounded the corner of the building, so Logan eased up and gave the senator a big, fake smile. “And hey, thanks for your promise to vote for more funding for single mothers and veterans the next time it comes up,” he said, loud enough for the newcomers to hear.

  The senator glared, but he recovered quickly with a broad smile and a cheesy salute. “Of course. You know how I love working mothers and our military.” He waved at the strangers and jogged to his car.

  What an ass.

  That had felt good, though. Not as satisfying as running over the guy with a tank, but vague threats held their own appeal.

  Smiling for the first time today, he pivoted around...and nearly smacked into Ginny.

  “Logan. Sorry. I was just...my car...” She gestured behind him, and sure enough, parked in the stall a few spaces down from where Senator Rush had parked, was her vehicle.

  He didn’t know what to say or how to feel, not when his emotions were so tangled up, but anger was always an easy go-to, so he went.

  “I’m surprised to see you here today, Ginny. Did you come to see your lover give me an award?”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, but surprisingly, he didn’t take any joy in it. “I came to see you, Logan. I wanted to see you be honored for your service.”

  “Seriously?” He laughed, a harsh, nasty sound that made her recoil. “This was a setup, Ginny. Your lover used me to win over voters. He’s a real standup guy, that one. You know how to pick ’em.”

  This time, she didn’t let his barb hit home. Instead, she softened her voice the way she had when they were alone. “Even if that’s true, you deserved this honor.”

  “Deserved it for what? Not getting killed when everyone around me did?”

  She gripped his arm, and his traitorous heart stumbled all over itself at her touch. “Logan, you were a hero today. With everything that’s going on in the town, heck, in this world, people need to believe that there are good guys out there. You’re one of those good guys, and these people need you.”

  Marcus had said something similar, and Logan wanted to tug her against him, to thank her for trying to make him feel better about everything that had just happened, but then he remembered that all of it had been made worse by her.

  “That’s a load of crap,” he said, pulling away. “But then, it came out of your mouth, so what else can I expect?”

  “I didn’t lie to you, Logan. I just...didn’t tell you everything. Have you told me everything about your past? Do I know about all the girls from Storm you’ve slept with? Did we run into any of them while we were out on dates? Did I just sit there like an oblivious jackass while you chatted with an ex-lover?”

  “It’s not the same thing,” he ground out. “I didn’t get any of them pregnant. And none of them were married. Or related to my best friend.”

  She winced. “My point is—”

  “I know what your point is. And I don’t care. You told me Jacob Salt was the father of your baby. You told everyone that.”

  “Because I wanted him to be.” She clasped her hands together, almost in a plea. “I didn’t know about his medical condition. And I didn’t know I was pregnant until the accident. I was confused and scared and things got out of hand. Can’t you understand that?”

  Actually, he could. And that’s what made this all the more painful. He’d seen the horrors of war, knew that after a traumatic experience confusion and fear were like parasites, grabbing hold and feeding until there was nothing left of the host but a shell.

  So he got it. He really did. But he wasn’t ready to forgive her, maybe because even though shit had gotten bad for her, at least she’d conquered her parasites and was on her way to healing, and he was far, far away from that.

  Which made him a total asshole.

  Fuck. He needed to get drunk. Shit-faced drunk.

  “Logan?”

  He blinked, realized he must have gotten lost in his own head. “Yeah,” he said, getting back to her question. “I can understand it. But I’m not ready to forgive it.”

  He hated the hope his words had put in her eyes, because right now, he didn’t believe there was any hope for them at all.

  “I can wait until you’re ready,” she murmured.

  “Don’t,” he said gruffly. “Just...stay away from me. I mean it.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and dammit, he felt like he’d just kicked a puppy. “Of course. I’m sorry, Logan. I really am. If I could do things over again...” She inhaled deeply and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. But I hope you believe that I would never intentionally hurt you.”

  She left him standing there like a dope, his heart aching and his head spinning.

  It was definitely time to get drunk, and he had a couple of close friends named Jose Cuervo and Johnnie Walker who could assist with that.

  Yep, no one could ever say that Logan Murphy didn’t know who to ask for help.

  That Army psychologist could suck it.

  Chapter Ten

  Brittany squeezed Marcus’s warm hand as she led him through the darkness in her backyard. They skirted the pool and fire pit and kept well away from the mansion’s massive windows and the light from the patio.

  “Where are we going?” he whispered, looking around like a pack of Dobermans was going to rush them.

  “To the pool house,” she whispered back. “I thought we could be alone for a little while. Dinner at the Bluebonnet was a zoo, and the award ceremony...”

  “That was bullshit,” he growled.

  Brittany wasn’t sure if she was more angry about her father’s ambush of Logan or if Marcus was. After the ceremony, while Marcus helped block the media from getting too close to Logan, she’d cornered her father and asked him how he slept at night. She hadn’t even let him answer. She’d stormed off, not giving a shit if anyone saw or heard what she’d said to him.

  Then she’d run into Ginny, and she’d let her anger fly again. “If you’re looking for my dad, he was heading toward the courthouse. I’m sure you two can find an empty room to have unprotected sex in. It’s not like you can get more pregnant.”

  The blood had drained from Ginny’s face, and Brit had felt like crap for being such a bitch. Then she realized that Ginny was probably here for Logan, and that wasn’t much better. The last thing Logan needed right now was to have salt rubbed in the wound.

  Suitably angry, she’d walked away from Ginny a
nd hadn’t looked back. It was childish, she knew, and eventually she’d have to try to be a little more adult, given that Ginny would soon be giving birth to Brittany’s brother or sister.

  There was no way she was changing diapers, though.

  Quietly, she opened the pool house’s glass French doors and slipped inside with Marcus. She left the doors open to cool the small space down, and then she wrapped her arms around him and stood there among the oversized floor pillows and beach decor just enjoying being together.

  The sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and night insects chirping settled in around them, and all Brittany could think about was how being here right now with Marcus was a dream come true. She’d wanted him for so long, and then she’d finally realized it would never happen. She’d given up for years. And now, here they were, alone, and they’d already weathered more storms in a few weeks than many couples did in years.

  “This is nice,” he murmured against the top of her head.

  “It is,” she agreed, tilting her face up to his. He gazed down at her, his dark eyes smoldering in the faint light, and her pulse went crazy. Slowly, too slowly, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.

  The contact was light, just a whisper of a kiss. It was an invitation, one she was more than willing to take him up on.

  Sliding her hand around the nape of his neck, she went up on her toes and captured his mouth. A shiver ran through her as he met her enthusiasm with his own, hauling her up against him so she felt every hard angle of his body on hers. He licked at her lips with his tongue, demanding entrance.

  Oh, yes, he could enter anything he wanted.

  She opened for him, meeting his tongue with hers, and a heartbeat later, he was taking her down to the pillows. He laid her out on her back and stretched out next to her, propped up by one elbow as he cupped her face with his warm hand and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

  Desire pounded through her with every feather-soft stroke of his thumb over her cheek, and when he slid his palm lower, to her neck, she whimpered and arched against him, needing more contact.