Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  Logan’s jaw tightens as his hands form tight fists. I watch as his chest expands in anger and his nostrils flare.

  “When is the trial?” he asks.

  “In two weeks,” I reply.

  “How long has this thing been going on?”

  “For the past two months,” I reply carefully.

  “So for the past two months he’s been trying to get you to recant but you haven’t?” he says.

  “No, and I won’t.”

  “Yeah, I remember who you are,” he mumbles.

  “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” I push.

  “Never mind,” he says.

  Ouch.

  “Okay, now what aren’t you telling me?” he accuses.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “This has been going on for weeks and you didn’t contact me. Then suddenly you place a call. So, what was the catalyst? What made you call me?”

  I missed you. I miss us. I wanted your embrace as well as your protection.

  “When it looked like I really wasn’t going to change my story, Malone tried to intimidate me. He had me followed, he sent me threating emails, and had the center trashed. I thought that was the end of it but last night, I came home and…”

  “And what?” he pushes.

  “There was blood on the floor and I hear moaning… He killed my dog,” I reply, trying to keep down the bile in my throat. He swears under his breath and shakes his head in disgust.

  “She was cut open and lying on floor… I just couldn’t believe…” I stop and pause to get myself under control. If I let my anger take hold, there’s no telling what I might do.

  “Okay, look, I know you don’t want to skip out on this hearing, but given everything that’s happened, no one would blame you if you did,” he reasons.

  “I would blame me. I can’t walk away. That’s why I called you. I don’t have anyone else to turn to,” I admit, hating how vulnerable I sound.

  He says, “I saw a cop car across the street. Are they offering you protection even though you won’t go into witness protection?”

  “No, your brother arranged it just for tonight.”

  “Which one?” he asks.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Wyatt knew about this?” he says.

  “Yeah, it’s not his case but he heard I was involved and he wanted to help me out,” I reply. Wyatt is the youngest of the Hunter brothers. He works homicide. He’s almost as hot as Logan. He’s also very protective and goes above and beyond for his family. However, unlike Logan, Wyatt has a laid-back demeanor. Logan has always had a quick temper and very little patience.

  “He didn’t say a word to me,” Logan mumbles.

  “That’s my fault. I begged Wyatt to keep it between us.”

  “Oh, so you talk to Wyatt?”

  “Um, yeah. I bump into him once in a while,” I reply.

  “And you two are…close?” he says with a hint of jealousy.

  “What? No! It’s not like that. That’s your little brother!” I scold.

  “You had no issue with my best friend, I’m not really sure where the line is with you,” he says.

  He really does hate me. I bob my head up and down and purse my lips. “I don’t know what to say about that. Logan, there’s a lot of things that you and I—”

  “You know what, I shouldn’t have said anything. This has nothing to do with what happened three years ago. I just want to stay focused on the task of keeping you safe until the trial,” he says. “Get your stuff, we’ve got to go.”

  Damn, I want to tell him the truth about the night he found me with Jack but now is not the time.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “We’ll head to your place, get your stuff, and move you into a hotel. I have some things I need to see to in the morning. I’ll have some guys I trust take you to work and stay with you until I get them done.”

  “Okay, give me a few minutes,” I reply as I get up and start to gather my things. When I’m done, he opens the door for me but doesn’t place his hand on my lower back like he used to when guiding me out the door. He doesn’t watch my ass like he used to as I walk through the doorway.

  Yup, he is totally over me…

  (Present)

  When we get outside, he talks to the cop parked across the street. I can’t hear what he’s saying but not long after, the cop car pulls off, the driver looking really pissed. I’m guessing Logan was unhappy with the job the cop was doing and told him off.

  “You’re still charming,” I tease.

  “Yeah, I’m a real sweetheart,” he says sarcastically.

  “He was doing Wyatt a favor. You didn’t need to scold him.”

  “I got in and out of the building and he didn’t notice anything. He’s too fucking busy texting like a damn teenager to notice what is happening right in front of him.”

  “Fair enough,” I reply, in no hurry to argue. We get in a cab, and he places a quick call and instructs the person on the other end to meet him at my place. When we get to my apartment, he searches the area, gun in hand, before allowing me to go in. I’m not completely comfortable with guns but I’m much better than I was when we first met.

  I’m glad I’m not sleeping at home tonight. The blood that was once on my kitchen floor has long been wiped away but I swear I still smell it. I can barely look towards the kitchen without seeing flashes of my poor dog, Rabbit, on the floor. Once inside, I quickly pack a bag and we are headed back out.

  This time, when we get to the sidewalk there’s a sleek black truck waiting for us out front. The driver gets out, and the moment I see who it is, a smile spreads across my face. “Banshee!” I exclaim as I embrace my favorite tall, wiry gadget junky.

  “Shay?!” he says, shocked as he returns my affection. According to Logan, Banshee is the best surveillance tech in the business. His long stringy hair and dark rimmed glasses make him a poster boy for tech nerds everywhere. They call him Banshee because during an op, he saw a mouse and screamed for dear life. The team he was working with, at the time, never let him live it down.

  “I knew this address sounded familiar,” he says as we break apart. He looks over at Logan pointedly. “No one told me I’d be seeing you,” he says.

  Logan rolls his eyes. “Next time I’ll run my entire agenda by you,” he lies.

  “You see how he talks to me?” Banshee says.

  “Yeah, you know who you’re dealing with,” I remind him.

  “Yeah, Mr. Softy,” Banshee says sarcastically.

  “How is—what’s her name—Barbara?” I ask.

  “Oh that ended,” he says.

  “Aw, I’m sorry,” I reply. “What happened?”

  “I loved her, I opened my heart and my world to her, and she went and betrayed me. So I broke up with her,” Banshee says, sounding pained.

  “She cheated on you?” I ask.

  “Worse, she bought a computer.”

  “And?” I push.

  “And it was a PC, not a Mac. I have standards. Okay, I can handle anything, cheat on me, lie to me, but please, don’t bring a damn PC into my home. My home!” he shouts angrily. Logan and I look at each other and silently agree not to push the issue. I suppress a smile and tell him how sorry I am.

  “Yeah, me too. It’s been a hard year, all around. I’m sure you’ve heard about all the Radio Shacks that are closing. They are down to only a handful now.”

  “I know that was your favorite place,” I reply, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m not gonna lie, it hurts.” He nods with sadness. But then he suddenly smiles and looks over at the two of us. “What am I complaining about? You two are back together—that’s fucking amazing!” I look at Logan and he looks away from me. That stings.

  “Um no, Banshee, we are not…together. Logan came to help me out with something. When it’s done, he’ll take off again,” I reply, mostly as a reminder to myself.

  “Oh, I thought…” Banshee stops talking
once he sees the looks on our faces.

  “Banshee, can I get the keys or do you want to play another round of ‘catch up’?” Logan asks impatiently. Banshee hands him the key, and Logan takes my carry-on, puts it in the trunk, then walks around and gets in the driver’s seat. He leaves me outside to say good-bye to my old friend.

  “Sorry, I just thought you two were together again,” Banshee says.

  “We’re not. And that’s just as well because Logan hates me.”

  “I’ve known that guy for years. He feels a lot of things when it comes to you, but I don’t think any of what he feels is hate.”

  ***

  He takes us to the Four Seasons Hotel on East Fifty-seventh Street. It’s so far out of my budget; I can’t even begin to comprehend their prices. He turns to me as we get out and let the valet park the car. He studies my face and smiles to himself.

  “I know you want to pay your own way, but the fact is Malone already knows all about you. He knows that you have limited funds and that you are likely to go somewhere that reflects that. He won’t think to look for you at a place like this,” he says as the doorman holds the heavy glass door open for us.

  “I can’t pay for this and I don’t want you paying for me,” I reply as I look around the large, lavishly decorated lobby.

  Damn this place is nice. If I die and come back, I’d like to come back rich. Do you hear that, God?

  “I know you hate people spending money on you, and while I get it, we’re already here. I’m fucking exhausted and I know you must be too. So let’s just skip the part where you argue and go right to the part where I tell you this is happening,” he says firmly.

  “There’s a nice Best Western not far from here,” I reply before he makes it to the front desk of the opulent hotel. He turns towards me and his frustration is easy to read. But I don’t care; I don’t want him spending money on me on top of coming to my rescue. I mean, a girl should hold on to some pride, right?

  “Shay…” he swears under his breath.

  “What?” I reply. His jaw tightens and he rakes his hands through his hair. He’s seriously not in the mood to go a few rounds with me and I get that. But I’m the one who pulled him into this mess; I want to pay for whatever we have to buy. But I should have known that he wouldn’t let me pay for anything. He never did before, whether we were dating or not.

  “Please don’t pay for us. Let me pay,” I reply, more pleading than defiant. He comes closer to me, and my body is alert and excited at the change in his proximity.

  “This isn’t up for debate. This is the best move for right now. This hotel is centrally located, it’s almost always full, so you won’t be isolated, and the head of security is a friend of the family. And if it helps, you can pay for breakfast, okay?” he says in a softer tone.

  “You don’t eat breakfast,” I remind him.

  “You remember that?”

  “Yeah, you’re more of a lunch guy,” I reply.

  His face softens slightly. “Well, I’ll choke down a muffin if it makes you feel better, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He signs us in using an alias and declines help from the staff, choosing instead to take our bags up himself. We’re packing pretty light: my small carry-on and the duffle bag he had in the back of the truck. We step into the elevator and get out on the fifty-first floor, the presidential suite. When we get up to our room, it does not disappoint. The suite boasts multiple flat screen TVs, a walk-in closet, fresh flowers, and panoramic views of New York City’s vibrant, glowing skyline. I look over at him with shock and disapproval.

  “Before you say anything, we’re getting a huge discount.”

  “For your pretty face?” I tease.

  “That hardly gets me anywhere nowadays,” he lies.

  “What’s the discount for?”

  “I helped the front desk manager out of a tight situation once. It’s a long story. It’s late; you should go get ready for bed.” The word “bed” just rolls around the room, it’s as if we just now realized we had access to a room that people normally have sex in.

  “Yeah, I’ll go take a shower—unless you want to go first?” I ask.

  “No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

  He’s being so polite. It doesn’t hide his anger and bitterness when it comes to me but I guess it could be worse; he could be hostile or even worse yet, indifferent.

  “Logan, thank you for coming all this way to help me.”

  “Yup, no problem,” he says way too casually.

  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t come,” I admit.

  “Then you don’t know me at all,” he shoots back.

  “I think I know you pretty well but I’m open to learning new things about you. Maybe tomorrow we can catch up?” I venture.

  “Shay, I’m here to help with this Malone asshole and keep you safe. I will do that so long as there is breath in my body. But that’s where it stops with us. We don’t need to get reacquainted with each other or try to be something we’re not. Let’s just get through this and then go our separate ways,” he says with firm certainty.

  “You hate me,” I whisper as I look into his eyes. He turns them away from me but I follow his gaze and force him to address me. He doesn’t reply.

  “Logan?”

  “No, Shay, I don’t. But it’s not for lack of trying.”

  ***

  I turn off the water and reach for the towel on the nearby rack. I bury my face into the softest bath towel I have ever held. It’s like putting my face on a cloud. I take a deep breath and prepare for the hostility and bitterness that awaits me just outside this door. I dry off and slip into my favorite big, gray, comfy nightshirt. When I exit the bathroom and walk out into the main area, I find Logan texting on his phone. He doesn’t look up.

  “I’m all done. The shower is yours,” I announce awkwardly.

  “Yeah, I just need—” He looks up, sees me, and falls silent.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You still have that shirt?” he asks.

  I look down at what I’m wearing. Oh shit! I sleep with this shirt all the time; I didn’t even think to pack something else. This shirt was his. He left it at my place after we made love for the first time. It’s a very old tee shirt but I love it. It says “Property of NYPD” on it and it gets softer each wash. Wearing it always makes me feel closer to him. There were nights, however, that I really needed him and had to take the shirt off because it did way too good a job of bringing him to mind.

  “I was packing so quickly, I just took whatever was nearby. I’m such an idiot; I should have known it would be awkward. I can change if you want,” I offer.

  He takes me in from head to toe, then he swallows hard and shrugs. “It’s just a shirt,” he says.

  “Okay, I guess you’re right,” I reply, feeling a stab of disappointment as he walks past me and goes into the bathroom.

  ***

  A little while later, I’m looking out at the breathtaking views when I hear him enter. He’s wearing the plush white robe the staff left. His muscles are bronzed, bulging, and beautiful underneath the cloth. When I think of how close he is to me and what lies behind the robe, I’m dizzy with desire. But the coldness in his eyes tells me I’m right to fend off my feelings. I know it’s not realistic to think we’d be making love right now, but I thought I’d get to feel his arms around me, if only for a few moments.

  “You alright?” he asks.

  “Do you care?” I ask before I can tell myself to shut the hell up.

  “Excuse me?” he says sharply.

  “Nothing,” I reply. He shakes his head in frustration and walks over to the sofa where he plans to sleep. I head towards the bedroom but turn back to face him as he starts to settle in.

  “You’d be more comfortable on the bed. I can sleep out here,” I offer.

  “No, this is fine. I won’t be getting much sleep anyway. Need to work out the next steps. We can’t just sit here and wait for the court date
. The more time passes, the more desperate Malone will get.”

  “Okay, if you won’t sleep inside, at least let me help you make up the sofa,” I offer. Before he can turn down my help, I grab some pillows and sheets off the bed and prepare a makeshift bed for him. One of the pillows I placed on the sofa slides off; we both go to pick it up and our hands touch. We place the pillow back and are now standing close to each other—too close.

  I don’t even remember leaning into him. It’s as if his eyes are pulling me closer and closer. They have some kind of hold on me, always have. The lure of his strong embrace is impossible to break away from. I need to fall into his arms more than I need air in my lungs. Standing inches away from him is sweet torture, and I ache to close the gap between us.

  The hate I saw in his eyes before is gone. Now, my face is warm under his ardent stare. My heartbeat jumps to a dangerous rate, my nipples harden in the hope that he will have mercy and mold them with his tongue like he used to. The way he’s looking at my lips is making my sex pulsate. There’s a tingle traveling down my spine and a heady feeling that threatens to take over. I need him to close the gap and take me in his arms.

  Take me, please.

  He leans in.

  Oh shit.

  He’s gonna touch me. He’s gonna give me what I’ve been needing since the day we parted, he’s gonna make love to me.

  Yes! Yes!

  He closes the gap between us and whispers sincerely in my ear. “Goodnight, Shay.”

  I choke on my disappointment silently and nod. “Goodnight, Logan.”

  (Present)

  Pushing her away last night was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve had to do in a long time. I knew I had to lay it all out, not just for her but for me too. I could feel myself starting to lose it last night when she entered the room wearing my old shirt, looking like a walking dream. The urge to hold her was so strong, I had to leave the room and get in the fucking shower to cool off. I slept a total of two or three hours, tops.