Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  “You don’t get it. I was in hell. I was away from you. That is hell. The only difference is that thanks to you, instead of battling demons together, you made sure we were apart. And that made us weaker.”

  “Logan…I did what I thought was best for you.”

  “Yeah, I know you think you did. But the fact is, staying here with you, helping you through your illness, while it would have been hard, it would have been better than going to sleep every night wondering what I did to drive the woman I love so far away.”

  “Logan, tell me how to fix this.”

  “If you had it all to do over again, would you tell me you were sick?”

  She looks away. “Answer me,” I plead. She starts biting her nails, a sure sign she’s struggling with what is about to come out of her mouth.

  “Shay!”

  “No! Okay, no. I would never let you think I cheated on you. That part I wouldn’t do again. But no, I wouldn’t tell you I was sick.”

  “Wow.” I sigh deeply in a mix of frustration and sadness. “Well, at least it didn’t take you two years to spit it out…”

  (Present)

  The man I love more than anything in this world genuinely hates me. His eyes are dark with anger and every inch of him detests having to be here in this hotel room with me. He asks if I want room service. He asks because his mother raised him to not be an asshole. But deep down, I’m not sure he cares if I eat or not. I’m not sure he cares about what I do from now on. I’m the girl that hurt him beyond repair. I’m the one that took away his choices.

  “No, thank you,” I whisper as I head to my bathroom. I want him to call out to me, I want him to say that we need to keep talking; we need to figure things out. But the truth is there’s nothing to figure out. I see our past one way and he sees it another. I open the door to the bathroom and close it behind me. I pray to God for just one thing: strength to make it to the shower before I break down and cry.

  I take my clothes off and turn the water on full blast. I stand under the powerful spray and sob. The tears don’t come because he’s mad. They come because for the first time in his life Logan Hunter regrets meeting me. I can see it in his eyes. He wishes we had never met. All I ever wanted was to belong to him again, but that will never happen now…

  The next few days are tough on both of us. Sometimes I catch him looking distant and pensive. I’m sure he’s trying to erase all the memories he has of us being together. The same memories I’d die to protect. I knew telling him would be hard but I had no idea just how hard it would be. When Logan loved me, he touched every part of my life and brought warmth to it. That warmth is gone. It’s cold now.

  When we speak it’s mostly related to the case. That’s what I am to him now—a case. I’m an assignment he has to get through. He tells me about Cash and I’m relieved that his brother is that much closer to being safe. We share that relief but that’s the end of the connection.

  Tonight, we head back to the hotel after a long day at the center. We both grabbed a bite from the food truck earlier, so no need to order room service or takeout. No need to sit across from each other and talk. That’s what couples do, that’s what friends do, and I don’t think we are either anymore.

  Tonight, like all the nights before, I have trouble sleeping. I hear a knock on my door. My heart is thumping hard. He’s on the other side of the door, wanting to come in. Is it over? It the cold war over with us?

  No, he probably wants to talk about the business of protecting me.

  I tell him to come in and he does. He then closes the door behind him. The two of us are in the same room with only a bed between us. He sits on the edge and faces me. He says that I hurt him and that it was hard for him to forgive me but that he will try. I tell him how sorry I am and that I love him more than I could ever love anyone. He reaches out and pulls me into his arms.

  Being held by him is even better than I remembered. He devours my mouth and slides his lips down my throat. He grazes my nipples with his warm eager tongue and makes me whimper as he pulls the covers over us and enters me. I moan as he invades my body with deliciously possessive strokes. I moan uncontrollably as my body bends to his every will. I writhe and groan with pure pleasure as he makes demands of me. “Tell me you’re mine. Say it,” he orders. I’m so close to coming, so close to imploding I would say anything for him not to stop.

  “Who do you belong to?” he demands as he sends me over the cliff and into the center of the biggest orgasm of my life.

  “WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?” he commands as he thrusts deeper inside me and causes my back to arch off the bed.

  “You, Logan! You!” I yell in ecstasy.

  Suddenly the room melts around me and turns into a series of fading colors, swirling into an abyss. I feel someone shaking me.

  “Shay, Shay, wake up!” Logan says.

  I snap out of the most lucid dream I’ve ever had in my life. He’s not in the bed with me. He’s standing above me, trying to pull me back to my senses. He hasn’t forgiven me. He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t make love to me. Nothing has changed. It was all some stupid dream.

  What the fuck?!

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  No, I’m not. I just had a fucking wet dream where you were the star and you heard every word.

  I stick out my thumb up and say, “Yup, all good!”

  Great, I sound like a cheerleader on speed. Where the hell did that peppy voice come from?

  “You’re flushed. Do you need some water?” he asks, trying to suppress his amusement.

  “No,” I reply as heat in my face spreads. “What are you doing here—I mean…did I wake you?” I ask, begging that God in his mercy will kill me right then and there.

  “I heard you…” he replies.

  “You heard me what?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he lies.

  “It’s fine, you can say it,” I reply as I drop my head in shame. “Go ahead. Say it.” I sigh.

  “You were having a…dream. It happens,” he replies as if I just told him I had a turkey sandwich for lunch. That bothers me. I don’t know why. I guess after being embarrassed, the least he could do is be embarrassed for me or with me. Or maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I thought he’d be turned on. I mean, he should be, right? Isn’t it rude not to be turned on when a woman is having a wet dream about you?

  “You really don’t care about what I was doing in my dream, do you?” I ask.

  “It’s your dream, Shay. I don’t really have a say in it.”

  “Really? You know what I was dreaming about, don’t you?”

  He smirks a little but says nothing. “Seriously, Logan?”

  “What do you want me to say?” he asks.

  Shay, I love you. I get why you did what you did and I forgive you. I love you. And I want to get back together.

  “Shay, what do you want me to say to the fact that you had a wet dream? I don’t know what the rules are for this.”

  “You used to say ‘fuck the rules’ and then you’d take me and make love to me. Do that now, do that right now,” I mumble to myself as he starts to walk away.

  “What?” he asks as he turns back around.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  “Get some rest.”

  ***

  The next morning, I tell Kat about my embarrassing night and it’s like Christmas for her. She lovingly teases me and gives me a suggestion.

  “You should pretend to be sleepwalking and then ‘sleepwalk’ your way onto his cock and ride him until he remembers he loves you.”

  “Um…no. I’m not gonna do that,” I reply.

  “Hey, ‘sleep fucking’ is a real illness. And well, you look like you could be coming down with it—right now,” she says. I laugh despite myself.

  “Shay, I need you to take a look at something,” Logan says as he pokes his head into my office. I tell Kat I will be right back and then I follow him out the main room, where Banshee sits behind a desk viewing surveillance video.

&
nbsp; “What is it?” I ask as I look at the monitor.

  “This was recorded earlier,” he says, nodding to Banshee, who rewinds the footage. I watch as the workmen from downstairs make their way into the building with their equipment.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing,” I admit.

  “The whole time the crew has been working, it’s been six of them. And now, suddenly it’s eight,” Banshee points out.

  “Oh, could they have just added a few more guys because they need additional help?” I offer.

  “Look at the footage again,” Logan says as he signals for Banshee to rewind once again. I watch the same thing and I don’t notice—wait.

  “Two of the guys are wearing dress shoes,” I reply.

  “Yeah, I don’t think they’re really with the crew,” Logan says.

  “Shay, we have an idea to draw them out. We’ve been watching them all morning and they are waiting to get you alone. We can use that to our advantage and draw them out,” Banshee says.

  “Okay, how?” I ask.

  “It’s simple. You just leave the center, go across the street to the grocery store and buy something, and they will follow you out the back, where Logan and I will be waiting for them. Can you do that?” Banshee asks.

  “Do you think it’s a good play?” I ask Logan.

  “I’m not a fan of using you as bait, but Banshee and I already have the layout of the store from when we first set up, so we know what to expect. Banshee would go in before you so that he has eyes on you the whole time and I’ll be in the back, waiting for them. I think we’re covered. But what I think is second to the way you feel. Do you feel like this is something you can do?” he asks sincerely.

  “Go shopping? Um…yeah, I was made for this.” I smile. Logan frowns and catches my eyes. My heart skips when our eyes lock.

  “This isn’t a game. You need to tell me if you’re up for this,” he says.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Logan is about to say something but then thinks better of it. We’re left staring at each other. There’s so much to be said yet no words come.

  “Shay, are you ready?” Banshee asks.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, pulling away from Logan’s gaze.

  I allow the plan to play out. Banshee heads across the street and I wait a few minutes, then I walk out of the building too. It’s not long before the two men with the dress shoes follow me. My heart is racing and I’m cold even though it’s perfectly mild outside. I enter the small market and right away I spot Banshee over in the corner pretending to browse the shelves. The two men enter the shop and split up. One of them is approaching on my left, the other on my right. I do exactly as Logan said to: I head for the center, buy a magazine, and walk out the back way.

  As soon as I open the door, Logan hustles me into the awaiting car and tells me to drive off. Seconds later one of the “dress shoe” guys bursts into the alley, gun in hand, looking for me. Before he knows what’s happening, Logan sucker punches him in the face, throwing the guy off balance and causing the gun to fall out of his hand.

  The two of them wrestle for the gun. Logan gets kicked in the ribs, and he groans but manages to jab his attacker with an uppercut to the throat. Before he can recover, Logan grabs him by the collar and slams him into the ground. He kicks Logan in the knee, hard, causing Logan to fall forward. Both of them are on the ground, each trying desperately to gain the upper hand. Logan manages to get his hand around the guy’s neck and squeezes him until his face begins to turn blue.

  Just as the first attacker is about to pass out, the second attacker enters the alley, gun in hand, and shoots at Logan.

  “No!” I scream as the bullet flies overhead, narrowly missing Logan’s shoulder. The second attacker fires again and Logan is forced to take cover behind the large trash bin. The bullets fly in every direction and terror whips though me as I watch him corner Logan.

  Where the hell is Banshee?

  Logan tells me to drive away but that’s just not gonna happen. I put the car in reverse and go to back into the second attacker, who shoots at the back window.

  “Get down!” Logan says as he leaps into the air and tackles the gunman. Logan takes him down to the ground but not before he shoots off three rounds into the car. I duck down and listen as bullets whiz just above my head. The windows shatter and glass confetti rains down above my head.

  I keep my head down as low as I can while still trying to peek out what’s left of the back window. The second gunman is on the ground, crying in pain as Logan steps on his injured leg.

  “Logan, look out!” I shout as the first attacker sneaks up behind him, ready to shoot.

  Before he can pull the trigger, Banshee emerges from the store with a jagged makeshift bat. He strikes the gunman hard in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Banshee strikes him again and he crumbles to the ground. The second attacker goes for the gun on the ground, but it’s just out of his reach. Logan kicks him in the face, and blood bursts from his nostrils and spreads down his face. Both of my would-be attackers are out cold.

  A few hours later, after Wyatt comes to pick up the gunmen and everyone has gone home, Logan and I are in my office, where he’s scolding me.

  “Look, I know we had a plan but I wanted to make sure that you were okay,” I reply.

  “You were supposed to stick to the plan. You go out the back and drive off. You stayed there and you could have been killed,” he snaps.

  “You could have died too, that’s why I stayed.”

  “ARGH! Why don’t you just do what I ask, just this once?”

  “I was looking out for you. Why do you always look at that like it’s a bad thing?”

  “It’s not your job to look after me!” he barks.

  That hurts. I feel my chest tighten. He can see in my eyes just how much his words hurt.

  “I only meant that I can handle myself,” I say in a softer voice. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re Logan Hunter; you protect and serve. And God help the woman who dares to return the favor…”

  (Present)

  We spend hours at the police station filling out useless fucking paperwork and answering the same questions over and over again. That’s one thing I don’t miss about working out in the open. You could fucking drown in paperwork. You have to file a fucking report to ask permission to wipe your ass. That’s how fucking bad the bureaucracy is around here. When we are finally done, Wyatt takes us to one of the empty interrogation rooms.

  “You could have called me before you went ahead with your plan,” Wyatt scolds.

  “I handled it,” I reply.

  “You got caught in a shoot-out, that’s not handling it,” Wyatt replies. “Why didn’t you talk some sense into him?” he asks Shay.

  “It was kind of last minute and the plan was pretty simple.”

  “So why didn’t you follow it?” I ask her.

  “Oh, you mean why didn’t I drive off and let you get shot? No idea,” she replies sardonically.

  “I appreciate that you stayed behind for me but—” I begin.

  She holds out her hand and cuts me off. “No! That’s not how it’s done, Logan. You can’t say you appreciate what I did and then in the same breath scold me for it.”

  “Look, I’m glad you provided a distraction,” I reply.

  “Then maybe say ‘thank you’ and save the reprimand,” she snaps.

  “Thank you. There, happy?” I reply.

  “Argh! You are so difficult!” she accuses.

  “Me?! How hard is it to drive away, Shay?”

  “Are you seriously mad at me right now?” she demands. “You could have gotten hurt. I’m sorry that I’m not okay with that,” she counters heatedly.

  “Hey! Can we focus?” Wyatt demands.

  “Fine. What do you know about the guys that came after us?” she asks, making sure to turn her body so that I note she is no longer interested in talking to me.

  ARGH!

  “I know they
shot at us but they weren’t a real threat. How could they miss the shoe thing? That’s amateurish. I didn’t bring my gun because the store was full of customers but even without it, taking them down wasn’t as hard as it should have been,” I tell Wyatt.

  “I think I know why,” he says as he shows us the files he has on the guys we took down.

  “They’re low-level goons with no real skill. Why would the families send them?” I ask.

  “I had the same question you did. So I checked deeper into Malone’s background. He was cheating on his wife, had a couple of girls in fact. He abused them all. A few of them filed charges. They were later dropped but I think both families are tired of covering for Malone. In fact, according to the wiretap we have from a few days ago, they are vetting possible replacements for their beloved money guy.”

  “So the mob doesn’t care about Malone anymore, that’s good, right?” Shay asks. Wyatt and I exchange worried glances. Fuck.

  “Yes, in a way. It means he’s on his own. He has to show them he can take care of this problem but if he can’t and you testify against him, he’s not going to jail, he’s headed for the morgue,” I explain.

  “So, while he was eager before to shut you up, now it’s a matter of life and death for him. He has to take you out. Right now, it’s him or you,” Wyatt says.

  “That’s it, we’re leaving town. We’ll be back for the trial,” I conclude as I stand up.

  “What? No, what about the center?” Shay asks, getting up on her feet.

  “We are not arguing about this. We agreed if something happened—”

  She cuts me off. “Logan, you said those guys weren’t that much of a threat.”

  “So your plan is to wait around for the real bad guys to show up?” I ask.

  “We’re close to the trial. We can stay in town but just hide out here.”

  “What is it you don’t get? The families, both of them, are on the verge of killing Malone. The only way he can prove to them he’s worth the trouble is by clearing up his own mess. That means he needs you in the morgue. Do you get that?”