Ellie
Two weeks later
“This home is gorgeous. Is Eric’s boss moving in or out? I mean, the man who greeted us at the door just flung it open and walked away. We could rob this place blind. Not that we’d have anything to steal,” I prod jokingly at my best friend Norah; it’s with much less humor than when we walked in a bit ago and my jaw dropped when I noticed how barren of life it is.
No furniture, no paintings on the wall, no television. It’s completely empty.
There was one room with a locked wooden door at the far end of the hall upstairs. I’m assuming it’s the master bedroom since none of the others appeared to be.
The style is unusual for the Westbank of New Orleans too. It’s a remarkable log cabin home you’d generally see settled at the foot of the mountains in Colorado. High vaulted ceilings. Wood beams throughout the entire place. It’s rustic and to be able to decorate it would be beyond my wildest dreams.
I let out a trembling sigh, place my hand on the smooth wooden staircase railing and descend the stairs.
“I’m not sure; he owns Behind Closed Doors. I already told you this. Maybe the guy is redecorating. I don’t know, ask Eric.” There is something in how Norah is quick and to the point, something that sets me off balance in her attitude and it doesn’t have to do with the club the man owns. She’s lying about something; I can sense it in the air, smell it all over her. The scent is so strong it practically fills my nose.
“Forget it, it’s not my business.” I wave it off; it’s not like I’ll be coming back anytime soon anyway.
Eric is a friend of ours we met a few years ago after he moved into the apartment above the coffee shop in our neighborhood. He’s a bartender at Behind Closed Doors and working at this party. He said his boss told all his employees they could invite whoever they wanted, which now, after Norah’s weird behavior, I’m beginning to wonder if she didn’t drag me here to meet a guy.
A guy for her, not me.
Behind Closed Doors isn’t just a club either; it’s a sex club for swingers. It’s what Eric calls the whole sexual experience, and here I am standing in the middle of one of the Kingpin’s homes. A worshipped pimp from my understanding.
I might have recently had a one-night stand with a man I don’t know, a man that drudged up the worst memory, but that type of lifestyle scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I would never have sex in front of someone else, let alone multiple partners.
But that’s me.
I wave off the weird vibes floating off my best friend, my thoughts drifting to this stunning house.
This home is meant to impress, all open and airy, it’s ravishing. There’s something about the intricately designed place with high ceilings and impeccable detail that screams dangerous and lonely. Like if you made a tiny gap in the shiny hardwood floor, it would leak story after story that would tinge a beautiful soul with sadness before turning it the blackest of black.
This place reminds me of the happiest and worst days of my life.
Unlike this home that could use some tender loving care, I used to live in a gorgeous decorated house that was bright and lively. It screamed life despite being too big for a family of three.
Until one day it was nothing but cold, damp and empty.
It started the day my mother died at the age of forty-two from early onset Alzheimer’s. I was seven. It was less than two years after the diagnosis when her mind surrendered to the disease, and from there on, she declined rapidly. She lost her memory of who I was; it was even harder a year later because when she died, a part of my father died too, the part that made the man care he had a daughter to look after.
It wasn’t until I turned twelve when he introduced me to a woman named Elizabeth that I got my tentative father back. Elizabeth and her two children, Whitney, who was the same age as me and her son Shadow, who was two years older, brought life into our house.
After the two of them married, Whitney and I did everything together; she was the sister I never had. And Shadow, after a while, his true colors came out. He was the perfect definition of what his name meant. A dark shape that follows everywhere you go.
I was polite and friendly to him when we were around our parents. The minute we stepped out of their sight, I avoided him at all costs.
He was a constant unwanted observer. A psycho who I knew was trouble. For the sake of my father’s happiness, I kept the way he acted at school and the rumors that followed him like the disease he was to myself.
Doing so was the worst mistake I ever made.
Then one day, my life crumbled. Whitney and I came home from school to find reporters surrounding the gates leading to the house, police officers inside, my stepmother sitting stoically and without tears in my father’s favorite chair and Shadow sitting smugly by her side.
Grief and sorrow.
They seeped into my veins and clung all over the faces of my family’s employees.
And there was absolutely nothing that could have prepared me for the shattering news that came out of the detective’s mouth. My father was dead.
He and several business associates died in an explosion on one of his oil rigs. A freak accident that left me an orphan at an early age.
The investigators ruled it accidental. If it wouldn’t have been for some of the other men who died, families being satisfied with the ruling, I’d have thought they were murdered, especially after the things that went on the minute the case closed.
It wasn’t a few short days later; I overheard Elizabeth talking with Shadow. She went on and on about how in a few short years, Shadow was to leave for training for his birthright next to her brother, and he needed to behave himself until the time came. Elizabeth was the sister of an Irish mobster, and after I heard her, it didn’t take long to put two and two together.
I ran to my room and recalled the happenings around our home before my father died. Elizabeth must have persuaded and turned him into a dishonest man; he became involved in some shady business deals with some even shadier people. At the time of the investigation, I didn’t quite understand what the detective meant when he’d ask me questions about my father’s business.
Elizabeth is nothing but a poisonous black widow who played on my father’s grief of never getting over losing my mother.
Things declined from that day forward. I could hear them whispering behind my back. My mother’s jewelry disappeared from the safe in my father’s office. Shadow became more of a stalker, and the three of them spent money on unnecessary things. Before I knew it, I became an unwanted girl in my own house.
She got rid of everyone and everything that meant anything to me. No more household staff who were like family, because they were all fired. Every single one in a blink of my young girl eye.
My entire life as I knew it stripped away. Elizabeth and her devil children sold everything in an estate sale to the highest bidder and when I screamed and fought and attacked, letting them know how cruel they were. They laughed in my face and let me know my father’s oil business was handed over to her family. From there it would be sold. My legacy and the hard work my father put into owning a successful business was gone.
Then Elizabeth shoved me into the system with nothing but my wealthy-known last name. I was all alone and rightfully scared.
The thought of how scared I was makes me want to weep.
Thankfully, after two months of living in foster care, I was saved by our family’s cook — the woman who taught my mother and me so much about life. Renita Williamson fumed her way into social services and demanded they place me in her care. It was a quick transfer for Renita to become my guardian due to my age and the fact I knew her.
“Are you sure this dress isn’t too short?” I tug down the hem of my deep purple backless lace dress and loop my hand through Norah’s arm, shoving away the weird feeling that things still don’t seem right.
I don’t know why I care about the way I look, because frankly, I could give a shit what others think about me. Maybe it’s the Bentleys, the Maserati’s, parked in the driveway. Reminding me of the times evil men would drive up and enter our home as if they owned it.
My father used to tell me not to worry, that everything he was doing was securing a future for me. I believed him because not once had he ever lied to me, not even the times when he came home drunk after my mother died.
No, those nights were when he was the most honest. Crying and telling me how sorry he was that he couldn’t find his way back to me.
“Please don’t ask me about the dress being short again. If you do, I’m going to rip it off and expose the hottest body I’ve ever seen on a woman. Also, if it makes you feel better, if I weren’t into men, you and I would be married by now, and when people asked what attracted me to you, I’d say have you seen her legs? They are tone and long. How about her ass, you really can bounce a quarter off it, trust me, I’ve done it, and don’t even get me started on her rack, because, cleavage.” Norah smiles, her grin full and sly.
“Oh, shut up; you work out as much as me.” I slap her hard on the ass.
My heels click on the marble floor as we walk through the empty dining room and into the loggia that overlooks an Olympic sized pool.
My jaw drops. There are at least a dozen red velvet couches, tables with candles, bartenders making drinks, and red drapes that surround what appears to be private little cabanas.
It’s an outdoor paradise that screams seduction. I suck in a breath, feet wobbling, body in confused chaos. If this is a sex party, I’m no longer going to have a best friend, given that; I’ll kill her.
Thanks to my overactive mind as a child, a father who loved skeet shooting and taught me, I’m a perfect shot. I’ll nail her between her pretty deep brown eyes. Not really, but I’ll be angry.
My palms turn damp and sweat beads at the nape of my neck. A peculiar sense that I’d been here before tugs at my awareness, all the while I’m confident I’d remember this place if I had.
Nervously, I straighten my shoulders, swallow, rub the pads of my fingertips against my thighs as we step out into the open. My nerves fray and float away in the wind — apprehension tugging at my temple.
“Norah, what in the ever-loving hell is going on?” I breathe hard through my nose to temper down the angry vibration of my muscles, the rage bubbling in my veins ready to boil any minute.
“I don’t know.”
She’s lying again, and I am pissed.
Women who were laughing a second ago, stop and glare our way, their beady little eyes raking up and down Norah and me in contempt, scowls on their judgmental faces before they turn up their noses, carry on in conversation and sip on champagne in designer dresses and expensive shoes, diamonds and gems draping off their necks and ears.
Bitches. I hate women who act like they are better than others.
Men in expensive suits give us the once-over, and rest their gazes on our breasts, licking their lips and flashing shiny Rolex watches on their wrists before bringing a crystal tumbler to their mouth.
I’m not impressed.
These are the types of people giving me another reminder of why I hate money. Not that I care who they are, or what they do, I don’t; it’s the way they think they are better than everyone else. The way the men hold back no reserve as their gaze strips me naked.
“Jesus, I need a drink, like a double shot of the good strong stuff,” I whisper, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable in my skin.
I take a deep breath. I don’t like it here at all.
I narrow my eyes and look around, a deep instinct controlling my body. Someone here is staring at me with intent to harm. Well, whoever they are, they won’t see my dread. I’ve masked it well.
The corners of my mouth draw up slightly into a genuine smile when something catches my eye.
“Wow. Now that is nature’s beauty.” I’m thankfully drawn from my nerve-racking surroundings as I take in the view beyond the house. Lush green trees decorated in twinkling lights line a walkway leading to a wide open area lined with magnolia trees in cream and white.
I’ve only seen one other field full of something as beautiful in my life.
I damn near topple onto the ground as a memory arises.
“Come on, Daddy, let’s pick Mommy some of our favorite flowers.” I ran ahead of him through the field of purple, blue, white, red, and pink blossoms, my ponytail swishing behind me.
“I’ll race you, Bluebonnet, last one there is a rotten egg.”
I look beyond the field filled with hundreds of blossoming magnolia trees as I absorb some of the best memories of my life and what I see is just as mesmerizing.
I let out a melancholy breath and watch the sunset with an unwavering gaze as the fiery bright orange orb slowly sinks. Threads of light linger and spread across the sky, blending with the rolling clouds, and streaks of red, orange, gold, and blue swirl until all that’s left of the sunset is a color palette of dusty light mauves.
It’s almost as stunning as a sunset behind Pleasure Pier in Galveston, Texas where I grew up, a place that will forever hold some of the best and worst memories of my life.
But my awe-inspiring view becomes obstructed when a very tall man comes into sight. My breath catches in the back of my throat, and that knowing knowledge of being here in the past kicks me in my teeth, just as a hard magnetic pull unravels through my veins.
Tugging and pulling and making me damn near stagger.
The man approaching us is like a dark silhouette walking straight out of the horizon.
The crowd quiets and everyone parts like the Red Sea.
My eyes slowly crawl upward, long legs, thick muscular thighs hidden underneath a black tailored suit. A crisp white shirt covers what I know are abs made of steel and his sculpted chest and shoulders are all tucked away beneath his matching suit jacket.
I stop breathing when I get to his magnificent face. One filled with scruff I know all too well is softer than it should be, and he is staring directly at me.
He’s caught me off guard, and he knows it, judging by the hint of arrogance in his eyes.
Damn it. That’s twice in a matter of weeks I’ve been captured in this man’s spell.
The power that swirls around him as he approaches is overwhelming as his bright green eyes take me in like a caress across my skin.
I become lost in the translation of his command.
His head tilts to the side, those eyes wandering fast, up and down my body so penetrating it makes me want to hike up my skirt, jump in the pool and cool off. Or drown him and my deceiving friend I can feel shaking in her skin next to me.
This man holds some terrifying power amongst these people. Well, he’s in for a rude awakening because I won’t let him know he’s dangling it over me.
His mouth, the same one that kissed me everywhere a few weeks ago, twists into an over-confident grin — an invitation welcoming me into his house of sin.
“There you are, I was wondering if you’d make it. Good to see you again, Norah. So we meet again. Hello, Ellie. I’m Logan Mitchell.”
No. He can’t be.
I’m utterly speechless when I’d love to tell him sarcastically that he is a son of a bitch, but his sultry rough voice glues my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
Damn Norah and Eric for putting me in an unwanted position; I should hate them both for this, Norah, especially.
Logan’s nostrils flare, dark eyebrows lifting, and something similar to disgust flashes from the depths of his eyes, his mouth turning down as he twists his muscular body and scans the crowd before rotating once again and locking his green pools on my outraged blues.
I’ve no idea if people are gawking at us, but by the way his posture went from relaxed to an angry stiffen, I would say yes.
I don’t care. Every single one of them can fuck themselves.
An overwhelming surge of heat rushes through me as his gaze lands on my mouth, setting my skin on fire.
He’s drawing me in like a sedative. One you need, yet your mind is afraid of what will happen once you are pulled into the dark.
He’s the reason why this place feels familiar. Logan Mitchell is the man I went home with, the man who brushed his big hands across every inch of me as if he knew the places on my body to set me aflame. Technically he probably does. Logan is the man whose name I never asked for, the same as he never asked for mine. He blew into my life like a storm — thunder and lightning knocking my sanity into a spool of want and need and consumption.
He’s someone I never wanted to see again.
He made me feel in ways I never saw coming. He took the hollowed out woman in me and filled me up with the passion and attention I needed for just one night, and he’s Eric’s boss? The man just about every woman in New Orleans wants. The man just as many men despise as wish they were him — a man who is paid top dollar to teach women how to please a man.
A glorified male whore.
The only time I’ve ever gone home with a man, and he’s the one. Oh, God. Not only am I embarrassed, I feel absolutely sick to my stomach.
“The one and only Ellie Wynn.” Norah breaks up the tension, lets go of me and turns toward Logan. “I’m uh, just going to grab a drink and let Eric know we’re here. Usual for you Ellie, Logan would you care for something?”
I nod, unable to form a word. Afraid if I do, it will be answered with my foot up her ass and a palm across Logan’s handsome face.
“I’ll have a Budweiser; thank you.”
Shocking, the man does manners underneath his walls of muscle.
I take Logan in. God, he’s beautiful and he’s wearing a smug look that says ‘I’m the kind of man who gets what I want, and at the moment, it’s you.’
Well, screw him, he will not have me ever again. Especially now that I know who he is. But that’s not all I know about Logan Mitchell, and by the hard stare he’s giving me, it’s clear he knows it too.
Bastard. Liar and deceiving pig.
Tonight, he’s much different from the jean-wearing man I met. But it’s him — the very man who I’ve thought about many times. The man who has had me losing sleep at night because I’m scared right out of my skin — the man who has me wanting to burn a hole by telling him off right through my tongue.
I hate him.
I want him.
I’m scared of him.
My heart clatters against my ribcage and my panicky breathing speeds to dangerous levels. I suddenly feel light-headed, and my mouth is ignoring my brain’s instructions to at least acknowledge the man. I stare while he stares back at me. Those forest green eyes are overflowing with something like admiration.
They spear right through me in a way I don’t want them to. Bursting with confidence, with a softness, and if I’m not mistaken, a little bit of worry.
“Welcome to my home. It’s good to see you again.”
For him, maybe. Not for me.
“Even though it’s empty and reminds me of a dark dank awaiting tomb, it’s lovely.” I found my voice. It’s sarcastic and rightfully so.
His muscular chest shakes with light laughter, and shit, what a chest it is. Big and rumbling with strength.
“You’ve got a quick mouth on you, Ellie. I like it. It makes me wonder what else it can do.” The intensity grows in his eyes while his words hit me between my thighs.
Throbbing.
The night he brought me here, he melted my panties. Tonight, no matter how much he tries charming me, they won’t be coming off.
“You’ll never know.”
“We both know I will.”
No, he will not.
“Speaking of having a quick mouth. Here’s something you can chew on and swallow. I won’t submit to anyone. If I want you, I’ll have you. If I don’t, I won’t. You, you’re a…” Shit. I can’t even force the word, and I refuse to bend to his patronization. Him trying, pours more gasoline to the raging fire burning within.
“A male whore? Is that what you’re trying to say? I was one, Ellie. I haven’t been in almost a year.”
Possessiveness surges. Hard and heavy that it consumes my mind. I want to punch every woman he’s had before me. It’s a crazy notion when I don’t even know this man.
Logan takes hold of my hand that’s dangling at my side and drops a kiss across each of my knuckles, dancing eyes searching mine. His touch is soft, familiar, intimate, and my skin tingles where his lips graze.
“I sense there’s more your gorgeous mouth would like to say to me. Perhaps go to hell? Fuck off? Maybe what the hell is going on? Why was I at a dance club the night I brought you here and had the best sex of my life when I could have been at my club? Would you like to know what I’d like to say to you?” He reaches up and strokes my cheek.
No, I really wouldn’t. The man already has my mind traveling back in time. Right back to ten years ago.
“I’d like to tell you to get on your hands and knees, to spread those sweet thighs, pull my hair when I bury my tongue in between them. I’d like to know if our night together was as good for you as it was for me. I love to tell you to scream; only this time saying my name when I make you come.”
I roll my eyes and swallow, pressing my thighs together as memories of him asking me to do all but the last assault me in the spot his intention wanted to hit.
Logan Mitchell, I knew the name, but on him, I like it— Bossy, sexy, overly confident, dangerous. Most importantly, he’s one of Shadow’s friends.
My stomach curdles, and bile churns.
I also can’t help the way my tongue betrays me by unhurriedly darting out and running across my bottom lip, instead of telling him whatever game he’s playing is pissing me off. My body wants to thrust me forward to taste his lips, while my rational brain jerks me back in. Being reckless again isn’t going to keep me safe.
“You might not be anymore, that doesn’t mean what you did was right. I’m curious, how many people would I have to perform this sex act on, in front of or, would you be between my legs while another man was thrusting himself inside my mouth? Maybe, I’d be the student you’d put in the middle of the class and bend over your desk.”
Steam. I see it rolling off him and within seconds anger charges in the air.
I keep right on pushing because my peace of mind has to know if the one man who destroyed me is here.
“Where’s Shadow? Is he going to emerge the same as you?” The mere idea of anyone, regardless if they’re a snob or not admiring that piece of shit the way they did Logan is enough to split me in two.
I shake my head, my fury and disgust rotting my insides.
“Here you two go.”
I jerk my hand from his, accept my drink from Norah, feeling the uneasiness in her stare where it rests on the side of my face. Ignoring them both, I turn toward the pool, rather rudely, letting them carry on while I toss back my tequila, and brace a hand on the couch in front of me. Tuning them out entirely and examining my shoes. Suddenly feeling so far out of my comfort zone, I let out a silent scream.
More so for falling into bed with a stranger when I knew. God, I knew I’d seen his face before. After I showered the night I left here, I wanted to pack my bags and run, knowing my past had caught up with me. I may have never spoken to Logan before, but I remember him sitting in the passenger seat of Shadow’s car several times while I stood in front of the big picture window after I moved in with Renita. Unintimidated and glaring as my stalker ex-stepbrother tried to frighten me.
Logan picked me up knowing who I was, he’s up to something, and I won’t let him become aware of my fear.
A gasp rips from my mouth, and my racing pulse hits dangerous speeds when two large hands cage me in — the oxygen-depleting from my lungs.
I look down at those hands, big and strong, and lose reason when Logan presses up against me. His erection thick and long. Warmth hitting the flesh on my back, a sense of security as he cocoons me in. I had my own hands exploring every inch of his body, every dip and valley of his firm muscular stomach and shoulders. And his cock, my God, how I wanted to run my tongue up the length of it.
I need to get the hell out of here before I lose my sanity.
“I’m sorry. If you want me on my hands and knees begging for forgiveness, then I’ll do it. You don’t know me, Ellie, but I’ll tell you, I’m not used to women speaking to me like that. Your spitfire temper turns me on. For your peace of mind, Shadow isn’t here.” His lips graze my ear, hot breath causing me to shiver in excitement and fear.
I’m sure he doesn’t. They probably drop to his feet and chant out ‘what can we do to please you, oh mighty one?’
I slip from his grasp, attempting to regain my composure before I turn around and face him. The last thing I need for him to see is how my mind is tossing me right back into my past.
Shit, I never should have turned around.
Logan is gorgeous. He’s also the wrong man for me. Yet, everything about the way he looks at me with adoration feels oh, so right. Like our paths were meant to cross.
“Right. As if I’d ever believe a word you say.”
He goes to kneel and my jaw drops.
“Stop.” I laugh when there is nothing to laugh about.
Emotions throw themselves into the mix as Logan closes the space between us.
Fear. Lust. Anger. Confusion.
“God, that laugh, such a beautiful sound. Whether you believe me or not, I had no idea you would be at the bar the night I brought you home with me. I asked Norah and Eric not to say anything about this being my party because they knew as much as I did, you wouldn’t have come. She went to talk to Eric. I wanted to see you again. I want to take you out. Spend time with you. Get to know each other. You can’t deny what we had was more than just physical. And, the only man you’ll be performing for will be me, if another man touches or sees what’s underneath this dress, I will hunt him down, slice off his balls and force him to shove them down his throat before I cut off every finger and shove them up his ass.”
His lips press a kiss to the back of my head, sending tingles rushing as he breathes me in.
“You remind me of my flowers. Free and beautiful and resilient. I might be a dominant man, Ellie. However, it’s not by wrapping a collar around your neck and tugging you behind me. I’d prefer to have you walk with your gorgeous head high by my side.”
My mind whirls in confusion and chaos while my heart rate picks up and forgotten dreams of belonging to someone and them to me hit me from his last sentence.
I can’t let Logan seduce me. He’d shatter me. Wreck me and mutilate those dreams the second he decided I wasn’t enough to keep him from wanting other women.
“You’re wrong; I’m not any of those things, and you don’t know me well enough to tell me who I allow to touch me. I won’t be going anywhere with you, as in ever. Don’t try and manipulate me; I’m not a fool, Logan. You knew who I was and you played me. Please, if you haven’t told Shadow where I am, I beg you, please don’t.” I pant, my lungs trying to gulp in the air that suddenly becomes too thin. This is too deep, too profound, too damn confusing. Most of all, it’s hurting me in ways only others that went through what I did can understand.
Devastation. It threatens to wreck me all over again.
“Never. I’m not a spy for Shadow. You have my word on that. You don’t know me well enough to find out just what I’ll do if someone touches you, but I want you too. You aren’t a fool. You’re the most beautiful, sassy, sophisticated woman I’ve seen and I want to know every little thing about you. You’re a survivor.”
“No. You and I don’t mix.” He’s a whore for shit’s sake. One the police turn a blind eye to.
Logan Mitchell is trouble.
“Wrong, Ellie. We do, and that’s what has your panties in a twist. That is if you’re wearing any. Should I check?” He surveys me and smirks as my face flares with a heated flush.
“You’re a real asshole; you know that?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I do. I’m finally seeing the woman that left my bed without a goodbye. When I realized you left, I couldn’t go back to sleep, I laid there and thought of your beautiful face and figured you must have caught on to who I was. I can’t stop thinking of the way you screamed when I fucked you. The way you had no idea how rich I am and even if you did, you would have wanted me for me and not the things you thought I’d give you. You haven’t left my mind. I’d kind of like to spend time with you, and by time, I don’t mean picking you up off the ground after you passed out from not breathing. Although, giving you mouth to mouth wouldn’t be a problem. Breathe, Ellie.”
I should be chock full of disgust at him and me. Instead, my mind follows along with imagining his mouth on mine again. His body on top of me or to sit out here amongst the flowers and trees and just talk.
“Please, don’t. What we did was something I’ve never done before. I want you to leave me alone.”
Humorous laughter rolls from him as he runs a finger up my spine and grips the back of my neck.
My entire body shivers in ecstasy.
“Somehow, I find that last sentence to be a lie. I get why you wouldn’t believe a word I’m saying. I’m not that man anymore. Please, can we meet and talk? Give me a chance to explain. You want me, don’t deny it. I bet if I stuck my hands between your legs, you’d coat my fingers with the juices from your sweet pussy.”
God, he’s an arrogant, dirty mouth, irresistible asshole. A bad, bad man through and through.
And one-hundred percent right.
“If I weren’t positive one of your friends or many fuck toys here wouldn’t stuff me full of bullets before the sting hit my palm, I’d slap you. A friend of Shadow’s is no friend of mine.” My heart rocks in fear, and I detest it, hate that Logan has this kind of influence over me to draw it out. God, I want to kick my ass for going home with him.
Never again will I be so stupid and drawn toward a man’s seductive words, a masculine face and a body packed with muscles.
“We aren’t going to discuss who I fuck unless I’m fucking you.”
“What?” I teeter on my feet, crossing my arms over my chest — stupid move. Logan’s eyes divert down to my breasts. My nipples harden under his dark stare.
“You are an overconfident prick.” I need to calm down before I get right in this man’s face and cause a scene.
That’s the thing though about being bitter after life dealt you a shitty hand, you tend to not put up with shit from anyone. At least I don’t.
“I’m that and more. I’ve done terrible things, and I’ll continue, it’s in my blood. One thing I’m not is a man like Shadow.”
“And you expect me to believe you? Fat-fucking chance.”
A blow of terror and knowledge and self-destruction shoot through my veins. It’s obvious he knows what Shadow did to me.
I feel sick and used. It pelts on me with the force of a hail storm. I’m in no way prepared to talk about it with him. Possibly never.
“I’ll take that chance and prove you wrong, sweetheart. I’ll let you go, for now. I’m going to get to know you. I’m going to have you again and again. Next time I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name. I’m a man who always gets what he wants and make no mistake, Ellie; I want you.”
Shudders multiply, spreading fire down my spine, shivers scatter, winding me up and up until my body heats and flames.
“You’re either lying or hiding something from me. I’m not the woman I used to be. I lost my entire world. I’ve been trampled on, and brutally raped. A violation to not only my body, my mind too, and if you think you can take me on a ride and drop me off where nightmares live, then you underestimate me. Tell Shadow, Whitney, and Elizabeth if they come near me I will make them pay for what they did to my father and me.”
A blanket of guilt covers Logan whole. The man is full of blame.
God, I need to stop being a bitch and give this man the benefit of the doubt. It’s so hard when I’m scared.
“Elizabeth is dead. She died about five years ago. I’d prefer not to discuss Shadow in public, you are safe from him, Ellie. I give you my word on that.”
Safe? I haven’t truly felt it in years, but for some unexplained reason, I believe Logan. Still, my fear will get the best of me until Shadow takes his last breath.
I attempt to regain my composure and scan the crowd when I want to bend forward in hysterics over Elizabeth, over Logan, over the irony that has tilted my world upside down and left me dangling in thin air.
A choked laugh catches in my throat. Dreams really do come true, at least partially. I don’t need to know how the witch died, as long as she’s dead. “Good, that means she’s rotting in hell. The only way I’ll ever be safe from the man is if he’s rotting next to his mother.”
I take several breaths, trying to get it together while Logan stands completely still. His bottle of beer hanging from the tips of his fingers.
I’m crazy to wish he’d drop that bottle and take me in his arms. To whisper over and over the promises I’m safe. To let it sink in.
“He isn’t dead. He isn’t in New Orleans either. Listen, Ellie. I’m sorry I scared you. Please, can we go talk? I don’t want you leaving here with a fist full of worry.”
The last is so much easier said than done.
A woman catches my eye, looking at Logan like he hangs the moon, and me as the woman who just strolled in to cause a scene. I’d like to thank her for momentarily pulling my mind back together. To remind me that I don’t know Logan. He could be lying as far as I know.
“A woman is glaring at me; she better not be your wife or girlfriend.”
I’d ask the Devil to take my soul if she is.
“Whoever it is, it’s neither. I don’t have a wife or girlfriend.”
I wait for him to turn around and see who I’m talking about, it doesn’t come. Probably because he can feel all of them at his back, it’s hard not to.
“I don’t know what you want with me. I mean, look at these people, then look at me. I’m not like them.”
I don’t bother looking at him. I can feel his displeasure and anger at my words leak right out of him.
Confusion and madness and mayhem twirl my brain like a spinning top.
This is all just too much.
“No Ellie, you’re not and that’s what makes you so damn perfect. I won’t stop coming after you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
I’m swimming in a river full of shock to speak anymore. I hold my pose, my heart slamming like a ping-pong ball in my chest.
Anxiety and panic. They are wretched things, and they overpower me.
“I’m sorry. Every time Shadow and I pulled away from your house, I told myself it was the last time I’d go, but then I thought about what he might do if I didn’t tag along. A part of me has blamed myself for what he did. I don’t underestimate you; I admire you.”
God, who is this man standing before me with anguish dripping from his every word? I swear I can physically feel his guilt and hear his pain. It’s gnawing at the noise in my head.
Horrid memories try pushing in. I block them out; I can’t talk about what happened to me, not in front of people who would likely laugh at me, dropping to my knees.
“What happened to me isn’t your fault.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I knew how out of his head Shadow was for you.”
I’ve never had a one-night stand until Logan. I’ve never been with a man in my life. Not willingly anyway, and as I watch him walk away, leaving me with piles of questions and head in the direction of the gray stoned guest house, I’m scared agreeing to that night is going to ruin the strong and independent woman I am.
On second thought, it already has.