Chapter 29
Logan
“Ifeel like a fucking mummy.”
“Well, ya look like one too, so unless you got a hot date, shut the fuck up and sit down.”
“Rose,” I whine, sounding like a child, but I must look shocking.
Call me vain, but yeah, here we are. My face is bandaged up with old Irish healing herb poultices to bring down the swelling.
It’s working, and the pain isn’t as unbearable, but two days later, I could really do with just being a hundred percent fixed up and back to work.
Working from home has never been my thing.
Although the lack of company appeals to me, I feel I have a lack of motivation. Home is home. Work is work.
“Sit,” she commands, and I do as she says, grateful when there is a knock at the door.
My heart leaps into my throat as I sit up straighter. “Rue,” I murmur. Please let it be Rue. There is absolutely no way I can allow myself to hope it is Serena standing on the other side of the door.
Rising to answer it, I stall halfway, hovering over the sofa, when Rose yells, “Sit yer fecking arse down, you fecking stubborn cunt. I’ve got it.”
Holding my hands up in surrender, I plant my ass back down, turning to face the front door with bated breath.
“Oh, it’s you. Come on in, I guess.”
Frowning, I see it’s Guy. I’m not sure how I feel about him right now. His action got my ass handed to me by the uncle of the woman I’m falling in love with. Ignoring the enormity of that wayward thought, I sit back and fold my arms over my chest when he lets out a loud guffaw at the sight of me.
“Why did you let him in?” I complain to Rose. “And why are you even here?”
“You’ve not been answering my messages.”
“Been kind of busy not being able to see.”
“What happened?”
“A lot. But none of it is important. What have you got for me?”
“A lot. Can we go upstairs?”
The drop in his volume gets me to my feet. “Sorry, Rose, I’m taking this off for now. You can wrap me up again later.”
Pulling the bandages off and leaving them on the coffee table in an herbal-smelling heap, I lead Guy upstairs. My sight is much better, but I’m still struggling to focus on small words like text messages.
Turning to face him, his wince does nothing to assure me I look any better, even though I know I do. I was an absolute mess a few days ago.
My ribs ache from the trek up the stairs, making it look like I’m in no pain, so I fold my arms over my abdomen, gripping the side of my white tee for support.
Guy lowers his voice even more than before. “It’s big. They found him.”
It takes me a second to register what he said before the blood rushes to my head, making it swim in a tumultuous whirlpool of nauseating emotion. “What?”
He nods. “You look like you need to sit.”
Stumbling to the bed, I lower myself, my heart hammering in my chest.
“His name is Clifford Stanley. He is currently incarcerated at the supermax in Glenridge for multiple counts of murder.”
Remaining as still as a statue, I have no idea what to do with this information. “When?” I croak eventually.
“Five years ago. He was completely off the grid until he made a massive mistake, and they got his fingerprints on file…”
He explains it to me, but I barely hear a word. All I know is that they picked up a partial from the handle of the knife, and it came back a match.
From this jumble of words, I have deduced two things.
One mostly, but two. I can’t get to him in Glenridge.
Solitaire might, but that’s a stretch I’m not willing to risk my life for.
Not now, not when Serena needs me. The revelation that I’m putting her needs before my own is vomit-inducing in itself, but that’s where I’ve landed, and that’s where I’m staying, apparently.
“Put it back,” I choke, interrupting him, voicing my second thought.
“What?”
“Put it back into evidence. If he is already serving, I can get him the death sentence.”
“I don’t…I can’t…not in my wheelhouse. If you want me to hack the evidence room, I’m your man, but sneaking in to replace stolen evidence, which by the way, has massive chain breakage if it’s caught, is a no. You need to find someone else.”
“Where is it?”
“DWP labs.”
Nodding, I get to my feet. I guess it’s time to sweep everything under the carpet, grab hold of my balls and call Quen as if nothing has happened.
“Have it prepped for pick up in the exact same state as when it arrived. Do a sweep while you’re here as well, please.”
“No, need, you’re clean. Also, you might need to reset your internet in about two minutes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just do it and know any bugs that are here are dead. I’ll clean up another time. Your housekeeper scares me.”
Hurting my face by letting out a loud laugh which I sorely needed, I nod. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be pleased.”
“No doubt.”
Guy disappears down the stairs, and I pick up my phone. I made a grave error in judgment by calling Serena the other day. But I’ve had no blowback, so I can only imagine Quen doesn’t know about it.
Dialing, he picks up a moment later. “Logan.”
“I need your help.”
“Oh?”
“The gift you gave me needs to be returned. No questions asked, just back where it came from.”
“Where is it?”
“DWP.”
“Consider it done. I’ll be in touch.”
He hangs up as I let out a low growl. I’m so done with him and his favors owed, but this is now out of my hands.
While not impossible, killing an inmate at Glenridge is too much of a chain to get done.
I can use my influence to reopen the case and go about this the right way.
Putting my revenge to bed destroys my soul that bit more, and I give a thought to my family to whom justice is owed.
But I know Serena would want me to do this the right way.
My feelings for her have surpassed anything else, mainly because I have feelings for her. Even my revenge was a cold-blooded lack of emotion. More a desperate need to punish those who inflicted damage on me. It’s hard to define, but it comes back to want and need. I want revenge, but I need Serena.