11
Lia
Avague thought of flight takes hold of me when I glance at the window, then just as quickly dissipates. Aurora is in the car downstairs, and of course, I’d never leave her. Not in a million years.
Logan promised me he wouldn’t hurt her, and I guess I believe him. But it occurs to me that he’s holding her hostage. Maybe he doesn’t mean to, but that’s what’s happening. I can’t leave, because they’ve got her.
I hurry into the red dress, desperate to find her little hand again. Desperate to fold it in mine, and never let it go.
In fact, I’m so desperate that I don’t even think of Logan again until I feel his hand grip my wrist the moment I step outside the bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls.
I glance at him. The pallor in his face that had freaked me out before is gone. Now, he’s back to being the snide, cruel man who seems amused at my anger and pain.
“Let me go, you asshole!” I fume.
Old habits die hard. I’m terrified, I’m helpless, and I’m insulting him. In fact, the more I feel those two things—terror and helplessness—the angrier it makes me, and the more I want to yell at him.
I never yelled at Carmelo. I never dared. Logan scares me far more, and yet… I want to hurt him.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Let me go.”
“Uh huh.” His smirk deepens. There’s no sign of the wounded boy anymore. He’s all harsh mockery. “Still just as much of a brat as ever, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a brat,” I snap.
He takes a step closer, and the warmth of his body inches from mine makes me feel a little lightheaded. “I take it your husband doesn’t spank you any more than your daddy did, huh, Lia? Seems to me a brat like you needs a good spanking.”
“Fuck you!” I say again, anger making me shake.
If only you knew exactly what my husband does to me!
I bet Logan does know that Carmelo beats me. He just doesn’t care. Why would he?
He pins me against the wall, his hand sliding up my thigh, lifting the hemline of my dress.
I stifle a gasp. Then another one when his stiffness presses into me.
So this is happening. This time it’s happening.
Do it, Lia. You can do it. Buy your safety.
But instead of going further up to the space between my legs—the space that I suddenly realize in confusion is throbbing—he reaches behind me, grabbing onto the same place on my ass that he tortured last night.
“You need to get a little more creative with your insults,” he hisses at me.
And then he pinches.
“Logan! Ow! Fuck!”
I’m standing in tiptoes again, trying to get relief from the burn, but all it does is hurt more. He doesn’t let go for what feels like an eternity, his fingers gripping and digging at my flesh. When he finally does, I sag, panting hard, my head falling against his chest without even thinking.
The first thought that does come to my mind is… this feels good.
His chest is hard and broad, and warm, and even though I know the cruelty and danger that he represents, all I can think is that right now, I feel safe in his arms.
The second thought I have is: what is wrong with me?
I spring back, and just have enough time to realize that I’ve wet his shirt before he looks down at my face. A glint in his eyes, part cruelty, part hunger, makes me shiver.
“You’re crying,” he whispers. “I like it when you cry.”
He bends down and… licks a long stripe up my face.
“Logan!” I gasp. Then I shiver again when he leans his head against my neck.
“You’re a real little pain slut, aren’t you? I’m gonna have a lot of fun hurting you before I hand you back to your husband tonight. And I’m going to have even more fun watching him hurt you.”
“Logan…”
This time his name comes out as a pleading whisper. I tear myself away from him, trying to keep the tears from bubbling over, but he grabs me by the chin and forces me to look up at him.
All I can do is stare mutely as tears slide down my face. I can feel his dick swelling against me as he reaches up, drying each tear with a finger that he then sucks into his mouth.
“You’re a fucking sadist,” I tell him, anger coming to the fore again.
He smirks. “Yes, Lia. Yes, I am. Unfortunately for you.”
_
“Took you long enough,” grunts the mobster waiting by the side of the car, one of Carmelo’s nameless goons.
I let out a sigh of relief when I see Aurora through the window, babbling away in her car seat. Everest sits in front, but his body is twisted so that he faces her. He’s playing peekaboo with her, and thankfully, the thug leaning against the car is ignoring them both.
But he definitely doesn’t ignore me. I feel his leery eyes on me as I put a hand on the car door handle.
“Sit next to her,” orders Logan. “I’m going up front.”
“Absolutely not,” I lash out. “I’m not sitting anywhere near that asshole.”
At once the guy backhands me, and I land on my ass on the ground. I feel something warm ooze under my nose, and when I bring a finger up to touch it, I see blood. Then I blink a few times, trying to force away the dizziness, and lift my face up to the thug, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
He’s looking at me with a very satisfied smirk on his face, and I open my mouth to let out a string of cursewords, when suddenly, there’s a loud detonation.
Still wearing a smirk, he careens forward, and I have to scramble to the side so that he doesn’t fall on me.
Then I see the hole smoking at the back of his head, and some of his brain peeking out. I get on my knees and retch out the contents of yesterday’s plastic bag.
“What… the… fuck?” I gasp, looking up at Logan.
He puts away his gun in his back pocket, shrugging and shoving aside the body. “Come on, Lia. Get in.”
“What the fuck?” I say again, as he squeezes his hand around my arm and yanks me up. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
He turns to me, a look of mild surprise in his eyes. “Well, he hit you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. So?”
Another shrug. “Didn’t think Carmelo would appreciate that.”
I actually laugh in disbelief at that. “Are you serious? Carmelo doesn’t give a shit! He’s the one who tells them to do it! He thinks it’s hilarious when his goons punch me!”
“Does he?” Logan’s voice is neutral again, and I can read a threat in it, but I can’t understand it.
“Yeah, he fucking loves it. I can’t even remember the last time my face wasn’t sore.
I don’t even care anymore.” I step over the body to get to the car, shivering with disgust as I slide into the back seat.
One look at Aurora reassures me that she didn’t see what happened, or that she didn’t understand it, at least, because she looks as cheerful as ever.
“Everest, get in the back seat,” says Logan suddenly, opening the front door.
“Uhm… okay, dude. What the fuck was that, by the way?”
Logan ignores him. “Lia, get your ass up here.”
“What? No.”
I latch onto Aurora’s hand, the feel of her fingers squirming against my palm steadying me. With all the dead bodies I’ve witnessed living at Carmelo’s, another one shouldn’t faze me, but I just can’t get used to it.
“Out.” Logan’s opened the car door, and his full 6 feet 3 inches look down at me threateningly. “Get out.”
“I said, no!”
His hand grips my wrist, and he tugs. Hard.
“I’m holding Aurora’s hand!” I say, trying to keep my voice calm so she doesn’t get worried. “If you keep pulling on me like that, she’ll get hurt.”
“Then you’d better let go of her.”
One look in his eyes, and I realize just how serious he is. Clenching my jaw, I release my hold on her hand, trying to reassure myself with the thought that Everest will be with her. And she seems to like him.
“I’ll be right back, baby,” I croon, hoping that I’m not lying. Then I turn to face my captor. “What is it? Want to shoot me in the back of the head like you did that asshole? Want me to kneel, execution-style?”
I realize taunting the man who just killed a guy in cold blood is probably not the best idea, but I just can’t seem to help it. Old habits, and all.
He allows his eyes to slowly rove up and down my body, and I squirm with discomfort under the intensity of his gaze. “Yes, I think I would like you on your knees.”
“Asshole!”
At once, he pushes me back against the car, his hand finding my face and squeezing my cheeks together. “Be very careful, Lia, unless you want a second punch to the face. I just killed a guy, and that has a tendency to make me a little antsy.”
“Yeah, well, I told you, I don’t care,” I spit out. “I get punched all the time, I’m used to it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting him to follow through on his threat, but instead, he lets go of me.
“Get in the passenger seat,” he growls. “We’re leaving.”
“What about the body?” questions Everest.
“Who cares? It’s fucking Oakley. It’ll fit right in with the surroundings.”
The moment Logan walks to the other side of the car, I heave a shuddering sigh of relief. He scares the shit out of me, but I don’t want him to know that. Maybe I am a masochist in a way, because all I can think of is how much I want to piss him off again, no matter how terrified it makes me.
“You’re going to be in so much trouble when Carmelo finds out,” I mutter, sliding down into the front seat.
He turns on the ignition and lets out a dry chuckle. “I doubt it.”
“He doesn’t like it when people go around killing his guys.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly people. I’m his best friend. Or haven’t you heard?”
I stare out the window, the old familiar lump rising in my throat. Yes, I have. I have heard that the boy who obsessed over me when we were kids is now best friends with my rapist.
“I thought Damien was your best friend,” I force out.
And that’s not much better, I realize. Damien may not have raped me, but he did push my face into trash in front of the whole class. In a way, I’m glad Logan didn’t return to school after that day, because I’m not sure I could have handled the humiliation of him seeing my fall from grace.
I’d always been popular. I always had so many friends. But the minute Damien emptied a trash can over my head, everything changed.
I became the freak people whispered about. The loser. The bullies’ target. The change was swift and drastic. It happened overnight.