18. Paris
Paris
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve seen Logan, and nobody is telling me what the hell is going on.
At first, when he didn’t come back after King called Church, I assumed he had something to take care of for the club or that his disappearance had to do with Nikita.
But now I don’t know. Logan might be dead for all I know which causes me a pain I’ve never felt before.
We aren’t in a relationship or anything and the tension in the clubhouse is suffocating, but I will do anything to know if he’s alright.
Yet two weeks later with no word from anyone, not even Saint, who has taken it upon himself to look after me since Logan isn’t around.
They’re keeping whatever’s going on from me.
I don’t fucking like it. Anytime I ask, some stupid excuse is given, like he’s on a run or it’s club business.
I don’t even know what the hell a run is, and nobody cares to explain it to me to keep my mind at ease. I don’t like being kept in the dark.
I’ve ventured out of the room a few times since Logan’s disappearance and of course, I’m the center of attention.
Most of the guys only show I exist with a nod of their heads, and the women or who they call the club whores stay away from me like I have the plague.
Although, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve put these men in an impossible position that may cost them their lives.
And the women, well I guess they see me as competition, which I’m not.
They are free to screw whoever they want without any objection from me.
“Screw it,” I mumble. “Somebody’s going to tell me something, goddamn it.”
I storm out of Logan’s room, and down the stairs, determined to get some answers this time. Everyone can’t keep lying to me or keep me out of the loop. I may be an outsider, but Logan is just as important to me as he is to them. I deserve to know what’s going on.
Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, it’s like every eye in the room shifts to me. Conversations stop abruptly as icy glares, as well as pity filled stares, are thrown my way, making me feel like an intruder. An outsider.
I hate being the center of attention.
However, I shove the unwanted feelings to the back of my mind, trying to ignore the anxiousness of being where I’m not wanted to the back of my mind. Regardless of what people think about me, my priority is surviving and finding out what happened to Logan.
My eyes dart around the room, searching amongst the men and women who are in the middle of screwing each other, getting drunk, and playing pool, but the person I need to speak with, isn’t here.
So, I head straight for his office. I know where it is because when Logan brought me here after the attack on his penthouse, this was the first place we went.
Instead of feeling welcome, it felt like a goddamn interrogation.
I told him everything I remembered, and King still pressed me like I was the one lying.
When I reach the door of his office, I knock once then push it open, not waiting for him to tell me to come in. I know I might be overstepping but it’s not fair to treat me the way they are treating me. Maybe I’m not the guest they want, but I’m not some pariah either.
Saint’s voice trails off, and King’s glare is sharp enough to cut glass. Although my nerves are twisting my stomach into knots, I push through it and let my anger rise to the top instead of leaning into my fear. It’s time for me to stand up for myself.
“Can I help you, Paris?” King asks, leaning back in his chair with his brow arched.
He has an arrogance about it that grates on my nerves.
I guess that comes from being in leadership of a bunch of men, but I’m not one of his men and I’m not one of the women here that’ll bow to everything he says.
Just as soon as this situation is done with the Petrovs, he will not have to worry about ever having to see me again.
I close the door behind me with a soft click, walk to his imposing desk, and take a seat beside Saint in the worn leather chair. “Where’s Logan?”
King tilts his head as his gaze bores through me. “Logan is taking care of something for the club right now. Can I help you with something?”
Irritation blankets his face, but I don’t care. I want answers and with the hierarchy around here, I know he’s the only one that will give them to me.
“I don’t believe you, King. And I don’t like being kept in the dark. Where is Logan?”
He goes to speak, but I toss my hand up in the air stopping him. Saint snorts and King’s irritation deepens.
“Look, I know you don’t like me. I get it, but I don’t mean your brother or your club any harm. I just want to know where he is and if he’s safe.”
“What I feel about you is irrelevant at this point, Paris.” King crosses his arms across his chest. “My concern is and will always be this club, Saint, and Reaper. You’ve put everyone in the middle of a shitstorm that didn’t have anything to do with us.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, then release a breath. “I told him to let me walk away that night and I would handle it myself. He’s the one who refused.”
“And you expect me to believe that you’re innocent in all this?” King says, leaning forward and planting his arms on his desk. “Maybe something went wrong with whatever the hell you planned with the Russians, but Oleg wants you to stick with it and take us down from the inside?”
He sounds paranoid.
My brows furrow. “Why in the hell would I plan any of this, King? That makes no sense. I tried to kill him!” I lean forward, planting my forearms on my thighs.
“You think I wanted to be given to the Bratva? You think I wanted to be Nikita’s whore, just so I could bring problems to your club? Un-fucking-believable.”
“Wait,” Saint says, with a deep frown on his face. “What do you mean you were given to the Bratva?”
I sigh, hoping my fury will dissipate if I tell them what happened to me. Being angry isn’t getting me the answers I want. I need to know where Logan is and if he’s okay.
I look between the two men. “He hasn’t told you anything about me?”
“He refused,” King says. “All we know is that you attacked Nikita.”
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Now I understand why he’s so pissed about me being here. He doesn’t know anything about me and my life for the last few months.
“Do you see why we’re not all on board with you being with our brother?
” King asks and I can’t do anything but nod.
I get it now “Of course, I will do anything Logan asks of me because he’s my blood and I trust his judgment, but that’s where it ends.
I don’t have to like you, and I don’t have to tell you shit you want to know. ”
Now he’s just trying to piss me off. I’m not going to back down from him like he wants me to. Those days are long gone when I let anyone run over me.
“I don’t care if you like me, King. I’m here because your brother decided to take on my problems as his own, not because I forced him to, or tricked him into it. I was fighting for my freedom. He just happened to be there when it happened.”
“What’s your story, Paris?” Saint asks, his voice calm, not at all accusatory like his brother’s.
“My brother. Half-brother. We have different mothers. Anyway, he owed a debt to the Petrovs. So instead of paying them cash that he didn’t have, he gave them, me.”
“Fuck,” Saint mumbles.
I hate having to retell this, but I need them to understand I’m not here to cause them any trouble. I’m not the enemy.
“I was on my way from school, going to work at a coffee shop not too far from campus, and they snatched me off the street. They covered my head with something and tied my hands. I was brought to a house which I later learned was Oleg’s mansion, held in a room until I was ushered into the office of the Pakhan.
I didn’t know my brother was involved until Oleg made the deal with him in front of my face like I was nothing more than a business transaction.
Three years of my life and his debt would be forgiven.
Months I’ve endured physical and sexual abuse from Nikita.
I wanted to end it all. Either I died or he did. ”
“So, you decided you were going to kill him and escape that night?” Saint asks.
“That was the plan. I wasn’t planning on doing it at the fight. I really didn’t know when it was going to happen, just that it needed to be done and done soon. But he got pissed off after a run in with Logan, and he took it out on me. So, I did what I needed to do.”
“How did our brother get involved?” King asks.
His hard exterior remains, but at least he’s willing to hear my story and not believe I would do his brother or this club any harm.
“He didn’t tell you that either?” I ask in disbelief.
“He did but I want to hear it from you,” King says.
“So, you can see if I’m lying?”
He shrugs and I scoff.
Whatever.
“When I tried to escape, I ran straight into him in the hallway. I begged him to let me go before anyone found Nikita, but he wouldn’t. When he realized something bad happened, he told me to come with him.”
“And you went with a complete stranger?” King asks.
“I didn’t have a choice, King. I was covered in blood, and I needed to escape before anyone found me. It was either do as Logan said or suffer the consequences of my actions. Which one would you have chosen?”
“Do you care for him?” Saint asks.
“I do.” I don’t even have to think about it. We may not have known each other long, but there’s no doubt in my mind I care a great deal about Logan. “Now can you please tell me where he is? Is he alright?”
Both brothers look at one another before focusing on me. “He’s been arrested,” King finally answers and it's like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“For what?” My heart is pounding so loud it reverberates inside my ears.
“Petrov has been sending his men after him,” King says, ignoring my question.
“Because of me?”
“Not just because of you, but because of the fighting too. They sent his enforcer after him.”
“Aleksi,” I mumble. “And they think Logan killed him?”
“You knew him?” Saint asks, but doesn’t answer my question either, which lets me know I have my answer.
“Unfortunately, I did. He deserved to die,” I say without hesitation.
Aleksi was always around even when he shouldn’t have been.
He even cornered me a couple of times, but something always interrupted him before he could take things further.
Thank God. All Nikita’s men are like that.
Even though he said no one could touch me, none of them cared to listen to any of his orders when it came to me.
Nikita only wields power because of his name, not because the men in that organization respect him. So, if they could trap me somewhere, they did. No matter how much I fought it didn’t do any good.
“Well, Logan will be out before you know it and all charges will be dropped,” King says.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door, then it’s pushed open. When Logan steps in, all the air leaves my body.
“Logan,” I mumble, and jump out of my seat and rush to him.
He catches me in the air, and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist.
“Oh my god. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I promise,” he mumbles, then kisses me on the side of my head. “I’m here.”
“I was so worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry. What are you doing in here?” His face shifts from a worried frown to a furious grimace in a flash. “Did something happen? Did somebody say something to you?”
His words are filled with anger, and I slowly slide down his tense body. But I don’t let him go and he keeps me in his embrace. He looks tired but other than that, he looks fine.
“Calm down.” King stands from behind his desk as he addresses his brother. “Paris just had some questions.”
Logan’s finger traces the contour of my face. “And you’re good?” he asks.
“Now that you’re here, I’m perfect.”
He releases a long breath, then focuses on King. “I need to speak to you after I spend some time with Paris.”
King nods. “I’ll be here.”
Logan interlaces our fingers and pulls me from King’s office. My heart’s racing and the amount of tension drains from my body just seeing him is intense. I’m so glad he’s here. I don’t know when he buried himself under my skin but two weeks without knowing what happened to him was torture.