Chapter 35
Piper
Present Day
“What do you want from me?”
I rub my pounding head, still trying to understand what the hell Logan Colt is doing standing in front of me, calling me a big fucking problem.
“Where are we? Where is this hideous fucking place?”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “This hideous fucking place, as you call it, is my living room. And I agree with you. It is quite hideous.”
“You should fire your interior designer,” I add, wondering what has gotten into me.
I always get mouthy when I come face to face with bullies, but this isn’t just a bully. This is one of the Devil founders, and I can only assume he’s brought me here to kill me.
Though that doesn’t seem like a very wise move, since blood probably doesn’t wash out all that easily from cream carpets.
But he doesn’t seem angry or even annoyed at me. Just amused. “Oh, I did better than that. I killed her.”
He laughs outright at my shocked expression.
“Not because of that, though. Don’t worry. I don’t kill people just because they annoy me, most of the time. Otherwise, you’d have been dead a long time ago.”
I gulp nervously.
“No offense,” he adds in a smirking tone.
“None taken.” I know the wise thing to do would be to shut up, but that’s not something I’m very good at. Plus, I don’t want him to think I’m chicken. “I’m used to being called annoying. I don’t care.”
I’m surprised to find something like anger flash across his eyes.
“Write me a list of everyone who’s ever called you that,” he growls.
“Uhm.” I lick my dry licks, wondering if I’m hallucinating right now from whatever he’s injected me with. “I can’t. You tied me up.”
“Right.” He grabs a nearby chair—also beige—and twirls it around, sitting down on it so his arms are folded over its back. “We’ll talk about that later. You and I have a lot to catch up on.”
“Uh… we do?”
“Has anyone told you it’s not polite to start every sentence with a variation of ‘uhm’ or ‘uh’?”
“Has anyone ever told you it’s not polite to drug and tie people up?”
I bite my tongue, wishing again I wasn’t so mouthy, but to my surprise, Logan doesn’t look angry at all anymore. In fact, his face splits into a wide grin. “I see I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.”
Fuck. That sentence has got me sweating far more than when I thought he would just end me with a bullet to the skull or something. If what happened three years ago happens again today… I can’t handle it. I fucking can’t handle it.
Please, just kill me now.
He looks startled at the sudden change in my expression, and then his own changes just as swiftly.
“God, no,” he coughs out, looking more uncomfortable than I ever could have imagined he might look. “I would never do that. I didn’t mean it that way. I draw the line at killing.”
I let out a shaky breath. I guess he’s just admitted that he is planning to kill me, but I believe him when he says he doesn’t do… the other stuff. There is literally no reason for me to believe him, but I do. He has a very believable face.
I try to remind myself forcefully that I’m very bad with trust. After all, I cheerily went along with Quill all while he secretly planned my ruin.
Even after he texted that cruel message after his friends raped me, I went right back to him when he drunk-dialed me a few weeks later.
Then I let him fuck me as he choked me and sobbed out how I was a worthless whore, and after, I held his hair back while he vomited.
The only reason I managed to stay away from him for three whole years is because of the massive loan I took out to go to UCLA.
And even now, after all that, I’m listening to any sound of a door opening, any sign of him. I’m still hoping he’ll come save me.
Yeah, right.
“Has anyone ever taken advantage of you in that way?” Logan asks suddenly, his eyes fixed on me like he’s been studying my reaction.
I frown at him in confusion. Did he really drug, kidnap, and tie me up in his living room… just for a chat? What the hell is this all about?
“What do you want from me?” I ask sullenly.
He sighs, leaning back, his hand running through his curly brown hair. “It’s not what I want. It’s what he wants.”
“Damien Wells,” I guess.
He flattens his lips into a small smile. “Good for you. Been out sleuthing, huh?”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t know why you’ve brought me here, but if you think you can break me by making fun of me…” I let out a loud, shuddering sigh. “I’m used to it. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Language,” he scowls, reminding me of the person I wish were here instead of him, because I’m a fucking masochist who’d cheerfully trade one killer for another.
But who else is there to wish for? The only other person in my life at this point is Josh, and he’s no match for either Quill or Logan.
“You’re going to have to tell me more about who’s been giving you shit,” adds Logan, his scowl deepening into a frown.
I stare at him in utter confusion. “Do you often avenge your victims?”
“What?”
It’s his turn to stare at me in apparent confusion.
I shrug, unwilling to continue down this path. I’m tired, my head hurts, my heart is sore, and I just want to get this over with. Whatever this is.
My death, I guess.
“So, what does Damien Wells want?” I ask, going back to his earlier comment.
“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Well, he wants you dead.”
Figures. “I’d gleaned that much,” I say, trying and failing to repress a yawn. The truth is, I’m still completely wiped out from whatever drug he put in my system, and it has to be the middle of the night by now. Or even early morning, judging from the pink streaks across the sky.
But the timing of my yawn has Logan staring at me like I’m unhinged. I guess it must look pretty weird to yawn while referencing your own impending fate. But I could really use a nap.
I’m startled awake by the sudden banging open of the door. A monster walks in, his face covered by a white, featureless mask. He’s wearing camo pants, combat boots, a leather jacket from which peaks out a hoodie, its hood completely covering his hair.
It’s Quill. Quill has found me.
He may be a monster, but he’s my monster. All my doubts, all my pain, vanish under his overwhelming, reassuring presence.
He’s here. Everything’s going to be fine.
He’s got a gun out, but he’s not pointing it at anything. Logan rises from his chair, eyeing him calmly.
“Stand down, soldier,” he warns. “I’m handling this one directly.”
Quill doesn’t budge.
“Stand down,” repeats Logan, his voice louder. “I see you got the contract, but as I said, I’m handling this. I’ll make it right with Tragen.”
Instead of standing down, Quill slowly raises his arm so that his gun is pointed straight at Logan.
But the latter doesn’t seem the least bit nervous. In fact, if anything, he looks… relieved.
“Ah,” he says. “It’s you. I’ve been expecting you, Quill Nelson.”
I gasp loudly. How the hell does he know…?
Meanwhile, Quill is still pointing his gun at him, but I can tell he’s gone stiff from shock.
Logan clicks his tongue impatiently. “Take your mask off, Quill. Let’s not waste time here.”
He waits, crossing his arms, as Quill’s blue eyes flash from behind the mask, looking like he’s just as confused as me.
But finally, he very slightly lowers his gun-holding arm then removes his mask.
I gasp again, this time in relief, when I take in his beautiful blue eyes and the long, jagged scar glowing white.
There’s no doubt about it. It’s him. It’s really him. He’s here. I’ll be okay. Somehow, he’ll make it all okay.
But he keeps his eyes averted from me, focusing his attention on Logan.
“How the fuck do you know my name?” he growls.
“Oh, I know everything about you,” answers Logan smoothly. “Just like I know everything about her. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting her to safety.”
My eyes widen, and Quill looks equally amazed.
“You… you wanted to save me?” I croak out.
“Of course.” Logan looks surprised I had been assuming differently. “But it’s not easy to get you out from under Damien’s nose.” He grimaces. “It’s not easy, for a whole lot of reasons. But mainly, logistical ones. I’ll have to trust you.”
He nods at Quill.
“I’m going to leave this apartment. When I return, you will both be gone.
Quill, you will bring her to this address.
” He hands him a small card. “There’s a black jeep waiting for you in the parking lot.
As soon as I can get away, I’ll join you there, and I’ll explain everything.
In the meantime, I’m counting on you, Quill, to keep Piper safe. ”
While talking, he’s been untying my wrists and legs, and now, he walks over to the door. He turns, says, “I trust you, Quill,” then closes the door behind us, leaving the two of us alone.
Quill’s eyes meet mine for the first time as I stand up, shaky from the drugs that have still not left my system.
I try to take a step toward him, expecting to fall into his arms, to kiss him while we both try to figure out what the fuck just happened.
But then, I stop in my tracks, realizing with a sick feeling that the gaze he’s got fixed on me is nothing like the usual one.
He doesn’t look relieved to have found me. His eyes have none of the dangerous darkness, the anger laced with desire that makes my stomach clench.
No. Now, he looks at me with a kind of cold harshness that makes my stomach fill with lead and sink.
Then he slowly lifts his gun up once more. This time, it’s pointing at me.
Realization hits me as I draw myself up straight, fighting the shakiness that isn’t from the drugs anymore.
“I’m your contract,” I breathe.
He doesn’t say a word, just keeps the gun fixed to my forehead, dead center, and I imagine that the wound it would leave would be identical to those of my parents and Jones.
His silence serves as confirmation.
“I can’t believe it,” I stammer, a shiver coursing down my spine.
The person I trusted to make it all okay.
That person is about to be my very undoing.
A horrible sense of déjà-vu overwhelms me.