Chapter 20 Logan
LOGAN
Like so often, I find myself envying Max’s ability to sleep. To drift off in minutes without nightmares haunting him. Blissfully and concerningly unaware of his surroundings, no matter if we’re on base, in a sketchy motel, or in an active warzone. As long as I’m by his side, he’s out like a light.
He lets out a grumpy whine when I get up, followed by slapping his hand on my side of the mattress. I pause and wait for him to form a substitute Logan out of the blanket before I grab some clothes and leave the bedroom.
Even though it’s well past midnight, the lights inside the house are still on.
Red’s business never sleeps, and neither do the men who constantly roam around his property.
The hallway is quiet, apart from the sound of me putting on my clothes, and once I’m dressed, I check if Sam and Rockwell are still awake.
They aren’t, if the lack of noise coming from their rooms is anything to go by.
I round the corner and make my way over to Red’s office. Oil paintings line the blood-red walls of the hallway, unnecessarily lavish and probably expensive as hell. His taste in art is worse than Ruby’s, but at least his ego keeps local artists in business.
Just like I expected, he’s still awake. The wooden doors leading to his balcony are open, knocking against the walls when a gust of wind blows through the room as I step inside.
The sound of my footsteps is enough for him to recognize me, and he calls me over, telling me to bring a second set of cushions for the patio chair.
With a tired sigh, I sit down, and the old teak creaks under my weight as I prop my feet up on the railing. For a while, we just sit next to each other in peaceful silence.
“All good between you and your boy?” Red asks, handing me a beer.
“Always.”
“Didn’t sound like it earlier, but if you say so,” he mumbles, sipping on his beer. “Any idea what’s wrong with Rocky? He and Sam are fucking cranky, briefed me about the job, stole some of my cigars, and off they were.”
“Lots of stuff going on at base,” I say absentmindedly while I reach for my phone to check the teddy cam.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see how Red’s brows furrow in confusion. For years, I refused to get a phone. If someone wanted to talk to me, they had to find me first, and now I’m glued to the damn thing, refreshing the surveillance app over and over. However, all it shows is a pitch-black screen.
“Logan?”
“Checking on our girl,” I say. “Need more cameras.”
u okay ?
The message I sent Lily stays unread, and Red clears his throat.
“Look at the time. She’s probably asleep.”
Probably isn’t enough for me, so I text Charlie.
where’s Lily
“That Sanders’ guy is still making things complicated, eh?” Red asks in an attempt to distract me.
“For the others, mostly.”
Not even Mexico is far enough away to outrun the death grip he seems to have on the task force.
“Just stay with me,” Red says, laughing as he nudges my arm. “Never understood why you play lapdog for this general. And for such a miserable salary, too, you could make so much more money if you work for me.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about money.”
“Every man has a price, Cabrera. I just haven’t found yours yet.”
“How much are we talking?” I joke, entertaining his fantasy a little.
It’s not that I don’t like Red. If anyone deserves to be called family, it’s him. He lost good men because of me and took me in when I was at my lowest. A brother, not through blood shared, but through blood spilled. And I would lie if I said that his offer isn’t tempting.
I like his place and his line of work. Simple orders; capture and kill, without all those rules, politics, and ass-kissing. The perfect way to use my talents, as the man responsible for my existence would have put it.
“Told you everyone has a price,” he says, gleaming at me. “I need a new right-hand man. Butcher’s currently busy with other tasks.” He sighs, downing the rest of his beer in one go before he leans forward in his chair.
“Thirty percent of my revenue. Free accommodation, obviously. All the weapons and equipment your heart desires. Without accounting asking questions.”
in your room, asleep, I guess
go check on her
Okayyy
I won’t take Red up on his offer. I can’t, not even if he promised me a damn tank.
Max doesn’t like it here, and not just because of the humidity. He’s good at what he does. Enjoys all that blowing up and defusing stuff and always comes back with the brightest, proudest smile when he gets to teach some of the recruits.
It’s a shame his potential is wasted anyway.
A blaring voice comes from inside Red’s office and snaps me out of my unnecessary considerations. Red and I jump up at the same time while I curse myself for leaving my gun with Max.
Rockwell is storming my way, so angry that Sam has to hold him back. Sam, who’s also sporting a look full of disappointment.
“Was that your plan all along?” Rockwell snarls, his face just inches away from mine. “To keep the boy for your entertainment until you say fuck it and leave?”
“This has nothing to do with Max. I’m surprised you found the courage to come at me like this, given how deep your head is up Sanders’ ass. The same goes for you,” I add, glaring at Sam. “So stop acting like you give a shit about Vaughn.”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
Rockwell pushes me, and when I find my footing again, I raise my fists. Before I can do something I won’t regret, Red grabs me, and Sam pulls Rockwell away from me.
“Have a problem hearing the truth, Arthur?” I yell.
“Just say it like it is. Admit that you’re out of your depth with the Delaney situation and the shit Sanders does.
You just want to ship Max somewhere else so that he’s no longer your problem, but we all know there’s going to be a new Sanders.
Because that’s just how this organization works, and I won’t watch Max perish for some fucking greater good. ”
“Do you think sticking your nose in stuff that doesn’t concern you makes you all-knowing?” Rockwell screams back.
“Anything regarding Max is my concern.”
“Yeah, because you want the pleasure of ruining him for yourself, right?” Rockwell tries to get out of Sam’s hold but fails.
“Think I don’t see it? How he sneaks out of your room whenever you tell him to fuck off?
How he would break his own back just to please you?
He’s too young, too naive. Refuses to see that you’ll never give him what he needs because you fucking can’t, Logan.
You’re bad for him, and if you had a sliver of decency in you, you would let him go before you cause a wound so deep it’ll never heal. ”
God, I wish I had broken his jaw minutes ago. I relax my body until Red no longer holds me back. Sam gets in front of Rockwell as I stalk over to them, and soon, we’re both trying to push him away. With a sigh, Sam steps to the side.
“I know what’s good for him. You don’t. None of you really know shit about him. Do you think I ran after him? That I courted him, begged him to be with me like I’m a desperate mess?”
Rockwell opens his mouth to say something, but I yell over him.
“No. I told him to get lost, over and over. But guess what? He always comes crawling back because he fucking needs me. So if I say he’s not going anywhere, he’s not going anywhere. It’s not his decision to make, and certainly not yours.”
In the doorway, someone coughs. All four of us turn our heads to see Max leaning against the wall, looking tired and incredibly pissed.
“I’m not going where?”