Chapter 23 Logan
LOGAN
Ipush past Max to enter Sanders’ pathetic office, scrunching my nose at the smell of useless bastard lingering in his office.
Upon seeing his meticulously arranged desk, I’m tempted to tie him up and test which of his pens is best for stabbing.
He can align them all neat and tidy in his fucking guts after I’m done with him.
“Bring Lily back to our quarters,” I tell Charlie. “Now.”
“Mrs. Holton is going to stay with us until we’ve cleared up the situation,” Sanders says, sitting up straight. “I am aware you don’t have rules where you come from, Mr. Cabrera. But this an army base, and not a—how is it called? Ah, barrio.”
He meets my gaze, obviously very proud of his sad attack. I grew up in a small town near Oklahoma, but I’m sure the racist son of a bitch also thinks that Cabrera is my actual last name.
“Heard you touched my girl,” I say, smiling as I take a step toward him. “Wanna find out how we handle shit like this in the—ah, barrio?”
Sam grabs my arm, but it only takes a nod and a feather-light touch for him to let go.
“I removed her from an area she had no business being in, Mr. Cabrera. An area she was only able to access because you seem to be rather negligent with the equipment our institution graciously provides you with, by the way.”
Exhaling loudly, I turn to look at Lily.
“Where did he touch you?”
She glances down at her right arm, which is enough of a confirmation for me.
Before Sam or any of the others can think of holding me back for real, I’m behind Sanders’ desk.
He lifts his arms to shield himself a second too late, and his jawbone gives a satisfying crack as my fist collides with his face.
Something small and white flies through my field of vision, landing on his desk while a mix of spit and blood starts running down his chin.
A big grin spreads on my face as I grab his tooth, holding it up for him to see.
“I usually like to take souvenirs, Mister Sanders, but I wouldn’t want to taint my beautiful collection with even an atom of your repulsive body.”
I flick his tooth away, and with a quiet plop, it lands in his cup of coffee.
Sanders scrambles in his chair, torn between wiping over his bleeding face, keeping his defense up, and trying to stand. He drops his arms, and I lift my fist a second time, just to scare him, but the others apparently think I’ve had enough fun.
“That’s it, I’m calling the General,” Sanders fumes, coincidentally finding his courage when Sam pulls me to the back of the room.
“Oh no, he’s gonna tell Mom,” I mock, and a vein on Sanders’ forehead starts throbbing.
I wonder if I could provoke—or torture—him to the point of a heart attack. The latter would be more fun.
As soon as Rockwell stands between him and me, the little fucker jumps up from his piss-stained chair and runs out of the office with his phone in hand, closely followed by Rockwell.
I don’t give a shit about his antics or his threats. If the guys weren’t so uptight, I would kill him right here, right now, and then simply apologize to Cantrell. Accidents happen.
“Hunter,” I say, ignoring Lily as I turn to face Charlie. “Thank you for staying with her. I know how much you hate confrontational shit or getting your dad involved.”
“Didn’t have to,” he says. “It was like he wanted me to break open the door. Didn’t even yell at me, just stared at Lily until you guys arrived. I’m sorry I let her out of my sight, should have known she was up to something.”
“Not your fault, Charlie,” Max chimes in, putting his arm around Lily.
“Yeah, who would have expected her to do something so fucking dumb,” I add, narrowing my eyes when Lily dares to meet my gaze.
Somewhere in the hallway, Sanders starts yelling.
“I’m going to get all of you fired. This—“
“This isn’t a kindergarten, gentlemen.”
I guess Rockwell wasn’t able to convince Sanders to leave General Cantrell out of this.
Said man stomps into the office and sits down in Sanders’ chair with a loud groan.
Cantrell is far from a youngster, but he looks worse than the last time we met.
My involvement in the task force is tied to Cantrell only, and it’s not the first time I’m asking myself what’s going to happen once he steps down from his position.
“I hope you plan on cleaning this mess, Louis.”
Disgusted, Cantrell looks down at the bloody handprints on the desk, and the antipathy in his gaze grows even stronger when Sanders clears his throat.
“I have neither the time nor patience for this constant back and forth between all of you. Louis, I appreciate your efforts, but Task Force Phoenix is entirely my responsibility. Entering their building without permission not only shows your lack of respect toward them but also toward me, which is the far more concerning issue.”
The grin on my face comes too soon.
“Logan.” Cantrell sighs.
“Want me to take care of the problem for you, sir?” I ask, pointing at Sanders.
“Logan,” Cantrell repeats, with a stern undertone this time. “Our agreement doesn’t include you threatening members of staff. Or assaulting them,” he adds. “This isn’t the kind of behavior I want to see around here.”
“Heard how he didn’t call you my superior, asshole?” I whisper over to Sanders, who comes closer, his mouth opening and closing in search of a comeback.
“It won’t happen again,” Rockwell says.
“I sincerely hope you’re right.” Cantrell stifles a yawn, and I lean over to Sanders.
“Pathetic little leech. No one respects you. Never did, never will. Just wait until I catch you alone, gonna crush you like the cockroach you are.”
“They need to be fired,” Sanders yells, barging over to Cantrell. “They are a danger to society, unprofessional brutes who belong in prison instead of being handed deadly weapons. Men like Rockwell can’t be trusted. I know what happened in—“
“You are overstepping your boundaries, Lieutenant General,” Cantrell snarls. “You better start acting according to your position instead of pointing fingers like a nosy little kid. Task Force Phoenix does not concern you, and I won’t tell you a third time, Louis.”
Cantrell leans back in his chair, sliding a hand over his balding head. “One week of unpaid leave. For all of you. You are dismissed,” he says, directed at Rockwell. “Arthur, please bring your men back to your quarters. Without further incidents, if possible.”
“And Mrs. Holton,” Cantrell says while he gets up, and Lily scrambles to let go of Max and stand up straight. “I wish you only the best for your future, off base. No need for enemies with a husband like that,” he says, giving her a soft pat on the shoulder before he leaves the room.
Sanders runs after him, obviously not done with his tantrum yet.
We take the stairs to avoid passing the two men who are having a screaming match in Cantrell’s office. For the entire walk back to our building, Max is the only one talking.
He keeps telling Lily nonsense, stuff like: It’s not your fault, we’re not angry, everything is okay, baby.
If there is no award for stupidity yet, I am going to invent it and give the first one to Max.
Because the current tragedy is essentially Lily’s fault, I am angry, and ultimately, things are anything but okay.
“Can we stop with the secretiveness?” Max says as soon as Sam, who is the last to enter Rockwell’s office, closes the door behind himself. “I deserve an explanation.”
“Not here. And I don’t think you are currently in the position to demand anything, since it was your responsibility who got us in fucking trouble.”
“Don’t talk about her like this,” Max snarls back, stepping in front of Lily.
“Max,” she whispers, pulling on his hand. “He is right. Don’t make it worse.”
So, there is a brain hidden somewhere in her pretty head.
I make my way over to Rockwell’s couch and sit down.
With my arms crossed in front of my chest, I observe the blatant formation of groups.
Sam and Charlie have sided with Rockwell while Max and Lily stand on the opposite side of the desk, seemingly trying to fuse into one body.
And I am, like always, my own one-man team.
“We’re going to my house. It’s close, and—“
“No,” I interrupt Rockwell. “Your place has one bedroom, and your guest bed is a fucking couch. How’s this supposed to work? I’m not going to sleep in the garden and play summer camp.”
“We could ask Red,” Max suggests, but Rockwell shakes his head.
“Too far away.”
“Too far away for what?!” Max really doesn’t get it. If you ask me, the walls here have ears.
“Sergeant Vaughn,” Rockwell bellows, and Max raises his hands.
Sam groans, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Fine, I’ll ask Ruby.”
He unlocks it with the pace of a sedated sloth, obviously waiting for one of us to tell him to stop. Won’t be me, because his wife may be as annoying as Max if she wants to, but she also owns houses with more than two bedrooms.
“Darling, we had a situation at work,” Sam says once Ruby picks up the phone. “No, no one died, but can the guys stay with us for a few days? Ruby, no, that’s not necessary, please—” Sam’s cheeks puff up as he lets out a loud breath before he puts his wife on speaker.
“Who’s coming?” Ruby asks, her voice so sleepy I’m sure we’ve just woken her up.
“Rockwell, Logan, Max, Charlie, and Lily.”
“Who’s Lily?”
“I’ll explain later. Please.”
“Wait, so we need—” She’s silent for over a minute, causing Sam to check if she ended the call. “Rockwell has to share a room with Charlie. Otherwise, I don’t have a room for the mysterious Lily.”
“She’s staying with me and Max,” I yell over to Sam. “But give us a bedroom with a couch.”
“Ooh.” Ruby chuckles. “You’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Indeed. We should arrive in a few hours,” Sam says before he turns the speaker off and walks a few steps over to the window. As if it would keep us from hearing how he coos, “Bye, darling, I love you.”
I wipe the grin off of my face before Sam sees it and slaps it off.
Mr. Grumpy himself, so fully domesticated it warms my cold heart.
Max would never admit it, but he thinks he could do the same to me if he tries hard enough.
He doesn’t understand that there has to be a spark of lovable human inside a person for this little trick to work.
You can’t grow a tree on a pile of toxic waste, either.
Quietly, I get up from the couch while the others are busy planning the trip to Ruby. If God is gracious with me today, I’m already done packing my things before the two lovebirds arrive in my room. And if I’m not, I can take the bag I took to Red’s.
As I walk past Max and Lily, I’m surprised they are still two separate human beings. I leave Rockwell’s office without a word and let the door fall shut behind me. But the sound of it falling into the lock comes with a delay, and a small hand finds mine.
“I’m sorry,” Lily says while we walk down the hallway. I put my hands in my pockets and brace myself for a lot of words I have no interest in hearing.
“I don’t want you to take me to Ruby. I caused enough chaos. I’ll tell Max to bring me to a motel, maybe they’ll let me work in exchange for a room until things settle down.”
She continues talking as we walk up the stairs, and every sentence that comes out of her mouth causes my blood pressure to rise.
“It’s okay, Logan, just say it. I know you want me gone.”
As soon as we reach my room, I put my hand over her mouth so that she finally shuts the fuck up. My fingers itch to wander lower, to wrap around her delicate throat and just squeeze, until all that talk of wanting to leave stops being a pathetic lie.
“First of all, you don’t know shit about what I want or don’t want. You’re coming with us. You are ours. Mine. You brought this over yourself, so be a goddamn adult and live with the consequences because we’re long past a point where you could have chickened out.”
Lily looks up at me with doe eyes, gentle and trusting despite what I’ve just told her. I’m afraid she and Max aren’t too different because it’s the exact same concerning look.
“I’m really sorry,” she says as I remove my hand from her mouth. “Can I explain?”
“No. Pack your things. And Lillian—” I grab her face, and Max enters the room, quietly closing the door behind himself. “If you ever dare to mess with any form of light surveillance again, I am going to implant you a fucking tracker. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” she mumbles, sounding a little funny because of the way I’m squeezing her cheeks.
“Good.” I let go of her, and she scrambles to gather all her belongings while Max and I just re-pack our bags.
Half an hour later, we’re standing in front of our building. Max is carrying Lily’s bag for her, and I sincerely hope she packed everything because she won’t come back here, and I am not going to bring her shit to the post office.
This outcome was obvious from the beginning, no matter how deep Max already sank into his delusions. Our base isn’t a place for her to be. Our lives aren’t suitable for her. We need to find a solution soon, but for now, she really is stuck with us.