Indestructible

  “Logan has a couple arrests on record for assault. One was with a deadly weapon—he beat a man with a baseball bat.”

  “What?” The word escaped as a soft, unbelieving whisper that hung between us.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve already told you too much.”

  He stood and I leapt up, blocking him from leaving the room.

  “You love my mother, right?” I demanded, my voice cracking.

  He hit me again with that damn nod, although this time it was slow. His features were wary; he was unsure where I was going with my question.

  “Going to buy a home together probably means you’re planning to marry her, yeah?” I continued.

  “Cassandra—”

  “That makes you family.” I raised my chin, demanding his full attention. “I know we’re practically strangers, but family helps each other out and sticks together. And if you’re going to be part of mine, that makes you part of Logan’s, because he’s my family—my world. And there’s a precious little boy involved that depends on his father. So please tell me everything.”

  George’s posture drooped, and his sigh was troubled. I wasn’t sure what his next move would be. He stared at me a moment more, then moved back to his seat, looking conflicted. The relief I felt when he sat back down was overwhelming.

  I followed his actions, sitting up straight on the edge of my seat, my watery eyes on him.

  “Your mom looked into him when you two got close.”

  A memory of her mentioning this suddenly usurped my thoughts—or maybe it had been more of a warning. Regardless, I’d brushed it off at the time.

  “And?”

  “One was just a bar fight—something about Logan hitting on another man’s girlfriend. Both of them were drunk, fists flew, cops were called. Simple as that. The other one, though…Logan went after a man for no apparent reason—attacked him outside of a gym, broke his hands. Used a baseball bat and shattered his ribs.”

  My breath caught. There wasn’t a single place in my head where a violent image of Logan could reside. It wasn’t possible.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “That’s the thing: Neither Logan nor the victim would explain. Weirder than that, a few days later, the victim dropped all charges. It’s still on file, though. Something like that doesn’t go away.”

  “That’s everything?” I murmured, almost afraid of the answer.

  “Yeah, that’s all I got. Again, I’m sorry, Cassandra. Anything I can do to help, I’m here. Your mother went to talk to Logan last Saturday. She wouldn’t tell me what he told her—she said it was personal—but whatever it was, she’s on his side. And that’s all I need to know to trust the man.”

  Unsure what else there was to say and not wanting to face my mother right then, I stood on wobbly legs. My voice was distant when I spoke.

  “Thanks. Tell my mom I stopped by, please.”

  I never heard his response. Dazed, I walked outside, inhaling gulp after gulp of cool air to stop the sputtering of my errant thoughts.

  Operating on autopilot, I drove a few blocks ahead and pulled off into a small park, then dialed on my phone. There was one person who knew Logan even better than I did.

  It rang multiple times before it went to voicemail. I dialed the same number incessantly until Caleb’s angry voice shouted back.

  “WHAT!?”

  “Why did Logan nearly beat a man to death!?” It was a hell of a greeting—not that his was much better. But it was clear I was interrupting something.

  “Shit, one sec.” I heard rustling, and his voice dissolved into the background. “Don’t even think about moving that ass, understand? Good. I’ll be right back.”

  Another moment passed before he spoke again—this time to me. “What’s going on, Cassie?”

  “Logan’s in trouble.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Good news is he’s innocent, and your man has more connections than anyone I know. He’ll be fine.”

  “No, he won’t. It’s not official yet, but…he’s going to be named the official suspect.”

  There was a long pause. “Shit. All right, listen to me: Logan will get through this, okay? Just give him some space to work it out. Now, I gotta go.”

  “Are you kidding me!?” I snapped, no longer able to keep it in. “He’s supposed to be your best friend! He’s running the paper, raising a son, and dealing with possible murder charges all on top of handling your shit at Haven! Real good friend you are!”

  “Damn, don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. Bet Logan loves that.” He sounded impressed, which only sent my rage higher.

  “You need to come home, with Hilary, and man up!”

  “I don’t have time for this. Logan knows where to find me, and if he needed me, he’d call, which he has. As far as Haven, you’re right, but I called in two good buddies the other day to come down and watch over the place. We good?”

  Now he just sounded bored, which pissed me off even more.

  “No! Tell me about the fight. The Logan I know wouldn’t attack an innocent man with a baseball bat.”

  “That’s because he didn’t,” he snapped.

  “Oh, right, so someone else did it?”

  “Oh, no, that was all Logan. I was there. He wouldn’t let me do anything other than watch, and it was a hell of a show. But the guy was far from innocent.”

  “Keep going.”

  He blew out an agitated breath. “Look, this isn’t my story to tell. Talk to Logan.”

  “What’s wrong? Don’t want to spill a friend’s secret?” I hissed.

  “Cassandra.” It was a low warning—and one I ignored.

  “No, you stormed into my boyfriend’s house, screaming and pointing fingers, not to mention scaring a four-year-old all because I kept someone else’s secret. You owe me!”

  Feeling proud for laying it out there, I was hit with a slug to the gut when Caleb had the gall to burst out laughing.

  “First of all, Oliver has never and will never be afraid of me. Second, you’re right, and I owe you an apology. I lost my cool; Hilary does that to me. But I already paid up for that.”

  “Paid up?” What the hell does that mean?

  “You really think Logan let me out of that house without adding to my suffering? Bastard left me walking away with a black eye and split lip.”

  “What? Why?” Logan knew Caleb was hurting, desperate to find Hilary, yet he fought him? Whom exactly was I dating?

  Caleb chuckled again. “Cassandra, I know Logan, and I knew before I even arrived that morning that he’d make me regret my decision. But I didn’t care. I took both hits and a cheap knee to my gut all while listening to him explain what I already knew: Nobody comes at his woman like I did. It’s why I respect the man.”

  “Because he kicked your ass?”

  Caleb snickered. “No, because he protects what’s his. And you were doing the same for Hilary: protecting her by keeping that secret. I get it, and I respect you for it. I’m sorry. It’s water under the bridge. So we good now? ’Cause I got some things going on here that need my attention.”

  How the hell could he sound so calm? It didn’t matter, but one thing did.

  “So you won’t tell me about Logan’s fight with the baseball bat?”

  “No, but I’ll help you out.” His voice was friendly, yet impatient. “Talk to Julia.”

  “Julia?” That caught me by surprise.

  “She’s one of the few people he’d kill for—you should know that. She’ll have your answers. I need to go.”

  “No, you need to come home and support your friend when he needs it most, like he’s done for you. If you and Hilary are fine now, don’t leave the rest of us unfine. And tell Hilary to call—soon. She doesn’t get to throw a tit fit, get me verbally attacked, and run off only to be chased and punished with your penis when I haven’t had five minutes with my man in over a week!” I rushed out before he could hang up.

  “Not gonna be for a while, but she’ll call.” br />
  The call disconnected. I sank back against my seat, watching kids laughing as they went down the slide one after another. It was tempting to follow suit as I remembered how much easier life was when I was younger. Even with a single mother who worked too much, I at least knew what to expect on a daily basis. Now, I was at a loss.

  My world was rocked once again. But at least I’d gotten a few things off my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Control

  I walked around the park for over an hour, circling the grounds and even enjoying a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream from the vendor who passed through.

  I’d messaged Julia, asking her to meet me, and by the time the sun was setting I was sitting next to her on a bench outside Haven. I’d refused to meet her inside; I wasn’t quite ready to involve Logan, whom I could see sitting at the bar, oblivious to the fact that I was near. I spotted only a broad back covered in a grey T-shirt and short hair with a slight wave, but I recognized him instantly as I stared through the large window in front of the sidewalk.

  “So what’s up?” Julia asked, too cheerful for the conversation I was about to explore. But that didn’t stop me. Without peace of mind, I was practically crippled with ‘what if’s.

  “I need to ask you something. And I know it’s not my business, but I just…I just need to understand.”

  Her smile faltered but didn’t drop. “Sure, what is it?”

  “I know about Logan being arrested for attacking a man with a bat. Do you know why he’d do that?”

  Julia’s smile vanished that time, a tight frown its gloomy replacement. She was no longer relaxed and jovial; her entire posture had changed. From the look of it, I’d struck an unfriendly chord. She didn’t speak, staring down at her lap and fidgeting with her gloved hands. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, as though neither position was comfortable, then finally cleared her throat and looked over at me with a slight pink hue to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

  “Cassandra, I don’t want to go there. The charges were dropped. I just want to move on.”

  My thoughts ran rampant, straight to my worst fear. The image of Kurt holding me down flashed across my mind, and my heart sank.

  She’d been hurt. Attacked, maybe—raped?

  “I’m so sorry.” Moisture struck my eyes as I spoke, my tone soft and sympathetic. Whatever had happened, Logan was obviously protecting his sister or making the guy pay for hurting her, which were both good-enough reasons for me. “I understand wanting to move on—”

  “Wait!” she shrieked, her expression filled with horror. “Stop looking at me like that. I wasn’t hurt or anything. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Oh, I just assumed—”

  “Logan was pissed because I was sixteen and got a tattoo.”

  “What?” My entire face scrunched.

  She blew out a long, embarrassed groan. “It was in a back room at some lame party, and I ended up getting an infection. The tattoo artist was like fifty and brought everyone beer and pot. He did a bunch of work that night and said there was no charge for girls.”

  “Sounds like a sleaze,” I mumbled.

  Her cheeks flushed brighter. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Anyway, I had to go on antibiotics…which led to me having to tell my parents, who told Logan, who went apeshit.”

  She lifted her jacket and shirt to reveal a bright-purple shape of what I guessed was supposed to be a butterfly, with crooked wings.

  “Did he do it in the dark?” I blurted without thinking.

  She dropped her jacket and puffed out an insulted sigh.

  “Sorry,” I said, but my apology was too late. I couldn’t help it—that was the worst so-called butterfly I’d ever seen, and definitely qualified for some cover-up work.

  “So I take it Logan hates tattoos?” My hand shot over my hip, where my own body art was hidden. Oh, I was in trouble.

  “It wasn’t that. It was more the fact that his underage sister was drinking and smoking weed at a party, and then found herself in a dirty room getting an unsanitary tattoo from a man way too old to be there. It’s my own fault. I should have asked to make sure he was using a fresh needle, but I was drunk!”

  “I'm understanding your brother’s rage a bit more.”

  “My friend got one right before me and it looked cute. How was I supposed to know it would get infected? Luckily I didn’t catch any diseases, but it didn’t matter. Logan wouldn’t even look at me, he was so mad. It was right after we met Caleb, so they searched the guy out together and Logan broke his hands. The bat belonged to one of the guy’s buddies that tried to intervene. Long story short, Logan’s unstoppable when he’s pissed. Add in the fact that it had to do with his baby sister, and I’m sure you can paint your own picture of how things went down.”

  “I sure can,” I muttered.

  “You have to understand: Logan’s always looked out for me and Jax. And Natasha had just left him, so he wasn’t exactly a happy-go-lucky sort of guy.”

  “Obviously.” I was at a loss, which had been happening a lot lately. I felt like a one-woman episode of CSI, but on rewind. Here I was, setting up meetings and questioning everyone about the man I thought I knew as well as he did me, yet I’d barely spoken to him over the past week. And even though he currently sat only thirty feet from me, it still felt worlds away.

  “I felt like crap when he was arrested. Oliver was still a baby. It was Caleb that saved him from real jail time. He broke into the tattoo artist’s apartment and found some videos of the perv screwing around with some underage girls. One trip to the hospital later and all charges were dropped. As far as the tattoo, I’m waiting for Jax to cover it for me.”

  “Waiting?”

  “Yeah, till he saves up for some equipment. He wants to open his own shop one day. I’ll be his first customer.” She sounded proud, and her smile returned.

  One day? It looked like twins didn’t tell each other everything. As much as I wanted to, now wasn’t the time to divulge that fact that Jax not only had high-end equipment stashed in his bedroom, but also that half the campus already comprised his clientele.

  We sat for a few more minutes chatting about lighter topics, such as Oliver and how he was staying at his grandma’s until Monday night. Logan didn’t strike me as the type of father to allow his son to miss a day of school, which had me even more worried.

  Did he know about the DA’s decision? Was that why he’d come home early—to see me? I might’ve felt better about his police record, but considering everything else happening, it didn’t matter.

  After a quick goodbye to Julia, I entered Haven, still harboring some resentment for being thrown out of Logan’s house but ready to explain and work things through with him.

  He needed me now more than ever, and I needed my man.

  I stole a quick stop to the ladies’ room to pee and check my face, which was in dire need of under-eye concealer. I compromised by swiping on some clear lip gloss, then left the restroom and sneaked up to the bar.

  But he wasn’t there. After surveying the room, I came up empty on seeing the broad shoulders and charming smirk I missed.

  I snared a seat at the bar and flagged the bartender. He walked right over with a bright, welcoming smile in place. Surprisingly, it did wonders for my mood.

  “Hey, what can I get you?”

  “I'm looking for Logan. Is he still here?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m, ah, not sure where he went though. Give me a sec to check, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  The blaring music surrounding me faded to a dull rumble. I watched the bartender walk away and gaze indiscreetly back in my direction, looking uneasy.

  Something happened.

  My focus remained on him as he stepped out from behind the bar and walked up to a waitress. He dipped his head and whispered into her ear, throwing a cautious, sidelong glance my way and nudging his head toward the stairs in the corner, which I knew led to the hotel rooms.

&
nbsp; My stomach dropped and heart sputtered. I shoved off from the counter and approached them, still huddled and whispering.

  “Where is he?” I demanded, my gaze darting between them.

  “I’m sorry, but he went upstairs a few minutes ago,” the waitress replied. “You just missed him.”

  The explanation didn’t match the pity written all over her face. Logan kept a room up there, and if he’d been drinking all day, it would make sense that he’d stay there. It was better than driving drunk.

  “Okay, so why all the whispers?” I asked.

  The bartender sneaked away, not even looking my way in the process while the waitress twirled a dishrag in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. My pulse pounded, sweat beading at the nape of my neck.

  “Just tell me.”

  “He didn’t go up alone.”

  As though someone had sounded a starting pistol, I was off before she said another word. I raced up the stairs two at a time, experiencing a case of déjà vu. I did this with Mark. If Logan was up there with another woman, I wouldn’t walk away without my own police record.

  I didn’t even stop outside his door, busting it open to face the scene behind it.

  Logan was lying flat on his back on the bed, his shirt missing but hanging around one arm, pants exactly where they should be: on his body. His eyes were closed, almost peacefully.

  Natasha stood beside him, her skanky tube dress resting at her feet. Her cheap black lace panties were almost as repulsive as her fake tits.

  She couldn’t act any better than she could shop for decent underwear, either. The amusement in her eyes spoke louder than the hand she placed strategically over her supposed-to-look-stunned mouth. She didn’t even bother to shield her breasts.

  “Cassandra, I’m sorry. It just happened.”

  Rolling my eyes at the obvious performance, I stormed over to the bed, yelling Logan’s name. He didn’t even flinch. He was out cold.

  “I know this hurts right now, but Logan and I have so much history. You can’t be that surprised.”