Page 202 of Sin Bin

Lucien put his hands up. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“No?” Logan challenged scornfully. “You show up out of the clear blue one day and demand an audience with the son you’ve never acknowledged or claimed. But you expect me to believe you’re not here to cause trouble?”

Lucien held his hostile gaze for a long moment. “I just want to talk, Logan.”

“You want to talk?” Logan plopped down on the couch, draped his arms across the back and glared furiously at his father. “Talk.”

Lucien’s eyes moved around the expansive living area, taking in every detail. “Nice place.” He smiled approvingly, the perfect white of his teeth shining like a bar of light. “You’ve done very well for yourself.”

“No fucking thanks to you,” Logan said coldly.

“No. I suppose not.” Dipping his hands in his pockets again, Lucien moved toward the wall of windows and stared outside. “I will say…it’s good to see that my investment paid off.”

Logan went still, his eyes narrowing as he stared intently at his father. “What the hell are you talking about? What investment?”

Lucien turned from the windows to meet his suspicious gaze. “Not many kids have the resources to play an exorbitantly expensive sport like hockey.” He paused. “Who do you think sponsored you all those years?”

As the meaning of his words registered, Logan felt the blood drain from his head. He stared at his father, shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he whispered in disbelief. “He would have told me—”

“He didn’t know. I went through a third party to get the funds to you. All Mr. Tavárez knew was that you had a generous benefactor who wished to remain anonymous.” Lucien paused, observing Logan’s stunned and staring eyes. “I wanted it that way.”

Logan was so furious he thought his head would explode. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Lucien watched him with the barest hint of satisfaction.

Livid with rage, Logan lunged to his feet and stalked down the hall to his library, where he grabbed his checkbook and wrote out a check for five million dollars.

He stormed back into the living room and thrust the check at his father. “Here’s your repayment. With interest.”

Lucien glanced down at the check, but made no move to reach for it.

“Take it,” Logan snapped.

“No.”

“Take it!”

His father shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”

“AND I DIDN’T WANT YOURS!” Logan exploded.

Lucien flinched in the face of his fury. “You had raw talent, Logan. I didn’t want you to be robbed of the opportunity to reach your full potential.”

Logan stared at him, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “What did you say?”

Hearing the menace in his tone, Lucien swallowed nervously. “I wanted—”

“You abominable son of a bitch!” Logan roared furiously in his face. “What gives you the right to come slithering into my life after all these years? You think I owe you something just because you threw some coins my way in a pathetic attempt to compensate for your absence? You think I should be grateful to you? I was an orphan, a fucking ward of the state. I spent years bouncing between group homes and juvie halls. I got the shit beat out of me until I learned to fight back. By the time I was ten years old, I had a fucking rap sheet! You knew all that, and it still wasn’t enough to make you man up and come get me. Instead you cowered in the shadows, assuaging your conscience by anonymously sending donations so I could play hockey.” Logan sneered contemptuously. “Fuck you and your donations. I needed a father, not some spineless deadbeat with a fat wallet.”

Lucien’s face was taut and pale, his lips compressed into a thin line.

Logan had never despised anyone as much as he despised this man. It was all he could do not to spit in his face—or worse.

He thrust the check out again. “Take the money,” he bit out. “I refuse to owe you one damn cent.”

Lucien looked down at the check. “The fact that you can write a check for this amount without batting an eye makes me proud.”

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