Page 19 of Winter's End

Carson wanted to meet to present an absolute shit business deal with another mob family on the other side of Carlisle, insisting it was a ‘sure-thing.’ It was a sure way to get fucking jailed; I’d had enough of that threat over my head to last a fucking lifetime. I told him I’d look into it.

When he invited me to the bathroom for a quick snort, it took every fiber of my weak-willed being not to say yes, but I distracted myself with Winter’s long legs in those heels on stage to stay steadfast with my refusal.

When he realized the conversation was over, he left. I stayed to listen to the end of the set, hoping to speak to Winter again before she left too, but she and Travis mysteriously disappeared after their last song.

Fucker.

I reluctantly got up from the table of glasses—all delicious remnants ofwater—and glimpsed Cam in the front hallway.

“Chase!” I barked, hurrying to catch up with him.

When Hill had asked me to train Winter with her panic attacks, it had given me another idea. It involved working with a man who fucking hated me, but if it was for Winter, I was betting he’d play ball.

“What do you want, Pretty Boy?” He folded his arms across his chest and glowered at me.

A lesser man would fear Cameron Chase—his broad muscles and towering stance enough to make men cower. I wasn’t scared of Chase. He was a philosopher in a body-builder’s skin. He could bite me, but he was mostly all bark.

“I think you should teach Winter how to fight.” I went for the direct approach, figuring I’d only get a minute of his time before he walked away.

“Excuse me?” His jaw ticked with anger. “Who the fuck do you?—”

“Listen,” I interrupted, my argument already on the tip of my tongue. “I’m going to work with her on her panic attacks. I have—experience—in that area. But she should know how to fight, too. We’re all caught up in this shit, and I want her prepared the next time we’re caught by surprise.”

He continued to glare at me, not budging an inch. No surprise there. The southern oaf had the temperament of a grizzly bear and the emotional range of a carrot.

“Just think about it. You can use the gym in my building. It’s private with a passcode.”

I walked out to my car, the events of the day finally taking their toll on me. I had held out—no drugs—and had some help in taking care of some of the shit piling up to take me down.

I sank into the driver’s seat, taking a breather before making the drive home. A crushing weight caught my windpipe from behind.

I choked against the hold, the inability to breathe darkening my vision with spots and stars.

“That was quite the display at the wedding.” Georgio’s voice was cool, calculated and measured. “I wonder what you told the FBI to be released so quickly, hmm? Awfully suspicious, Logan.”

He tsked, and I could only gurgle out a response as the hand applied more pressure. I was going to pass out in seconds.

I was beginning to actually fear for my life when the hand suddenly released me. I sagged against the seat, coughing violently in a vain attempt to bring air into my lungs.

“What did you give them in exchange, Logan? It’s best you speak honestly, or you will find yourself the unlucky victim of an overdose.”

Fuck. FUCK.

My brain scrambled to find the right words—any words—to get myself out of this.

Think, Logan. You’re a smooth talker, a brilliant businessman. Think.

“It was a fucking prank, all right?” I spewed angrily, mustering up as much surly indignation as possible. “Bribing an official? You know how stupid I would have to be todo that? They were false charges from an enemy that wanted to fuck up my wedding and piss Hillary off. And it fucking worked, okay?”

I took a moment to breathe. Talk too fast, they know you’re lying. Talk too slow, and they know you’re grasping.

“They knew I was seeing Winter and brought her into it, too, just to fuck with me. Hillary’s pissed at me. Winter is pissed at me, and now I have to watch my every move with the IRS for the next ten fucking years. I’m going to bury that guy.”

Silence. The pause felt like fifteen fucking years as I waited for my gamble to pay off. Finally, Georgio’s voice hovered in the car.

“I hope that’s the case, Logan. I really do. Stanley is a dear friend, but that doesn’t mean you are exempt from retribution.”

Two car doors clicked behind me, and it took a second to realize Angelo had been the one collapsing my trachea, not Georgio. Of course, the man never did his own dirty work.

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