Page 32 of Tortured Eyes
Comfort.
“Logan?” I blink, head swinging to the sound of Carter’s voice. He stands there in the middle of my hall, blood-drenched skin lining the contours of his body, scar rippled across his chest and neck. “You alright?” Who fucking knows anymore?
I sneer and look him over once more, trying to imagine him in his office in a suit now that I’ve seen this from him again. That man’s gone now. Discarded and left to rot while this version does what needs doing. That’s control for you, I’ll give him that. But fuck control.
Fuck being controlled.
I turn and crash through the door without answering him, feet pushing me down to her. I don’t know if I’m alright or not. How does anyone know that? I’m delivering; that's what I’m doing. Samuel needs to get the hell out of my head.
She gasps as I enter the room, feet tripping over themselves to get away from me. I watch her, looking at eyes I can see now she's got the blindfold off.
“Sit,” I snap, nodding at the one chair in the room.
She looks at me, eyes wide and tangled red hair all matted up, and then holds firm against the back wall rather than do as I’ve ordered. I scan her over, looking at all the knocks she’s taken flaring on her skin. She glares at me, no fucks given about the state of her torn-up tee or her exposed body. “Easy or hard, Red. I don’t give a fuck which one. Either way, you’re getting cleaned up.”
I dump the bucket of water and grab the cloths from my pocket, waiting.
“Where are we?” she asks, still staying on that wall.
“What difference does that make?” I murmur, dunking the cloth in the water and crooking my finger at her. “Get over here and sit your ass down.”
“How long have I been here?”
I don’t answer. I wait for her to comply before I have to make her. I’d rather not given that Samuel was in my head less than two minutes ago, but she keeps disobeying me, and I’ll forget every kind thing he’s ever uttered in my presence. “I’ll need to clock in, Logan. I’ll be missed if I’m not in the precinct. They’ll come looking for me.”
I nod at the chair again. As if I give a fuck about people coming looking for her. Last damn place they’re gonna come looking for her is a Chicago mansion up in Lake Forest. Especially if it’s owned by a Cane. “You’ve got no fucking idea who you’ve pissed on, have you?”
Her eyes flick around, but nerves and tension don’t keep her from looking at the door behind me. I look back at it, then return my stare to her, offering my hand at her option of escape. “You wanna try your luck at that? With your hands still bound?” I ask, licking my lips. “Go for it. It’ll give me more reason to not give a fuck.”
She frowns and sidesteps, then thinks better of it and looks at the chair I’m waiting by. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Clean you. You look a mess.” I look around her, noting the liquid in the corner. "And then you can clean your piss from the floor."
“No, thanks. On either count.”
“I’m running out of patience, Red. You sure you don’t want the easy way?”
I give her a few minutes to think that last offer over, my hand dunking the cloth again so I can wash the blood off my own hands. She watches me do it, her brow furrowing as she glances at the dividing wall between her and Emilio. As if on fucking cue a garbled shout rings through the wall, Emilio’s voice wailing in pain. I smile and keep washing my hands down, amused that big brother’s enjoying his time.
“Who’s that?” she asks, more nerves in her tone.
“What’s left of Emilio Mortoni.” Her eyes widen, feet inching back into a corner. “Gonna be you, too, pretty soon if you don’t sit your ass down.”
“I didn’t shoot your uncle, Logan.”
“No, he did,” I reply, flicking my gaze to the room next door. I keep washing my hands down, listening to another thud against the wall. A low laugh follows the sound, Carter starting to fully lose his cool I expect. That’s my brother in there, the one I trusted. Loved even. “But you instigated it, Red. Your fault. My father’s not fucking happy about that information.”
“Your father?” she questions, shock all over her features. “This is because of him?”
“Everything’s because of him. Every fucking thing.” She moves, her feet inching along the floor until they begin walking towards the chair. “I’ve got no choice. Family, you know?” She reaches me and looks at my knuckles, then back to the wall.
“You’ve been in there?”
I nod, no fucking pretence about it. “And now someone else is. Then me again. Until we’re happy to let him die.” She hovers, head tilted as if she doesn’t know what to do or say. “No one kills a Cane and gets away with it,Red." Another shift of her feet, the actuality of what she's part of starting to sink into that skull of hers.
“And what about me?” she asks, now she knows the fate of Mortoni.
I’m not going to give that away. Where’s the fun in that. "You gonna sit down, or am I gonna have to make you?”
Her ass sits.
