Page 39 of Tortured Eyes
Sixteen
“You’re not making any sense. Why are you saying all of this?” My head throbs like a motherfucker, and the shit Logan's saying doesn’t make sense. It’s a challenge to focus on him, but as the seconds tick on, it gets easier. My mind is a fog and every time I try to remember, the images disappear like smoke, just like snatching at a dream in the morning. But I remember I felt good. I ignore Logan for a moment and mentally check myself over. I feel different… used. In a good way. Sore. If my circumstances were different, I might be cheering, but given my gaping memory, I’m pretty sure what happened isn’t something I want to recall right now.
My stomach drops at the repercussions. Thank fuck I’m at least covered by the injection.
“You heard, Red. Must be good to get all the facts." He moves to refill his drink again. "Shame you can't use any of it."
What? I play catch up and shake the bad feeling away. After everything Logan’s just said, all I need to do is get him on record. “Really? You’re my missing link. You’re the piece of this fucking puzzle I couldn’t figure out. For all those years, I couldn’t find a way in, and you’ve handed me everything on a plate.” Despite the situation, there’s got to be a silver lining. If I can take down the Cane empire and finally pin something on them that will stick, then I can rest easy and go back to looking for the rest of the scumbags in this town.
The gloating smile that spreads across his face turns my stomach.
“You’ll never take this to the cops.”
“Why are you so confident?” His arrogant tone and attitude are beginning to grate on me. It's like he has a split personality. One minute he's charming and sexy, the next he shows me the type of Cane monster I’ve seen in the crime files. So many questions yet to answer, and it feels like I’m working through a maze of memories and truth. Focusing too hard on any one thing, though, provides another layer of pain to my already aching head.
“Because you think you’re so much better than everyone. Holding that badge of yours like a shield, immune to everything bad around you. It doesn’t work like that. The world I run, the world we live in is all about power, and I hold it. Not you. The Cane name paved the way for whatever we chose, and cops, politicians and anyone of importance and influence bend over backwards to ensure we're happy.”
“That’s not real power,” I scoff. Although, I know many that will turn the other way if it means helping out one of the cartels in this city.
“Seemed enticing enough for some of the most loyal police officers.”
The way he speaks and emphasises those words sends a worrying chill over my body. I ignore his teasing words—I refuse to rise to his taunts. This is all just another part of his game.
“What’s all of this got to do with me not reporting what you’ve done to me?” I bring the conversation back to where it started, and why he’s so confident that he’ll get away with what he’s done.
“Because you’ll do just as your father did.”
“Yes, and?” All of this is getting tiring, and why is he bringing up my father?
“Your father was on the take, just like half the cops in the CPD.”
“No.” I shake my head at his words. He's lying, using my dad to hurt me further.
“Poor little Red." He chuckles and tilts his gaze away from me. "Respected members of the CPD are useful. No one questions their authority. And when evidence gets lost in the chain of custody, no one blinks.”
“No.” I try to block out the words, refusing to consider that his version of my father could ever exist.
“And you’ll be just like him. You’ll do as I say to keep the evidence of your father’s crimes from ever surfacing. It’s a simple equation. What you want isn’t as important as keeping his name clear, and so maybe I'll use you, too.”
“Stop it,” I growl out. “I don’t believe you. You’re making this shit up.” But his words are already eating their way through the memories of my dad—memories I hold so dear. Now, I’m looking for my own evidence to what Logan's saying. Is there anything that will substantiate his accusations? It would help if I could think straight. My head rages its own war, and I'm coming off the victim.
Logan takes a seat behind his desk and twists the laptop around towards me.
“Knock yourself out. You can have all the access you want.” He pushes back in his office chair and kicks his feet up like we're playing another game, and he has nothing to lose. Getting my hands on inside information about the Cane empire will be like winning the lottery. I’ll finally have the evidence that I need to close the cases my dad worked on. My brows furrow. Why was that so important to him if he was in bed with the Canes? I still feel like I'm missing something.
“You’d give me access to your files?”
“I’m feeling generous. Plus, you’ll never believe me unless I give you the proof about your father.” His face falls back to the sexy, charming man he can be, and I’m reminded of how dangerous he is. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for my answer. My eyes flick between him and the computer as if this is another trick, and if I take the bait, I’ll end up worse off for it again.
“I don’t understand how my father is involved,” I protest again, still at odds with the information he’s offering. “He kept all of those cases. He was always talking about the Canes and how corrupt they were. It’s the one thing he asked of me before he died.” As the words escape, emotion chokes my throat, threatening to overtake and run free. But that’s unacceptable now. I can’t show Logan any weakness. He’ll use anything he can to exploit me, including the connection he knows we have—the obsession that has grown inside of me.
“Guilt, I guess. He took the money and looked the other way.” Logan’s words slice through me, tearing down the image I've held so highly of my father. "Most of which probably paid for the food in your stomach, Red, the roof over your head. We pay off well."
“Drug deals, murders? He wouldn’t have been involved in all of that,” I argue, sure that my father would never have involved himself in the crimes he knew the Canes were responsible for.
“No, but he played his part, ensuring how untouchable we were. Still are." His hands go behind his head, relaxed there as if this is all on his terms. The move exposes his toned chest, his shirt falling open. "Pretty ironic that you killed the most decent of us all. Nate worked his whole life to change what Cane does. For the last ten years, it’s all been legit. Clean. Thanks to him and Carter. And you killed that.”
“I did not kill your uncle!” I scream at him. I stare him in the eye, daring him to keep challenging me. “And I refuse to believe any more of your lies until I see it for myself.” I drag one of the chairs from across the room and plant it in front of his desk, pulling the laptop towards me and shrugging the blanket off my skin. Screw covering myself. I'm pissed now. The box for the password illuminates when I press the mouse pad. “Well?” I look up expectantly.
