Page 47 of Tortured Eyes
“The people of Chicago deserve better? What bullshit is that? You’ve no idea about the people you claim to protect. Or me.”
“You’re a fucking drug dealer, Logan. You deal in anything and everything that will get you ahead. Your father killed anyone who didn’t agree with him, Nate covering his ass constantly."
His hands wrap around my upper arms too quickly for me to block, and he squeezes me uncomfortably hard. I grit my teeth and try to yank away, try to show him my disgust at his world. Nothing changes. He holds me in a vice, his scowl deepening. Whatever. He's going to hear it all whether he likes it or not. "And now the one good thing in the Cane world has been killed as a result, hasn't he, Logan? He's dead because of your own selfishness.”
He's impossibly still. I stare into his eyes, holding my nerve until a slow smile starts to emerge from his features. “You will lose this argument, Red." Something about the smile turns nefarious, showing the villain again, the switch seeming so fucking easy for him. "And while I've enjoyed you fucking me willingly, I’ll force you against that tree and take what I want from you if you don’t close that mouth down.”
“And here I was thinking you had all the women falling to their knees to please you without force.”
The hard shove he delivers pushes me away, and my feet stumble a little over the rocky ground until I regain my balance. Asshole. I take the space to breathe in a steadying breath, trying to think clearly. Acting the hero now might cost me my life considering the look on his face.
“You're a mouthy bitch. Perhaps you’ll shut the fuck up when you know the truth.” This smile doesn’t just hint at how gorgeous he is; this smile is saved for when he knows he’s got you right where he wants you and he’s about to strike, leaving his prey none the wiser.
“How’s your arm?”
“What?” I fire back. I have a range of bruises all over my body. Trying to identify a specific injury is going to take some doing. Not that I care. I'm still trying to work out the theory of why the fuck I had sex with him at all.
“The crook of your elbow. Take a look. You’ll see what I mean.”
My body heats at the same time as my stomach drops through the floor. I knew I’d lost some memories; I just couldn’t work out why. Hazy visions and a thunderous headache were a giveaway. And the feeling that I had sex without even remembering. The beat of my heart triples and vibrates against my chest bone. The dread swells inside of me and what Logan might tell me. Ishrug out of the jacket and pull up the loose clothing on my arms regardless, wanting to see it for myself. I look at one, then the other, and see it—a small puncture wound, red and a little angry. My finger ghosts over the mark as my mind claws to find the missing time. A feeling, perhaps. A memory of feeling happy and content. And the image of a cross. It’s all wrapped up in a dreamy state, which is what I put it down to when fragments of those images floated around in my head.
“You were one hell of a fuck first time round, Red. You spread those fine legs so eagerly.” I shake my head in denial, but I know the truth behind the words as he says them. "Aggressive fucking is one thing, but you offering yourself up and seducing me is a good memory. I even taped it for posterity. Useful to look back on." My eyes squeeze closed, mind trying to ignore the truth. It was all just part of this nightmare. I wasn’t in control of my actions. My mind races to find a reason, a justification for the way I behaved. “You were on fire like that. Hungry. You couldn’t get enough.”
Logan circles me, closing in on each turn. Everything in me tenses, like all the bad shit that’s happened is finally wanting to break free and escape, and I have to keep it in check. He finally reaches where I’m rooted to the spot,his knees bent to get in my face. “And do you want to know the best part?” The handsome and charming man I first met, who I’ve seen glances of, is suddenly no more. In his place is an evil and wickedly cruel face only set on causing pain.
“It was all me. Everything you’ve felt, everything you’ve seen since you came into my world, it was me.”
I try to process his words and look for the sense they should be making, but it’s like I’ve missed something. He laughs.
“And still she's so confused. Stupid bitch. I was the one you had to fight. I knocked you out at the apartment, and then when you thought I was helping and cleaning you of the mess I'd made, I shot you full of drugs and reaped the rewards when you were horny as fuck.” He carries on chuckling at me as the words finally clear, and I see the real picture behind the last few days. "Had some myself. Good shit."
Something inside of me snaps. The threads of my sanity I’d been desperate to cling to finally short circuit. I can’t feel anything. I’m numb. I wrap my arms around my body, trying to protect myself from him.
“Why?” I utter.
“Because it's all your fault,Red.” He grits his teeth, and one hard push sends me flying backwards. "You started it. And one of the only good men in my life is dead. Because of you."
“Arghhh!” I surge forward from my position and barrel into him, sweeping his leg and knocking him to the ground. “You bastard. You sick, twisted fuck.” I rain down punches on him, all the while thinking back to the feeling of helplessness that I endured in that room. The room where I was jabbed and pushed and struck, totally disorientated. All of the frustration and aggression powers through me. Flesh meets flesh, and before I know it, we’re wrestling on the ground, each trying to get the upper hand. Now we’re more evenly matched, I sink deep and find every advantage I can, trying to ignore the continued chuckles coming from his mouth.
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” I scream at him. He’s ripped my world apart and left it in tatters on the floor. First, with my body physically, then with the memory and betrayal of my father, and now this—his own betrayal and violation of my body and my mind.
He pushes me back from my position and rolls me, using his weight to overpower me and trap me under him.
“Perhaps I should have, but I wanted to make you suffer.” The red-hot anger burning through me is simmering in Logan. I can see it in his eyes. “Nate suffered. I suffered. You fucking suffer.”
I was terrified in that room. The men I thought were with me… and all the time it was him? I still in his hold, some part of me breaking and crumbling further inside, as I try to hold onto the fact that I did not kill Nate Cane. But my voice is wavering as I look into his eyes. It's quiet in my head, lost and confused in what this has become between us.
“You’ve just validated everything I’ve ever thought about your family. You will step over everyone and anyone to get what you want, and God help those in your way. Isn’t that right? Why did you even bother trying to keep up the pretence?”
He doesn't speak, not one word to give a damn idea of what's going on in his head. He just bores his stare into me, as if he's barely restraining himself from something I refuse to acknowledge. “What, Logan? You owe me that. Is there any good in your life? Anything decent and honest? Because right now, I don’t believe you have it in you to be anything but the same as your family name. Ruthless, vile, and without fucking hope.”
“I don't owe you shit.”
His voice echoes in the clearing and birds scatter from their nearby roosts, but his hands loosen slightly. It's enough that I try moving backwards, try to put some fucking distance between us again. "And I'm not explaining a damn thing about my life outside of this."
Outside of this? A busted laugh cackles out of me as his thigh presses against my core. This is so screwed up. I hate him, loathe him for what he's done to me, but it's still not stopping me looking at his mouth.
“There is no outside of this. This is all you, Logan, isn't it? Fucking heartless. Hopeless. I don't know why you don't just kill me and get it over with," I mutter as my feet falter, trying to pull from his grip. "Then you can go back to whatever piece of goodness you think you have left in your life." He suddenly lets go completely at that, his eyes still watching me like a hawk. "Maybe whoever it is can help you forget all the things you’ve done to me. Forgive you for it."
