Page 80 of Tortured Eyes
Twenty-Eight
Silence descends around us, which is stupid because I know it’s not suddenly gone quiet. It’s my mind, blocking everything out for me. My eyes scan over the scene. Mason is lying face down on the ground, a pool of liquid seeping from his head onto the concrete. His gun is a few feet from his hand where he dropped it. Logan is swaying next to me.
I concentrate on making my mind accept the consequences of my actions. I watched Mason go for his gun, aiming for Logan. Yes, it was clear, my next movement was automatic. Logan was unarmed and not a threat. He was bleeding because he’d been shot, for god's sake. That didn’t matter to Mason, though. Logan coming here has messed up his nice arrangement, all the money he makes, and he was clearly so pissed he couldn’t do anything but lash out.
So, I defended Logan. I saved him by pulling the trigger and killing another human. He was a cop. We all know the score. Kill or be killed. Except, Mason wasn’t aiming at me. Self-defence won’t work here.
A loud thud and the sound of sirens less than a block away makes me turn my head. I see Logan collapsed on the ground, a few feet away from Mason’s dead body.
“Logan?” I holster my gun, immediately panicking that Mason still managed to lodge a bullet in him and close the distance to check on him.
His head hangs forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, his body looking totally wrecked. I kneel down next to him and try to assess the damage.
“What the fuck did you do that for? You shot a cop.” His words are gritted out from behind pain-clenched teeth.
“I know… I know what I did. I need to get you to the hospital," I stutter. "Or you need to get you to a hospital."
“Look at me. Look. At. Me.” The hand of his good arm holds my face, and we stare at each other for a moment. It must only be a second, but it's enough time for the weight of my actions to run through my mind. And then the worry in his eyes kick-starts my own.
“I shot him.” My voice quivers. “I shot him because I thought he was going to shoot you, which is totally stupid. I mean, why would I defend you of all people. And why did I shoot him? I could have stepped in front of him, talked to him, knee-capped him, for fuck’s sake.” My voice grows in volume and panic as the thoughts all cascade through my mind.
I stand, leaving Logan on the ground for a moment, and pace, trying to look at this from some other angle. An angle that doesn’t have me shooting another officer in defence of a known criminal. “I shot a cop. I killed a cop.” My mind won’t let me forget those two bits of information, and I end up throwing my hands into the air for some goddamned clarity. What the hell have I done?
“Red, you need to calm down.”
My head spins back to stare at him, and I laugh. Really? Is he delirious? “What the fuck, Logan? I just killed someone. Don’t tell me to calm down. It might be a common occurrence for you, but it’s a big, fucking deal for me, okay?"
He looks up and stares right into my eyes. “You need to arrest me.”
“Arrest you? No. Hell, I just shot Mason. Why would I arrest you now after everything that’s happened?”
“Becauseyou just shot Mason, that’s why." He looks over at the body bleeding out,barely any interest in the blood I've just shed. "You killed a cop, and that’s gonna cause all kinds of shit for you, Red. Give me your gun while you’re at it. Those goddamned sirens are nearly here.”
“Logan?” I kneel down beside him again as my stomach churns with dread. The tone and seriousness of his voice send a chill of fear down my spine. His face is ashen, and blood still oozes out from his wound, trickling down his arm.
“Red, do this. I don’t have time to argue. Call it rebalance.” His voice is soft, almost caring, and it threatens to awaken a piece of my heart that I thought was never there. But I can feel it kickstarting, the clench inside becoming alive and pounding for someone else. “I don’t have time for permission, either.”
He slides his hand around my neck and pulls me to him. Warm lips press to mine, and in this moment, I know that this man, in some shape or form, is going to leave a scar on my heart that no other man will ever be able to erase. The kiss is so gentle, so… timid… it almost breaks my heart right here, tears it in two like my mind is splitting with it. For all of the violence and hatred we’ve been through, it’s pretty mind-blowing that we could even think of sharing such a moment.
“I promise I’ll ask permission when we’re not on a timescale,” he murmurs.
His comment could be considered sweet if circumstances were different, and I smile at the thought as I lean back. A faint smile of his own traces his face. So damn handsome. Even in this scenario. I shouldn't notice really. I should be remembering who he is and what he's capable of, what he's done to me, but this moment is something new. Serene even. And then I notice his other hand. He’s pulled my gun, which is now covered in his blood. Asshole. So much for sweet.
“Don’t make me ask you again. Arrest me, Red. Arrest me before you’re in too deep and I can’t get you out.”
“What about you?” I look up and see the red and blue lights at the end of the alley.
“You need to trust me, and don’t even pretend that you haven’t started to.”
“Logan, this is so fucked up.”
“And getting you out of custody isn’t in my skill set right now. Me getting out? Plausible. You need to go see my father.” He puffs out, struggling to breathe properly as he tries moving. "Cuffs. Now. Read me my rights or whatever crap it is you people do."
I sit him up and grab my cuffs from my belt. “I can’t cuff you when your arm’s bleeding, Logan. And all they need to do is run ballistics, and the shot will come back as my gun. This isn’t going away.”
“Why do you think my hand is on it? I took the gun from you because Mason was going to shoot you. Easy." He puts his wrists together out in front. “Get on with it.”
I ease them on while running all of the ways this is going to backfire through my mind. “What do I need to tell your dad?”
