Bluebird Page 17

  His fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls the tie free, my wavy hair springing down to my shoulders.

  “I love you Prairie,” he rasps. “So beautiful.”

  “I love you, Logan.”

  I trail my lips down his torso, over each muscular ridge and indent until I’m met with the band of his jeans. I kneel up and flick open the button, carefully sliding down the zipper. I continue to slide down his body, taking the jeans with me, along with his boots and socks. Standing at the foot of the bed, I add to the pile by removing the rest of my own clothes. When I’m fully naked, I watch his gaze turn primal as I climb back on the bed.

  “So beautiful,” he says again.

  “I’ve always felt beautiful when I’m with you,” I say honestly, leaning over his legs and nipping at the taut skin across his hip.

  He hisses and reaches for me but I stay where I am, slowly rolling down his boxers until they’re gone and I can see every inch of him. I grasp his length with one hand and squeeze before I dip down and slide my tongue from the base all the way to the tip, sucking him into my mouth. He grumbles words I can’t understand when I repeat the action. I feel powerful. I feel sexy and wanted. Some days I might crumble, but not today. Not with Logan letting me take what I want.

  “Goddamn babe,” he groans. “I need you up here.”

  “I’m not done yet,” I grin.

  “Fuck yes you are,” he grins back, pulling me up and flipping me onto my back.

  I see a brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he crushes his mouth to mine and I rock my hips up, letting him know without a doubt that this is what I want. Him and me. As it should be.

  “Logan, I need you. I need to feel you.”

  He reaches a hand between us and slides two fingers inside of me, lazily dragging them out and over my clit.

  “I need you,” I gasp. “I need this.”

  He sinks a bit deeper between my thighs and I thread my fingers into his hair, urging his mouth to meet mine. And when everything fades, and all I feel is his warm body pressed against mine, he whispers raggedly against my ear as he slides into me.

  “It’s always been you Prairie. It will always be you.”

  “I’m yours Logan. I’m yours.”

  He pulls back and enters me again, his rhythm slow and steady. Giving me everything I could ever long for with each burst of pleasure bringing me closer to the edge. Slick skin, pounding hearts and a rampant need to fall together into oblivion has my back arching up and my breath ragged.

  “Oh God, Logan, don’t stop.”

  “Never, babe. Never,” he growls, quickening his pace.

  My climax washes over me, spots of colour dancing behind my eyelids as I grip his shoulders and hold him tight. He lets go and follows me under, our lips meeting in a messy kiss, our teeth clicking together. It’s wild, it’s love and it’s ours. When he slows to a stop, I hold him still. Not ready or remotely willing to feel the absence of him.

  “You and me?” I ask.

  “Always.”

  With his head resting on my chest, I stroke his back until our breath evens out and I feel my eyelids begin to close.

  *

  I walk through the door of the busy coffee shop and spot Holly sitting in the corner. I’d called her this morning and asked if we could meet. I was reluctant to leave Logan, but he was sleeping so deeply I didn’t want to disturb him. I jotted down a quick note and told him I’d be back in an hour. With breakfast.

  “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” I say, taking the seat across from her.

  “Of course, it sounded important. And I was worried about the way you left last night,” she says, sliding one of the two coffee cups in front of me. I explain what happened last night with Logan spotting me and following me into the meeting and how he overheard everything.

  “Oh wow, honey I’m so sorry he had to find out like that. I know that’s not how you planned it.”

  “It’s not, of course. But it was okay. We talked a bit and I spent the night at his place,” I say the last part quietly and with a blush, I’m certain.

  “Prairie, there is nothing wrong with having a healthy sex life. You aren’t doomed to a life of misery because of what happened to you. And if you managed to talk some things through with Logan last night and you felt comfortable to continue being physical, that’s okay. You don’t have to slap everything on the table in one conversation and you don’t have to cease all physical contact in the meantime either, as long as you’re comfortable.”

  “I know, I just, well I know that we still have a lot to work out. But I don’t know, I just, needed him. If that makes any sense?”

  “Your healing process is your own. Only you know what you’re ready for and at what time. Everyone’s different, and you know yourself better than anyone. I’m not here to judge you,” she says. “And look just how far you’ve come over the years.”

  “Thank you,” I sigh. “I was hoping maybe I could get some references from you too.”

  “Of course.”

  “I think it would be good for us to maybe see a counselor together. I just really want to make sure we’re on the right path.”

  “And is Logan on board?”

  “I’m going to mention it this morning, and I think he will be.”

  She writes down a few different numbers, along with the names of some of her colleagues. I know in my heart that Logan will support my decision. We both want to make it work between us, of that I have no doubts.

  “There, that should be a good starting point,” she says, sliding the piece of paper across the table. “Tracey works with a lot of couples and she’s great, I think she’d be a good fit. But of course, use your discretion and do what works for you and Logan.”

  “Thanks. You’ve done so much for me, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  “You owe me nothing,” she waves dismissively. “If just one person could have gotten through to Katherine, I’d still have my sister. You, living your life and continuing to move forward is all the payment I’m ever going to need.”

  She pats my hand and we sip our coffee. We catch up a little bit on everyday stuff and she asks about Brooke.

  “She’s supposed to be moved out of the ICU today, I’m actually going to head down there this afternoon. We’re supposed to be open for business by the beginning of next week, so I want to make sure I spend some time with her this weekend.”

  “She’s lucky to have you,” Holly says with a smile.

  We say our goodbyes not long after and I make a stop at the front counter for half a dozen muffins. I walk the two blocks back to Logan’s apartment with a smile on my face knowing that he’s waiting for me. I take the old elevator up to his floor and haul the gate up. I pause just outside his door. The wood near the lock is splintered, the metal hinges hanging haphazardly.

  “Logan?” I call out.

  Silence greets me and my first reaction is to leave the way I came. But before I can talk some sense into myself, I’m inching towards the busted door and slowly pushing it open. The bakers box slips from my hands and I swallow hard. Furniture is thrown around, the coffee table smashed to pieces. My eyes scan the room but I know he isn’t here. I can feel it. I walk further into the room and that’s when I see the blood splattered across the hard wood floor. I shake myself from the shock of what I’m seeing and begin to think clearly. I check the bathroom which is empty. The large linen closet in the hallway as well. I circle the room and will my shaking hands to steady. Who could have done this? Where is he? I might not have the answers but I’m betting I know who will.

  Zavier Kane.

  I act on my first impulse, rushing back downstairs and hailing the first cab I see. I rattle off the address of the club and tamp down my panic. When we arrive at Delve, I toss my money at the driver and bolt from the back seat. I don’t know how much time Logan has, I don’t know if he’s okay. But I do know that he would rip the city apart to find me, and I’ll do the same for him.

/>   I figure I’ll have better luck at the back door, so I head for the alleyway and when I spot the large black steel door, I bang on it as hard as I can. My hands are numb by the time someone finally opens the door. He’s a large man in a well tailored suit. He looks me up and down and offers me little more than a smirk.

  “We’re closed sweetheart,” he says, the door slowly beginning to close. I shoot my foot out and stop it.

  “I’m here to see Zavier Kane,” I state with all the confidence I can muster. “It’s about Logan.”

  He leaves the door open as he speaks into his wrist, repeating what I’ve just told him. When he steps aside, I assume this means I’m allowed in and I squeeze past him.

  “Straight up the stairs to your left,” he directs. “You got ten minutes before I haul you out.”

  I head for the staircase and suddenly my mind is filled with images of old school mobsters. I picture a gang of thugs around a poker table, mouths watering at such a naïve girl like myself. When I reach the landing, I turn and see the door in question is open. I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. When I reach the doorway, every stereotype in my mind vanishes and is replaced by blatant confusion.

  The man sitting behind the desk is clearly powerful, it oozes from his expensive suit and his perfectly groomed features. He looks up and offers me a smile.

  “Well hello there sugar, and who might you be?”

  He drawls each word out as if he has all the time in the world. He reminds me of Doc Holliday from that Tombstone movie. He is definitely not what I was expecting.

  “My name is Prairie, I’m a friend of Logan’s.”

  “Ahh, and suddenly it all makes sense,” he realizes with a Cheshire grin. “And what can I do for you, Prairie?”

  “It’s Logan, somethings happened.”

  I forget my apprehension and take one of the leather seats in front of his large desk. I recap what I found at Logan’s apartment, blurting the words out in a steady stream laced with panic.

  “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know where he is. But I’ve heard of you and I know that Logan is more than just security here at the club.”

  “Mmhm, that he is. I’ll make some calls and-“

  “Make some calls?! Are you fucking kidding me?”

  My temper flares at every lost second. I might not be privy to the underground workings of this city, but I’m smart enough to know that this guy has money. And power. And as far as I’m concerned, he can do a hell of a lot better than make some calls. I stand from my seat and jab a finger in his direction, my words laced with venom.

  “You listen to me, I don’t care what you do here in this club. But if you don’t help me I swear I’ll make your life hell.”

  “Prairie?”

  I turn at the sound of my name and a sigh of relief escapes my parted lips. Trevor.

  “He’s gone, somethings wrong,” I blurt out. I explain everything to Trevor and stumble over the urgency in my voice.

  He looks to Zavier whose eyes are pinned on me, a smug smile resting on his traditionally handsome face.

  “We gonna do something about this, or what?” Trevor asks him. “You know it’s gotta be Santos. He’s had it out for Logan for months now.”

  I turn and narrow my eyes at Zavier, silently daring him to do anything less than his best effort.

  “Very well,” he concedes. “I’ll phone Caesar and see if he knows where his dear nephew is hiding out. Take Levi and Bobby with you.”

  Trevor nods curtly and before he heads out, he puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Go home and I’ll call you as soon as I find him.”

  “I can’t just sit around and do nothing,” I insist.

  “You have to. That’s how you help him Prairie. You let us handle this.”

  “Okay,” I relent. “Just…find him. Please.”

  Before he’s out the door, Zavier calls him back, his tone casual, “And Trevor, do try to keep it clean. I’ve got tickets to the ballet tonight.”

  Who is this guy?

  “Will that be all, or would you perhaps like to reiterate your previous threat since we were so rudely interrupted?” he asks me.

  “I’ve heard about you,” I begin.

  “Fear not, Logan’s friend. It can’t all be true.”

  Before I turn to leave, I gather my courage one last time. I don’t know the extent of Logan’s connection to this guy. But I have to try.

  “You don’t know me, and you probably don’t really know Logan for that matter,” I add with a bitter laugh. “He’s always thought of me as a girl that needs to be set free. A girl that deserves better things. But he’s always been wrong about that. Logan’s spent most of his life trapped. He’s the one in the cage. Whatever he owes you…please just let it go.”

  I leave his office before he can respond, finally allowing myself to let go of the breath I was holding. I head straight home and wait for Trevor’s call. It isn’t until the sky is dark and the city is lit up with twinkling lights that my phone finally rings and everything in my world stops.

  Chapter 27

  Logan

  When I come to, the coppery scent of blood fills my nostrils. The room is dark. It takes me a few tries to keep my heavy eyelids open and to realize that there’s something over my head. There’s a throbbing in my head that drums at a steady rhythm as I try to sift through my scrambled thoughts. I search beyond the pain and darkness surrounding me, trying to figure out where exactly the fuck I am.

  When I woke up this morning, Prairie was gone. Her note said she was getting breakfast and coming right back. I remember standing in the kitchen when the door was kicked in and…Santos. That greasy mother fucker and three of his thugs stormed in through the busted doorframe and I had no time to react before a lead pipe hit me in the ribs. I could have fought through that but the hit to my head knocked me out cold. Bile rises up my throat when I realize that I have no idea if these fuckers took Prairie too. I’ll fucking kill them if they touch her, I know that much.

  I test the rope binding my wrists but it’s wound too tight. Identical to the rope securing my ankles to the chair I’m sitting on. The creak of a door halts my movements. Footsteps echo against the floor but I keep my mouth shut until the cloth bag is ripped from my head.

  “Quit playin’ mother fucker, I know you’re awake,” Santos growls.

  I look him in the eye, he’s high as a kite and twitching like crazy. When his fist connects with my jaw, I spit the blood onto the concrete floor and take the opportunity to glance at the room around me. A basement. No windows. And two fuckers with guns blocking the only exit. Great.

  “No way out mother fucker,” he boasts.

  “This is your fucking plan? Tie me to a chair and beat the shit out of me? You’re a fucking little bitch Santos,” I spit.

  He hits me again, my vision blurs but I shake it off. I need to buy some time until I can figure out how the fuck to get out of here.

  “You think I’m gonna stop there, white boy?” he seethes. “That guy you beat up the other night, that was my cousin Hector. First, I’m gonna repay that debt. Then, I’m gonna fucking kill you, amigo.”

  There’s a wild look in his eyes as he threatens me and I actually fucking believe him. He’s close enough that I slam my head against his, the crunch of cartilage loud enough for me to hear above the blood pumping through my veins.

  “Mother fucker! Fuck this asshole up!” he demands, wiping the gush of blood from his nose.

  I struggle against the rope as a lead pipe connects with my shin, pain splintering up my leg. The next hit is to my ribs, followed by my left kneecap. I keep struggling, keep fighting. I have to get back to her. It’s the only thought in my mind. I’m numb to the pain as adrenaline courses through my veins and the hits keep coming. My vision is blurring as I struggle to keep my eyes open.

  I have to get back to her.

  “Prai..rie.”

  “Hold up, hold up, what was that? You calling out f
or your bitch you piece of shit? Oh, don’t you worry about her. We were watching when she strolled her fine ass out of your apartment this morning. We’ll go back for her later and have some real fun.”

  I tug as hard as I can, wrath and blind fury consuming me until I feel one of the ropes around my wrists snap. My hand is around Santos’ neck, heaving him forward in a matter of seconds. I squeeze as hard as I can, watching his beady little eyes bulge under the strain of pressure. He’s gasping and flailing his arms around when he’s suddenly torn from my grip and my head snaps back from another blow. I thrash until the chair tips over and kick my legs as hard as I can. I can’t hear anything. I can’t see anything. The glint of metal catches my gaze as I continue to struggle against the rope around my ankles. Everything that happens next is in slow motion. The joyful smirk that curls his lips, the two bastards that grab a hold of my arms and pin me still. Santos raises his weapon and aims for my chest. Everything in the world stops when I realize that this is it. I close my eyes. When the sound of a single gunshot rings out and echoes against the walls in this fucking cage, my only regret is that I didn’t get to see her face one last time.

  *

  My limbs feel heavy, my throat and mouth dry. There’s a throbbing pain coursing through my body, but I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. The mere thought of opening my eyes right now exhausts me. A constant beeping is the only thing I hear and when I move my hand slightly, my fingers brush against soft strands of hair. I muster my strength and open my eyes, squinting against the harsh light of the hospital room surrounding me. I look down at Prairie, her head resting on the bed, her arm draped over my legs protectively. I clear my throat, knowing that my words will be hoarse and that’s when she begins to stir. She looks up at me sleepily.