He hadn’t thought about any of this when he was at The Club. He hadn’t thought about his friends. He hadn’t thought about Jamie and Hope and Noah. They had been somewhere in the distance. He hadn’t been upset he’d missed their wedding then. Now he thought about the fact that Jamie Glen, the manwhore of Bliss County, had gotten married and Logan hadn’t been around to rib the holy fuck out of him. He’d missed the bachelor party. It had been thrown by Max and Rye, but it should have been Logan. Logan was closer to them. Once.
He hadn’t had to think about that in Dallas.
He hadn’t thought about his mommas or how they were getting older, frailer. He hadn’t had to consider that they worried about him, that he might cause stress between them. He hadn’t worried that he was an irreplaceable cog in the family machine. He’d been single and on his own and thinking of no one but himself. He liked to laugh at the child he’d been, but at least that child had taken responsibility seriously. The adult he’d become seemed to just want to forget.
His eyes stole toward Nate’s office. People weren’t the only things he hadn’t needed to think about. He hadn’t thought about that day. Not consciously. Sometimes in Dallas, whole hours would go by before he remembered. Damn, but he remembered that door. He recalled every streak on the wood, every panel. The door had been left open.
It hadn’t been that day. The door had been closed. He remembered it vividly. They laid him out on the desk, arms and legs tied down, and he’d looked up and watched the door close. Every inch that disappeared was another mile into hell. When it had shut entirely, his world was changed forever.
Was his momma right? Was he allowing a few hours of pain to take away a lifetime of love and joy? How the hell did he fix it? He couldn’t come back here full time. He couldn’t be a deputy for the rest of his life, but did he want the half life he had in Dallas? Did he want his only connection to his friend and the woman he cared about to be through a stinking five-page contract that Leo had faxed over? It wasn’t even a personalized contract. There were little lines for the Dominants and submissive to place their name. Shouldn’t they at least have a contract that had been written specifically for them?
Stef would be able to write it up, but he knew damn well he wasn’t going to Stefan Talbot. Julian wouldn’t write a contract for someone he had never met, never put through his rigorous tests and slightly intrusive questionnaires. He could just see Georgia’s face when Julian Lodge asked her about her feelings on having a cock shoved up her ass. He would have to get in between the big Dom and his sweet-faced, smart-mouthed sub or Armageddon would occur quickly.
His eyes strayed back to Nate’s office, the door wide open, a gift basket of horrors. Oh, they could clean up the blood, get rid of the implements of his torture, but the room was still there. He could still feel that first breath of horror, hear the slap of flesh striking his. Funny. He’d heard it before he felt it, as though his brain couldn’t process what his ears could for the barest of moments. He’d thought, just for a second, that it wouldn’t be so bad because it didn’t hurt. He could survive. He could make it through this.
And then his nerve endings had screamed to life.
He was taken out of his rotten memories by the sound of his cell pinging. Text.
People here really like their guns. I think I can make them prettier, though. Ordering a BeDazzler ASAP. Having fun with your momma, but what’s up with all the tofu? Pick up meat for dinner. Will cook for sex. XOXO, Georgia
And then there was a flurry of emoticons that Georgia seemed to believe every message required. There were three hearts, one red, one blue, one green, and multiple kissy lips and a dolphin. He kind of thought she just threw those in to be surreal, but he couldn’t help but smile. He quickly sent her one back.
You’re not bedazzling my gun, baby, but I will feed you some sausage tonight. You better be ready to open wide.
He stared down at the message. He sounded almost normal, like he was her boyfriend and they were playing. He deleted the message and set down the phone.
Damn it. He liked her. He’d said they couldn’t be friends, but they already were. He liked her sassiness and wanted to text her all day. He wanted to take a picture of his dick and see if she was really as sassy as she liked to play at.
But she was with his momma and his momma had no compunction about looking on someone’s phone. He could imagine the lecture he would get about sexting and keeping his junk in his pants.
And damn it, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She hadn’t even signed a contract yet.
The doors to the outer office opened, and Logan tensed briefly before forcing himself to relax. He wasn’t some dumb kid anymore. He had his gun and he wasn’t afraid to use it.
And then he was seriously thinking about using it because Alexei Markov walked through the inner doors, the big Russian pulling off his cap as he looked around. “Gemma? Sheriff?”
It would be so simple, so easy to just shoot the fucker and be done. He could have his pistol out in a second and it would all be over. Alexei had sent him to hell. It was only proper to return the favor.
And what would that solve, Logan? You wouldn’t be killing the person who really let you down. That man would still be walking and talking, but he would be in an orange jumpsuit, having brought shame down on everyone he loved.
Sometimes he hated his inner voice. It had started to take on Leo Meyer’s deeply reasonable tone. His inner voice was right. Killing Alexei would solve nothing. Logan had his chance that night in Hell on Wheels, but he was always a coward. He’d proven that over and over again.
“Nate’s not here and Gemma’s gone to lunch. You’ll have to come back later.” Logan turned back to his computer screen, flipping it on. There was always some sort of paperwork to do around the office. They all tried to avoid it like the plague, but sometimes it came in handy. It gave him something to focus on because despite the knowledge that killing Alexei wouldn’t solve his problems, he also knew it would make him feel damn good for a few minutes.
“You are back. This is good.”
Logan didn’t look up. “I’m just filling in for Cam while he’s on leave.”
“Ah.” The fucker didn’t seem to be taking Logan’s point. Logan saw out of the corner of his eye that Alexei moved to his desk, his hat in his hands. Logan had noticed it was a knit cap, the kind a man wore all year long in the mountains because even spring and summer could be cold at the right time of day. Holly liked to knit. He had a cap from Holly. She’d given it to him for his birthday a couple of years back. It was in a box somewhere along with the rest of his life. “This is good also. Laura is good mother. I think maybe I convince Holly to give it other shot one day.”
Holly already had a grown kid, but neither Caleb nor Alexei had kids of their own. And none of that fucking meant a thing to Logan. He finally brought his eyes up, his jaw hardening. “Is there something I can help you with, Markov?”
Alexei frowned, that playboy smile of his turning down. He was an intimidating height and bulk, but Logan was just as big now. “You are still angry.”
“I am nothing to you, Markov.” It was nothing less than the truth. Months of therapy had lessened his anger toward Holly. She couldn’t help the fact that she had terrible taste in men, but he couldn’t fucking stand Alexei.
“This is not true, Logan. You are very meaningful to me. I think about you many times.” Alexei sighed. “I am always saying the sorries in my head.”
He could say sorry in that thick Russian accent twenty-four seven and it wouldn’t make a difference. “But you would do it again.”