“Take me with you, Logan.” I strive to sound confident, when I am anything but.
A very small smile crosses his lips. “I hoped you’d say that.” His palm lifts, cups my cheek.
That touch, so gentle, so kind, hinting at strength held at bay; I nuzzle my cheek into his palm, and my eyes flutter, close. A moment, only, but it quiets the turmoil in my soul, if only for one fleeting moment.
As my eyes are closed, I feel his breath, his lips touching mine. Sweetly, softly,
He kisses me,
and kisses me,
and kisses me.
All in a moment.
I gasp as his lips leave mine, and then his hand tangles in mine, fingers twined, and he tugs me into motion. “Come on, honey. Time to go.”
And he takes me away from everything I know.
FIFTEEN
On the elevator, Logan tugs his cap off his head and fits it onto mine, taps the brim lower over my face. He scrubs a hand through his hair, making a mess of it, the blond locks tangled. But even thus, with his hair in a snarl, he’s so sexy my breath comes short at the sight of him.
“We’re just gonna walk right out of here, okay? Right out the front door.” He slips an arm around my waist, digs his other hand into his pocket, produces his cell phone and hands it to me. “Keep your head down. Pretend like you’re engrossed in Facebook or something, yeah? Just act like you can’t be bothered to look up.”
I take the device in my hands. It’s a big glossy black rectangle in a rubber case, with a single round button at the bottom. Logan presses the button with his thumb and the screen turns on, showing Logan with a large chocolate-brown dog, its tongue lolling out. He leaves his thumb on the button for another second, and the screen changes, showing rows of little icons in different colors with various logos. Behind the rows of icons is a stunning photograph of a spiral galaxy.
I have no clue what to do. I don’t own a cell phone and have no knowledge of how to use one, so it’s likely I’ve never owned one, either.
I just stare at the screen for a moment, and then glance up at Logan. “I don’t know what to do.”
He frowns down at me. “What do you mean?”
I lift the phone in gesture. “With this. I’ve never owned a cell phone.”
His eyebrows rise. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He touches the screen with his index finger and swipes left, pulling the screen full of little icons to the right. He finds one icon, taps it, and it expands to reveal a hidden set of icons; he taps one. “Tetris. It’s easy. Just fit the little pieces so they make a straight line across. Tap them, and they’ll rotate. It’s like a moving puzzle.”
A couple more taps, and the screen resolves into something like graph paper, lines marking off the screen into tiny squares. A bright yellow square appears, dropping slowly from the top of the screen to the bottom.
By the time the elevator reaches the lobby, I understand the basic object of the game, and I’m engrossed. I intentionally allow myself to become absorbed into forcing the various shapes to fit with others so the line vanishes. Otherwise, I’d be terrified. I am terrified; I’m just pretending, even to myself, that I’m not. A video game can’t erase my panic at leaving the condo, my fear of being discovered and returned, and punished.
I’m leaving.
With Logan.
I’m leaving everything I know, with a man I’ve met twice.
And I’m playing a video game.
I could laugh from the absurdity of it all.
Logan’s arm slides more tightly around my waist, and I lean into him, let him guide me. I keep my focus on the cell phone in my hands, tapping at the squares with both thumbs as I’ve seen my clients and Caleb do on numerous occasions. Pretending like I’m doing something more important on the device than playing a game.
I am tensed, barely breathing, heart hammering; I expect a hue and cry at every step. I hear voices, faint music, the ding of the elevators reaching the lobby and opening. I hear the doors ahead open, letting in a brief slice of the noise from outside, and then they close, returning stifling quiet to the lobby.
I have never seen the lobby of this building before, the few times I’ve left having entered and exited via the garage, and then always under heavy guard, hustled from the car to the elevator and vice versa as quickly as possible. I want to look around, but I don’t. I see the floor underfoot, shiny black squares of marble veined with streaks of gold.
I feel Logan’s torso twist and shift as he leads me through the doors, heavy slabs of glass with silver handles. Road noise, blaring horns, engines, squealing brakes. The old panic surfaces, and now my heart rate increases to a dangerous speed, thumping so hard in my chest that it’s physically painful. My breath leaves me, my lungs frozen. I can’t blink, and my legs won’t move.
These panic attacks are why I stayed in Caleb’s tower for so long.
Logan drags me, essentially, his cell phone dangling from my fingers.
“You okay, honey?” His voice in my ear, buzzing, warm.
I try to force oxygen in, and sort of succeed, enough to rasp out an answer. “Panic . . . attack.”
A man in a suit sweeps past me, accidentally slamming his shoulder against mine, not slowing to even glance at me. I shrink away, my shoulder slamming against the building, and I feel like I’m trying to huddle into the stone, collapsing to my knees. Someone else passes, a woman scantily clad in shorts that barely cover her buttocks and a tank top that leaves little of her cleavage to the imagination; she glares at me, disgust and contempt in her gaze, as if I’ve personally wronged her somehow. I watch her, stare at her, unable to look away. Has she never witnessed a panic attack before? Why would someone I’ve never met look at me with such hate?
“X, you gotta pull it together, sweetie. I’ve got you. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe with me. You just need to walk two blocks with me, okay?” He’s kneeling in front of me, hands on my face. I blink, and his deep, deep blue eyes fix on mine. “That’s it. Look at me. You’re fine. You’re okay. Breathe for me, all right? Deep breath in, ready?”
I nod, grip his forearms with desperate fingers, focus on his blueblueblue eyes, drag in a lungful of hot Manhattan summer air.
He smiles, his face kind and patient, his eyes not wavering from mine. “Good, honey. Good. Another. With me, okay? Deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Keep it going. Good. Just keep your eyes on mine.”
I’m breathing, staring up at him, and my heart rate slows a little. Another moment or two of deep breathing, and then he’s tugging me to my feet, hand tangling in mine. I’ve got his cell phone in a death grip in the other hand, squeezing so hard now my fingers hurt. I lean into him, his hard bulk at my side reassuring, his scent on his T-shirt filling my nostrils, fabric softener and the faint whiff of a cigarette. His stride is loose and easy and unhurried, although I notice him glancing in the windows as we pass them, and then when we stop at a red light, he angles to face me, adjusting his hat on my head, but his gaze is down the sidewalk behind us, watching for pursuit.
“I think we’re clear,” he murmurs to me, feathering fingers through my loose, damp hair, tossing it back over my shoulders. “My truck is close. Half a block, not even that. Feeling any better?”
I’m still terrified beyond all reason, but I’m not in the grip of the panic attack anymore. I jerk my chin in a brief nod. “I’m fine.”
He grins at me, squeezes my waist with his arm. “That’s my girl. You’re doing great.”
He’s so calm. Doesn’t he understand what Caleb is capable of?
His girl? I’m his girl? Or is that just an expression? With Logan, it’s hard to tell.
He pulls me around a corner, down a narrow cross street jammed with parked delivery trucks, half the width of the street blocked off by orange and white construction barriers. There’s a boxy silver SUV parked between a white produce delivery truck and a tall black van. Logan pulls me to the SUV, helps me up and into the passenger seat. I get a whiff of his scent again, and I inhale, find some strange calm in it as he reaches across me to click the seat belt into place.