Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2) Page 14

  Logan, bless his soul, doesn't make a comment about my sudden show of affection. He does, however, squeeze my hand a little too tightly in warning. He doesn't know what game I'm playing, I don't know what game I'm playing, but he's still trusting me.

  I don't understand why.

  "It's so good to see you," the secretary stops a few feet in front of us and I can tell she wants to reach out and hug him. "How was your trip?"

  Ah, and here I was wondering how they were playing off Logan being gone for a few weeks. The trip lie. That's always a good one. Clearly, she's stupid enough to notice that the guy is still walking stiffly and has a few bruises on his body. Although, him being stiff probably has something to do with my sudden need for personal contact.

  "It was uneventful," he replies with a smile. "How are you, Lucy?"

  Oh my word. Can she be even more cliche? I mean, she sure didn't have a chance at naming herself, but it's like she's working to live up to the name. If she giggles, I'll lose it.

  "It's been boring without you around." Shedoes giggle. It's high pitched and even more annoying than I imagined it would be. I'd like to replace that sound with a few agonizing screams...Yes, that sounds like fun. I take a step forward, but Logan reels me in. He pulls me closer to his side, as if he can read my thoughts, keeping a firm hold on my arm.

  What. Is. Wrong. With. Me.

  Was I seriously about to attack this chick because I was JEALOUS?

  I do NOT get jealous.

  Especially over Logan.

  NEVER over Logan, the Traitor.

  He laughs naturally at Lucy's attempt at flirting while I stare at the wall in front of me and try to figure out what the heck is going on with me. I try to go over all the facts, pulling the folders out in the recess of my mind.

  What do I know?

  The drug does weird, unpredictable things to my emotions.

  Everything I'm feeling is intensified like never before.

  I want to punch Lucy in the face and kiss Logan senseless.

  I gasp, turning their attention to me. Logan gives my hand another squeeze, "Lucy, this is Tasia. She's working for Kallos now. Sort of a personal assistant to Foster."

  "It's nice to meet you," Lucy says, and I can see she means none of the words she just uttered. "Mr. Foster has a few new employees, doesn't he?"

  I don't miss the way she says employees and means girls. There's only a hint of bitterness in her voice, but that's probably because she's stuck manning the phones while I get to ride around with Mr. Hunk Wentworth himself.

  Shut the front door. What am I thinking?

  "Tasia, are you okay?" Logan asks and I realize I spaced out again, because Lucy is walking back to her desk to grab the papers we came for and I'm still standing here, thinking inappropriate things about Logan.

  "Umm...Yeah. Peachy keen," I say with a firm nod. He gives me a quizzical look and I know he doesn't believe my answer. Luckily, Lucy comes back with a stack of folders handing them over to Logan. Before he can even say thanks, her phone rings and she rushes over to her desk once more.

  Good riddance.

  Logan doesn't wait for her to get off the phone, just waves the hand holding the folders in her general direction and heads back to the elevator. And yes, I'm still clutching at his hand. We stop in front of the elevator doors and he pushes the button, while throwing small glances my way. He's not the only one.

  I can feel Lucy's eyes on us so I clearly do the only thing I can think of. I disentangle my hand from Logan's only to run it up and down his back, before letting it rest at the back of his neck. I lean in closely, giving the spot just below his ear a small nibble. The groan that works its way up the back of his throat snaps my full attention to him and I realize what I've just done.

  I look into his eyes, which are now slightly clouded and see my terrified reflection in his pupils. He's trying to ask me all the questions without saying any of the words, but I can't back down or freak out right now. I've started something in front of Lucy so I have to finish it. I lean back into him as the doors open and I can't help but take a look behind me.

  Lucy definitely saw my little display of affection, and I swear I can see fumes coming out the top of her head. I send her a brilliant smile and follow Logan into the elevator.

  The moment the doors close, I try to move away, but Logan snakes his hand around my waist, bringing me to his side. The movement makes me breathless in all the girly ways books and movies talk about, and I think whatever coherent thought I may have left, flies out the window.

  "I don't know what you think you're doing," he whispers into my ear, "but you just started something that won't go away just because we don't have Lucy watching us. Foster will know about this in a matter of minutes."

  Maybe Logan's not as affected as I am. But no. I catch the way his hand trembles at my waist, as if he's keeping himself in check before he loses all control.

  I want him to lose control.

  No! I don't want him to lose control.

  I shut my eyes against the conflicting emotions, still closely pressed to his body.

  "Earning trust." I whisper into his ear and the moment the words register, I see it in his eyes. I'm not earning my trust with Logan.

  I'm earning my trust with Foster.

  I'll never be able to get inside their plans if he doesn't believe I'm fully on his side. And what better way to do that than to make Foster think Logan and I are together.

  The old me would never trust Logan within fifty feet of her, and here I am practically on top of him, in full view of anyone who wants to watch. There are camera's everywhere inside the building. This wasn't part of the original plan, but it is now.

  The doors open and I take a step out of Logan's arms. His expression of disbelief is quickly replaced by a cool mask and I know he won't blow this for me. After all, he's trying to earnmy trust. The fact that he’s allowing me to play brings a smile to my face that I’m having a hard time keeping from my face.

  "We'll talk more about that when we're alone." He says the words for the benefits of the camera's, putting just enough promise into his look to make me hot all over. Even if he is just acting. But I make sure to smile coyly at him and hope that I don't look as demented as I feel.

  "Why are we picking up paperwork, anyway? Don't they have email or even fax for that kind of a thing?" I ask as we make our way out into the lobby. All of that driving for four folders.

  "Things on the internet can be tracked. Foster likes his things protected." His secrets is what Logan really means. It makes sense though, because we only found minimal information on the data we collected from the computers inside the building. It's why I had to sneak in the first time, to find the necessary blueprints for the warehouses. Foster only puts what he wants people to see on his computers. Everything else is closely guarded.

  "So what now?" I ask as we make our way out of the building and toward the car. I can't imagine the only reason we came out here was to pick up some papers. There's got to be more to why Foster sent me with Logan. I really shouldn't be letting my guard down as much as I have.

  "Now we—" but he never gets to finish his sentence because suddenly, we're surrounded.

  * * *

  There are seven men, spread out in a circle around us.

  The parking garage is empty, save for the guys with guns trained on Logan and me. I give the situation a quick run down.

  6 men.

  12 guns.

  Closed in space.

  The odds are definitely not in their favor. I don't know if these are Fosters men or not. I don't care if it's another test of loyalty. All I know is that they just pointed a gun at Logan... And I need to let off some steam.

  I don't wait for them to make a move. I strike first.

  Quick as lightning, I jump into a back flip, landing on my hands at the same time that I kick the two men beside me in the face. For a split second, I worry about Logan but when I righten myself, I see that he's not going down wit
hout a fight either.

  Trusting him to take care of himself, I spin around just as one of the other guys takes aim. He's close enough that my kick sends him flying, before I drop to my knees, avoiding an attack from behind.

  I see movement out of the corner of my eye and dodge away at the last second, making the two men who were rushing me, crash. No one will use their guns, not with all of the bodies this closely together. I grab the closest man to me, smashing my fist into his face. I don't give him a chance to recover as I ram my leg into his groin, before grabbing him in a headlock. Just before he's about to pass out, my legs are swept out from under me and I'm falling.

  Landing hard on my back, I kick out as two of the men try to grab my legs. Twisting my body, I use their momentum against them, bringing them closer to me. Grabbing one of them by his head, I swing my leg over and wrap both of them around the others’ neck.

  Then, I twist my body into a downward motion, bringing both of them to the ground and out cold. I scramble to my feet from under them, but not before another one grabs me from behind, taking hold of my leg.

  As he tries to drag me by my leg, I see a glint of metal on the side of one of the fallen men and reach out. The moment the knife is in my hand I feel calmer. Just like that.

  The man pulls me away from the bodies, dragging me on my stomach. When he stops to make a move, I flip around, making sure to use my legs as weapon. The two guys coming to grab me, fly back, and I'm on my feet instantly. They don't stay away for long.

  I block a swing at my face, using my elbow to deliver a blow to the other side. The knife that is now comfortably resting in my hand seems to have a mind of it's own as it slices at the other attacker. I stab the blade into the stomach of the man in front of me, before smashing the heel of my boot against the inside of his knee. He tumbles to the ground, blood splattering my clothes.

  There's a smile on my face as I turn my full attention to the only one still standing. I hear Logan call out, but I don't understand the words.

  Advancing on the man in front of me, I swing my arm, aiming at his face. But instead of a satisfying crack, he blocks my movements. I don't waste time thinking. I act.

  Using his body for leverage, I swing my leg into his side. He stumbles, barely, but it's enough. I swing my hand into his neck, before kicking him in the chest. The anger is clear on his face. How dare this little girl have the upper hand on him? But I'm not little. I'm deadly.

  My arms continue their movement, blocking and punching to a beat only I can hear. With each swipe, my right hand cuts a piece of his flesh until it no longer looks like skin. He's bleeding all over, his face, his arms, his chest.

  I'm enjoying myself way too much.

  I hear Logan's voice through the fog in my mind and finally look back at where he's standing. There's horror on his face in a way I've never seen before. But he's not looking at the bodies laying around him, he's looking at me.

  "Tasia, stop," Logan says and it sounds like he's whispering it right in my ear. I glance back at the man bleeding in front of me. I can't leave him like this. With the last full kick, he's on the ground.

  I stare at the damage I inflicted, at the blood now staining my hands and clothes.

  Red.

  All I see is red.

  My hands begin to shake.

  I look up as Logan makes his way toward me. He's taking his time, as if approaching a wounded animal. But isn't that what I am? I don't realize I'm crying until Logan is cradling my face in his hands, his thumb wiping at the tears.

  "You're fine. You'll be fine."

  I don't comment on his contradicting statements. Instead, I let him pull me into a hug. He pulls me closer until I'm sobbing into his shoulder, my arms at my side with blood still dripping off them.

  "Shh. You're okay." Logan keeps murmuring little reassurances as his hands travel up and down my back and over my hair.

  I'm up and down.

  I'm hot and cold.

  I'm here and there.

  I'm torn.

  I push away from Logan, trying to catch my breath. He studies me carefully, waiting for me to say whatever it is I need to say. But instead of talking to him, I study the damage I've inflicted and I'm shocked all over again.

  I didn't just stab that man, I sliced him open. I didn't just knock this man out, I smashed his face in. The blood is gushing out of wounds, staining the asphalt red. Logan is speaking again, but there's a dull buzzing in my head and I can't shake it off. I didn't do all of this, did I?

  "Come on, Tasia. We need to get you out of here." Gently, he pulls me to where he parked his car as I try not to look at the faces I've broken. I was just trying to knock them out, not rearrange their bone structure to a point of no recognition. When we reach the car, I realize I'm still holding the knife. Dropping it as if it's on fire, I frantically wipe my hands on my jeans.

  "Tasia. Stop. Stop," Logan is saying again, opening the car door for me. I know there are tears in my eyes again, as I look at him in anguish.

  "What's wrong with me?" I whisper, unable to keep the heartbreak from my voice.

  "I don't know. We'll figure it out."

  Logan doesn't wait for me to say anything else. He picks me up and places me inside the car, pulling the seatbelt over my body. Jogging around the front of the Buick, he gets in, reaching for his phone.

  "I have to," is all he says and I nod.

  Of course. He has to call this in. He needs to report in like a dutiful good boy. I try not to stare at the wreckage of body parts and blood I left behind, but I can't help myself as we pull out of the parking spot and drive away.

  I don't remember doing half of those things.

  "What happened?" Foster's voice booms throughout the small space. I jump in my seat, not realizing that Logan put the phone on speaker.

  "We were ambushed in the parking garage. Some of the men are...dead" Logan glances over at me before continuing. "We're both hurt, but not too bad. It needs a clean up." There's a long pause before Foster finally replies.

  "Understood."

  I wait for him to continue, to tell me I passed the test, but he says nothing. I know he's still on the phone, but it's silent on his end until I can't hold it any longer.

  "Understood?" I snap, receiving a warning look from Logan. "What does understood meanexactly?"

  "Just what I said, Miss Snow."

  "Don't you dare use that patronizing tone with me," I shout, making Logan flinch. He reaches out a hand to me, probably to calm me down, but I jerk away. The last thing I want is for him to touch my bloody hands.

  "You set us up, you piece of crap!" I scream, whatever self-control I might have possessed, snapping. "You couldn't have just done your stupid experiments without making us drive two hours away? If you want to torture me, just torture me. Did you have to ambush us? Why all these games?"

  "For your information, Miss Snow, I had no part in, how did you put it? Ambushing you. But I plan on finding out exactly who did. Find a place to stay the night. I'll need you in the city." With that, he hangs up. Logan opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt.

  "I don't want to talk. Just find me a place to clean up."

  I turn to stare out the window, mulling over Foster's words. Is he telling the truth? Did he truly not send those men after us? If that's so, then who did? And why is it, when I feel like I'm finally getting a handle on myself, do I break down that much more?

  The questions bombard me, one after the other, until I can't keep my eyes open. Trusting myself even less than I trust Logan, I decide to let the sleep win over.

  The last thought on my mind is that I'm a time bomb, with a timer already running out of minutes.

  19.

  When I open my eyes, it seems like I'm flying. Strong hands hold me close to a solid chest and I breath in the comforting scent of my savior. There's something so familiar about this, so right.

  No.

  Not right.

  I come back to my senses in a snap, pushing
away from the arms that hold me.

  "Easy does it, Princess," Logan's voice says through the fog in my brain. "Almost there." In any other situation, I would've fought him off. I would've done anything in my power to get away. But I'm so tired of fighting, of running. I just want to close my eyes and rest. I'm officially past caring about what they may do to me.

  "Come on, Tasia. Let's get you cleaned up." I feel myself being gently lowered, and then I'm sitting up. I can feel Logan's hands on either side of my face, as he pushes the hair away. Knowing I have to, I open my eyes and meet his clear concerned gaze. "There she is."

  His soft words break through my defenses, as minimal as they've become, and I feel tears pooling in my eyes again. We stare at each other, both of us wanting to say so many things, but neither one of us actually says anything.

  There's so much damaged terrain between us I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to rebuild it. But so much of me wants to, yearns to do just that. How can I hate someone so much and still wish for a happily ever after?

  Logan sees the change in my eyes and he opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't. Suddenly, he jerks away, moving to the sink. He turns the water on, grabbing one of the towels on the counter. Glancing around, I realizewe’re in a hotel. I don’t remember the motions that brought me here or where here is.

  After dampening the towel, he brings it to me, but instead of handing it over, he begins cleaning off the mess on my face. What baffles me probably more than him, is that I let him.

  I sit quietly as Logan works on getting the sweat and blood off my skin, working patiently and carefully. Silent tears fall down my cheeks and I make no move to hide them.

  Everything is so messed up.

  It's become too much.

  Too much, too fast.

  Nothing has gone according to plan. I'm not supposed to be here with Logan. I didn't expect that. Honestly, I expected to be locked away in some facility by now, undergoing all kinds of tests. I even prepared myself for that. But Foster doesn't do things the normal way. He sent me out to his office instead, with Logan of all people.

  I watch the boy work, his hands gentle as they try to get the stains off my skin. I almost laugh at the absurdity of what he's doing. My hands will never be clean. The thought sobers me up and I extract my hands from his.