Rush (Roam Series, Book Four) Page 18

  What the…? “I’m sorry you had a rough childhood. And it sounds like I was a fucking nut. Now listen to me,” I lifted the Glock, ready to fire. “Let Eva go. And I’ll come to you, and we’ll settle this, one way or another.”

  “You-…,”

  Fireworks exploded over the lake at that moment, and Eva’s scream forced me from behind the tree. In the multiple red and white lights, I saw her wrench away from Mathison, running toward me.

  When he aimed his gun at her, a cracking sound burst in my ears, and I stopped thinking.

  Raising the Glock, I took one shot at his head through the dying lights of the fireworks, targeting right between his eyes.

  He went down instantly.

  Eva continued to run, and I glanced to my side, watching Will catch her and secure her into his arms. “Ah, Eva… hush now… all is well, little one. All is well. Logan,” he shifted his eyes toward Cole’s body, and I nodded, moving in.

  “Will,” Eva sobbed, gripping him with arms and legs and every ounce of strength in her little body. He tucked her face into his neck, continuing to whisper soft words to her.

  Mathison lay on his back, and I stared down at his bloodied face, knowing he was already healing.

  Let him heal; lock him up. Morals reared their ugly head, and I aimed the gun, knowing I could decapitate him easily with three more shots.

  He spent all of these years trying to protect the same people you love.

  Misinformed.

  “Fuck,” I aimed at his neck, stopping at Violet’s cry.

  “Logan, no,” she managed shakily, reaching one tentative arm in my direction. “No. Don’t do it, please don’t...,”

  The numbness of killing, coupled with the certainty of power, became my only truth. Violet’s protesting cries grew canned and far away as I aimed the gun at Mathison’s neck, firing three rapid shots. Her screams mingled with new fireworks; I gripped a handful of his bloodied hair and retrieved my knife from my side.

  Separate his head from his body. Throw him in the lake.

  Bloodied hands were slippery; I patted them on the mossy ground, coating them with dusty soil. The mangled cords of his neck would require sawing.

  Remove his heart and other organs; divide them.

  “Logan…,”

  I felt the hand on my shoulder, and within seconds I had my assailant pinned to the grass, my knife to her neck.

  Her terrified eyes reflected the moonlight above as a stifled sob escaped. Violet’s chest rose and fell beneath my hand, her strangled voice thick with tears. “No… Logan, it’s me, don’t…,”

  My mind poured through the castle walls, through boot camp, through exploding grenades and Roam’s tortured screams.

  I lifted my face to the sky at the sudden, piercing sound of a radio frequency from the high tower speakers on the street poles. After several samples of mixed music that I didn’t recognize, the volume around me rose as Calendar Girl came in mid-verse, loud enough to be heard across the lake to the islands.

  Freezing with the knife in my hand, I turned toward Will. Eva gripped him, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes that glowed like hot amber coals.

  “Logan?” Violet’s shaking, tearful voice beneath me; I turned back down to her in confusion, expecting to see anyone but her below me as I crouched next the mangled body, covered in blood.

  The man from the front desk approached, looking dazed, gripping a phone. Eva turned to him with her steady gaze; the tinkling notes from Swan Lake that played in the music box that I had gotten her for Christmas mingled with the remnants of Calendar Girl.

  The man’s fist fell open, the phone slipping to the ground. He fell to his knees before curling up into a ball on the ground, asleep.

  “Violet,” Will motioned to her, and Violet slowly crawled on her back away from me. Rising to her feet, she turned and ran the last few yards to her sister before gathering to her chest. The music that filled the night slowly dwindled away, leaving only the sounds of Lake Erie lapping against the shore.

  Will approached me slowly. “Justice will be served, Logan. In a few hours, he will heal. Until then,” Will’s voice, soothing, directive, gave me back a thread of focus. “We wait for her parents. That is enough; there is no more for you to do here,” he coaxed, holding his hand out expectantly.

  I handed over the knife before releasing the magazine from the Glock, allowing Will to take the gun. Violet carried Eva to the car, and Will’s balanced tone continued at my side.

  “I need to finish him.”

  “You have finished him.” Careful not to touch me in any way, Will nodded toward the ground. “He will have time to atone. To understand there is more to this changeable world than he shall ever know.”

  “He almost shot her.”

  “Eva is safe,” he continued, so very still. “She saw more than I cared for her to see, but she called to you in a way that only you understood. I assume the song we heard had some meaning for you.”

  Reality, like pouring ink in water, slowly clouded my stonewalled vision. “She’s my calendar girl. I taught her to count the months until I’d be home… with that song.”

  “She has cast a spell. The people are asleep,” he gestured to the darkened motel. “No sirens. She put everyone to sleep.”

  “She saw?” My chest caved; I turned to Will, and he nodded once. She saw me put the knife to Violet’s throat?

  “You will speak to her, in time. She will heal. Children are resilient.”

  “Fuck,” I crouched again, burying my face in my hands. She’s four years old. I just let her watch me shoot him, again and again, ready to dissect him with my knife before attacking her sister.

  “When West arrives, we will develop a story for authorities. Stay calm.”

  I turned toward the car, watching the moonlight reflect off Violet’s face in the mirror as she gripped Eva to her chest, sobbing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Violet

  I sat in the driver’s seat of the Jeep for the next three hours, unmoving.

  He almost chopped him up. I winced at the memory of watching Logan crouch over Cole’s body, knife in hand…

  …and the ferocious look in his deep, brown eyes, as he held the knife to my throat.

  He was lost in the moment… he didn’t know it was me. Now he, West, and Will secured him by the lake, waiting until he was breathing again to call the police.

  Roam held Eva in the backseat as she slept.

  “Do you think these people will just wake up?” I asked softly. Roam leaned against the window, drawing her hand lovingly over Eva’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what she did to them. She put Thomas Jefferson to sleep once when he wouldn’t stop barking, but it only lasted for an hour.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at my intolerant little sister. “I never knew that.”

  “I don’t like not knowing what she’s capable of… or her not knowing what she’s capable of.”

  “She stopped Logan from killing him,” I whispered, staring in their direction. “With a song. She made him focus… and choose to stop.”

  Roam tightened her grip on her daughter. “She’s very persuasive.”

  “Will found her,” I turned to the back seat, still hushed so Eva wouldn’t hear. “She called to him in her dreams. He came all the way here for her, to find her.”

  “I owe him so much.”

  “He told me… that he knew Christopher was born… because the second sun returned to Icepond.”

  Her hand stilled on Eva’s shoulder, and her eyes shifted to the window. “What?”

  “Your child with West. The prophecy. Christopher brought the second sun back.”

  “Oh… my God…,” her eyes narrowed, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe we didn’t… how could we be so stupid-…,”

  “He doesn’t blame you. And he swears he won’t hurt Christopher. He just wanted to be sure you knew the consequences.”


  “We can never have more children,” she realized.

  “You’re lucky to have Eva and Christopher.”

  “I know.”

  The police arrested Cole Mathison, and as the people in the hotel slowly began to wake up, none of them could remember any of the shouting, gunshots, or music from the night before.

  The front desk clerk claimed to have never seen Logan before in his life.

  Cole went without a fight, but I knew we hadn’t seen the last of him.

  Logan said nothing to me during the entire drive back to Madison, and by the time we reached the house, I was convinced he was just overly exhausted. He went directly to bed, and I followed. Roam and West took Eva with them to the Inclined Plane. Will needed to go back, and there was nothing more for me to do.

  I backed into Logan’s arms…

  And he turned away.

  “Logan?”

  He didn’t respond; I closed my eyes, gripping the pillow and fighting back tears.

  The following morning, I woke to find the bed empty. Gathering a thin sweatshirt, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I padded down the stairs. I expected to see Logan in the kitchen with a brewing pot of coffee, but instead Roam sat at the table with Eva, cutting up her pancakes.

  “Morning… is Logan down here?”

  Roam turned as West hurried down the steps behind me, carrying a small bag. “My flight is in an hour. I have to leave- baby, you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Go get Christopher.”

  West focused on me, and then back to Roam. “Your arm?”

  “It’s okay.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I turned to her. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

  “Violet,” West lowered his voice, gently gathering my elbow and pulling me toward the front door. “Logan left early this morning. He didn’t say anything- to anyone. Roam’s coordinates changed-…,”

  “What do you mean, he left?” I gripped my sweater to my chest, turning toward the window.

  “He called a cab for the airport, we think-…,”

  “Where is he?” I crossed to Roam, and she extended her arm, her face filled with concern.

  “First, Florida. Now… somewhere near the Cayman Islands.”

  “The what? Where is that?” I looked around frantically, as if expecting a globe to appear out of thin air.

  “Near Cuba…,” West added. “I’ve tried calling him-…,”

  “No, no he wouldn’t just leave,” I tried to still my thundering heart, and Eva turned to me.

  “Where’s Logan, Vi?” Her eyes flashed with worry, and Roam hugged her close.

  West grabbed for his keys, turning between me and Roam. “I have to go get Christopher. I’m sorry I can’t stay here for you-…,”

  “No, go get the baby. I’m fine.” I turned back to the stairs, climbing them with shaking legs. I made it to the bathroom in just enough time to turn the lock and gasp, tears burning my eyes.

  Did he… leave?

  Me?

  I left the bathroom in a daze. My phone lay on the table next to my bed; I fumbled with it, my fingers shaking violently as I swept through my messages with my thumb. No texts, no calls, no voicemails.

  I dialed Logan’s number, waiting.

  After four rings, the iPhone voicemail picked up. I cleared my throat, steadying my breathing. “Hey, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. Please hurry.”

  I drifted through the rest of the day, staring at Roam’s coordinates about ninety times. I tried texting and calling Logan twice more before noon, and finally around dinner time, anger settled in the pit of my stomach.

  Rush, answer me- now.

  West was back with Christopher by eight, and once again, I found myself in the middle of their family, only this time with a platinum wedding band riding next to my diamond engagement ring.

  In the middle of the night, Roam’s scream jerked me out of a restless nightmare. I ran to the hallway as Christopher began to cry, and West crossed to the nursery, meeting my eyes as he finished typing into his phone.

  “He moved again?”

  “Small move. Jamaica.”

  “Oh, so he’s on fucking vacation.” I started back to the bedroom, but West caught my arm firmly.

  “Something in him… snapped… last night. Leave him alone for a while, Violet. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but give him time. He needs it right now.”

  Christopher’s wails echoed through the baby monitor, and West released my arm, heading to the nursery.

  I closed my bedroom door and lowered to the bed, reaching for my phone.

  No calls, no messages.

  Through blurred, teary vision, I managed to type him a text message.

  I love you, Logan. You’re breaking my heart. Please don’t do this to me.

  I fell asleep with the phone in my hand, waiting for his response.

  The next few days became an endless purgatory of alternating between sleeping and drifting through the house. I called Logan’s parents, Mr. Camden, and Jason and Morgan… no one had heard from him. The numbers remained the same on Roam’s arm for three full days, and finally, by the end of the week, I decided I was going to find him.

  “He’s hurting right now. He obviously needs me. I’ll just fly there and… find him…,”

  “He may not want to be found,” West finally said, the brutal honesty in his voice more crushing than Logan’s disappearance.

  “You don’t know that!” I stormed to my bedroom, throwing clothing into a suitcase and reaching for my phone again.

  I’m coming to find you. Roam’s coordinates say Jamaica. Stop me if you don’t want me to come.

  I hit ‘send’ and finished packing, feeling surer of myself with a plan in place. That evening, I helped Roam with Christopher while she and West made dinner. Balancing the baby on my knee, I clicked through flights to find tickets from Cleveland to Jamaica.

  “West,” Roam turned to him suddenly, and he caught her in his arms. I gripped the baby tighter as she pressed her face to my father’s chest, crying out into his shirt while he comforted her through the pain once more.

  After she could finally breathe again, she turned to me, holding her forearm. “Fifty-one, thirty, twenty-six, zero, seven, thirty nine.”

  I punched the numbers into Google search, waiting.

  “London.” I let West take Christopher from me as I stared blankly ahead at the laptop screen. “He got my text. He’s getting… all of my texts. He left.”

  “Oh, Violet,” Roam wrapped her arms around me, and I accepted her hug as I accepted this new information.

  Detached.

  “I’ll be upstairs.” I slid from the chair and made it up to my room, curling into a ball on my comforter. The air conditioner kicked on softly, blowing around the stale, July air.

  The pillow Logan had slept on only days before still smelled like him, and I pressed my face to the cool sheet, tugging at my wedding band.

  The rings clattered to the hardwood floor as I closed my eyes, succumbing to the tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  County Meath, Ireland- December

  Logan

  “Can I pay you on the first?” I chafed my hands together before tugging at the scarf around my neck. Dean snorted, kicking at the door after attempting the handle for the second time.

  “You can’t. Christmas Eve tomorrow, Logan. I’ve mouths to feed.”

  “I know.” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet, counting through the bills. “Here. It’s all I have until the first. Will you take it?”

  Dean Brennan peeled away a note, tucking the rest of the wad of paper bills into his pocket. “I will. Eat something, will ya.”

  “Thank you,” I acknowledged, nodding. The snow swirled around the doorway as he left the small house, slamming the door behind him. I knew the force of his exit was due to the broken jamb, but I also knew his hospitality was wearing thin.

  Time to move- soon.

  “Where to next?”
I asked the stray tabby cat pacing in and out of my legs, scratching her back on my snow-covered boots. I bent to smooth her mangy hair, and she arched, purring thickly. “Maybe I’ll take you with me, Isabella.”

  The knocking at the door stilled my hands, and I turned back. What does he want now? Yanking at the handle, I wrenched the door open.

  Her face, set against the cold, snowy landscape, had me wondering if I was actually dreaming.

  “Let me in,” Roam pushed forward, her teeth visibly chattering.

  “What- what are you doing here?” I reached for her, and she trembled in my arms. She was absolutely real; her nose was a frightening shade of red and her lips were almost blue. “How in the hell are you here? Come on,” I led her to the fireplace, rubbing my hands on her upper arms before turning to the pile of wood. “I can’t believe this. Fuck.”

  “Fuck? Really?” She glared at me with livid eyes, throwing her arm to the side to where her coordinates were etched, beneath her coat. “How about fuck you. It’s nice walking around not knowing when my arm is going to burst into flames.”

  I stared at her for a long moment before turning back to the fireplace. “I never heard you say that word before. Ever.”

  “Oh, I save it for very special occasions. Congratulations.”

  “Is Violet here?”

  “Oh, your wife?” She exhaled quickly as I lit a piece of newspaper with the lighter. “No, she’s not.”

  “You came here alone?” I sized her up; her fuzzy, off-white snowcap contrasted with her dark hair, and the melting snowflakes dampened each strand on her face. I recognized her coat; her gift from Morgan from last Christmas was the same shade of cream as her hat and gloves.

  “I took my final exam, booked a flight, and left. I didn’t call West until I landed in Ireland.”

  “How’d you know I was here? I mean, right here? The coordinates aren’t exact.”

  She gave me a sarcastic eye roll. “Seriously? Trim Castle? From Braveheart. I knew as soon as my numbers changed to Ireland. You always wanted to come here.” She shrugged, all but sticking her hands directly into the fire. “I asked around.”

  The poignancy of her remembering my favorite movie almost made me forget all that we’d been through.