Sweet Jayne (5 page)

“Lieutenant,” he says with a chuckle, “meet my fiancée. Cat’s officially out of the bag.”

And things just got a million times more complicated.

L
ogan Baldwin is a goddamned liar.

And an oh-so-good one, too.

I listened with a mix of awe and horror as he revealed to the man named Ghost that I was his fiancée. On one hand, I should be fist pumping the air. Joyous for such a leap of progress toward my ultimate goal. But I’m not. Instead, I’m terrified of the wrath that will inevitably follow.

We’ve gone public.

Going public means all eyes on us.

Donovan and Mamá back in my life. A vision of Donovan’s pained, steely grey-blue eyes is at the forefront of my mind. Those eyes haunt me but they also remind me—they remind me of my purpose.

He’ll come for me eventually.

The thought it is both terrifying and pleasing in one confusing mix of emotions.

It is absolutely crucial, though, that he stays away. I
need
for him to stay away.

“The axel’s broken,” Logan grunts from his position, crouched on his hands and knees as he peers under his truck.

My heart rate picks up when he stands back up and saunters over to Ghost. The other officer’s eyes haven’t strayed from mine. I hate the way he stares at me—like he can see into my head, the same head that holds the secrets I’m desperate to protect. Having people find out about Logan and I could be a good thing. But something tells me I’ll need to keep my distance from the man with the jade-colored, knowing eyes and unsmiling face.

I shiver, the night air chilling my bones as the adrenaline wears off. Ghost frowns at me. And Logan snaps his head over to me, his eyes flickering with that rage he masks so well.

The sound of Logan clearing his throat breaks the silence that had fallen over us. “Call a tow truck, will you? I need to get Nadia home. She’s freezing to death out here. Just have Bill invoice me.”

Ghost nods and pulls his cell from his pocket, his gaze never leaving mine. When Logan touches the small of my back to guide me back to the Tahoe, I flinch. His gentle fingers barely brushing against my lower back are more terrifying than his heavy hand.

I remain quiet as he helps me into the vehicle. He climbs in a few seconds later, and soon we’re weaving down the dark road. Chewing on my lip, I try to formulate the right words. Words I hope will keep him calm.

The eagle-eyed cop fades in the side mirror as silence fills the Tahoe. The ominous mood surrounding us darkens the night further. “You do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?” he questions in a measured tone, his eyes on the road and both hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

My heart rate quickens and I let out a small whimper. “Logan, please... I swear on everything I love that I’ll play the part for you. They’ll never know.”

His eyes dart over to mine for a moment before they’re back on the road again. “Oh, believe me, I have no doubt about that. You’re going to have to convince everyone in this whole goddamned town about your depth of feeling for me. No backing down now.”

My hands tremble in my lap. I quickly clasp them together so he doesn’t pick up on the overwhelming fear that nearly consumes me. Logan feeds off of fear and I don’t want to strengthen the beast. I need to weaken him. Use the skills I’ve perfected over time and make him feel reassured.

“I promise I’ll be perfect for you, Logan.”

He nods and the rest of the drive is silent. I know in that twisted head of his, he’s contemplating my punishment. Beatings. Whippings. Orgasm deprivation. Near suffocation over and over again.

Those are preferable.

Always my choice.

Because when it comes to Logan, he knows my weaknesses. With Logan, his psychological punishments are much worse. He knows my Achilles heel and isn’t afraid to cut me where it hurts the most.

“Donovan is going to be a problem,” he says as he puts on the blinker to turn into his driveway. “I’m going to have to figure out how to deal with that one.” The moonlight shines down on the large, stunning estate. If it wasn’t the place that housed my worst nightmares, I’d be in love with the architectural beauty of it. It’s a delicate mix of rustic country meets modern elegance, which is a common décor choice here in Aspen among the wealthy.

And Logan is among the wealthy. He’s practically their leader amid the local Aspen community. Well, he and Donovan are.

He tells everyone he’s a trust fund kid—because clearly, he couldn’t ever afford a house like this on a police chief’s salary. And just like all of his other lies, they believe it. There was a time when I trusted and believed in him too.

Until he turned my world upside down.

He pulls into his three-car garage beside “The Beast,” as he calls that vehicle. The space where his truck once sat remains empty. As soon as the overhead door closes, caging us inside of his fortress, I swallow down the panic flopping around in my belly like a fish on the bank. It’s time to breathe and face the music. And this isn’t the good kind of music. No Led Zeppelin here crooning away in my head. Instead, raging Pantera is what threatens to crush me.

But the time for crying is over.

The armor is going up.

This warrior princess is strapping up for battle.

“How will you punish me?” I question when I climb out of the Tahoe and slam the door.

He’s already striding into the house, ignoring my words. I trot after him, hoping to distract him in some way from the inevitable. By the time I make it into his room, he’s yanking off his tie and tossing it on the bed. With practiced finesse, he pops each button on his white dress shirt until it’s completely undone and he peels it from his muscled frame.

Logan is forty-five years old, the same age as Donovan, and has the body of a thirty-year-old. He’s lean in all the right places but his muscles are more sculpted and defined on his arms, shoulders, and abs. As he stands in his slacks and white sleeveless undershirt, I admire his monstrous beauty. Despite the undershirt covering up most of his body, his sleeve of tattoos on his left arm is visible and my eyes fixate on the words.

Harmony after annihilation.

Those words are my focus. When he does his worst, I focus on those words. My constant reminder.

Just like now.

His tattoos are a colorful piece of artwork surrounding that profound phrase. The phoenix which takes up most of his arm bears his dark eyes, symbolic of the man before me. Within the flames permanently licking his skin encompassing the hellish bird are names. Reminders. My reasons. I fixate on my favorite one and steel my heart, preparing myself for annihilation.

“Logan, what are you going to do? You’re too quiet.”

He peels off the undershirt and once again, my eyes are drawn to his masculine physique. More tattoos cover his chest and abdomen. His chest is mostly free of hair aside from the dark trail centered in the V of his lower abdomen.

The man is beautiful.

But on the inside, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Wicked darkness cloaked in smiling light.

And yet, I still have a sick, sliver of love for him.

It doesn’t make sense, but when his dark, familiar eyes meet mine, it does. I can look past those menacing eyes and see perfection. Beauty. Innocence. It’s pure—untainted and uncorrupted—and I’d do anything for that untarnished part of him.

“Who says I want to punish you?” he questions, the thick cord of muscle on his neck tightening.

Dread washes over me and I rush over to him. “Please, Logan. I’m begging you. Hurt me.”

His gaze meets mine and he smirks. I hate his smirks. When I hear the jingle of his belt, I nearly sob in relief. But when he yanks it from the loops of his pants and wraps it tightly around his fist, panic once again chokes me. He pushes past me, out of his bedroom and down the hallway. I know where he’s going. I can’t let things escalate that far.

“No!” I cry out and launch myself against his back before he reaches the door to the basement. “Not down there. For the love of God, just fuck me up. Fuck me up on the kitchen floor or your bed or the back porch. I don’t care. Just do it up here.”

He shakes me off of him and I slip between him and the door. His eyes are darkened with rage and his breathing is so heavy he’s visibly shaking. Desperate to distract him from what I know is coming, I grab his thick cock through his work slacks.

“Choke me with your cock, Logan,” I beg with fat tears welling in my eyes.

He laughs, the sound cruel and humorless. “I’m not in a choking mood.”

I grab on to his fist holding the belt and stand on my toes to try and meet his vacant glare. “Make me bleed,” I implore him firmly, rapidly blinking the tears away. “Make me bleed with this.” I squeeze the leather he’s holding and then lick my lips.

His anger lessens marginally and his features slightly relax. I pounce, not wasting any time, and wrap my arms around his neck. He dips his head to meet my lips and I kiss him hard. I throw all of my energy into distracting him from breaking my soul a little more than he already has.

I’m a wolf too, you see.

The games Logan plays are no longer difficult to understand.

In fact, sometimes I think I’m starting to win.

His tongue spears into my mouth and I let out a moan as he kisses me hungrily. And I am pleased for the simple fact he’s reciprocating. When I hop to wrap my short legs around his firm waist, he grabs on to my ass with a punishing grip. I yelp, which only spurs him on because he loves to hear me scream and he strides away from the basement toward his bedroom. My heart leaps into my throat because his bedroom is the safest room in the house. It means he’s feeling softer than usual which surprises me.

Maybe I’m finally getting to him.

When we finally reach his bed, he pushes me onto it. I bounce on the mattress and then jerk my gaze to his, waiting for his next move. He starts undressing the rest of the way, baring his large cock to me, but I wait patiently for his next order.

“Leave the boots on. Everything else goes,” he says, his tone curt, as he takes his cock in his free hand.

I focus on the way he strokes himself as I go up on my knees to peel off my dress. At one time, his dick had been too big. Too scary. Too much. It’d been enough punishment alone. But over time, I grew used to the way he filled and stretched every hole in my body. I’d learned how to turn myself on so I could accept him more easily. It was the only way. With Logan, you just have to accept that he’s going to destroy you from the inside out. Once I finally made peace with that, it soon became easier to take all of the crooked, brutal parts of him.

“Now, lie face down across the bottom of the bed.”

I scramble to heed his instructions and wait for the pain that will inevitably come. But then it doesn’t come. Not right away. Instead, he teases my flesh by dragging the leather of his belt along my spine toward my ass. I focus on the way it tickles my skin and imagine his mouth on my clit, sucking and tasting. Just the idea of him between my legs has me growing wet.

I absolutely need to be wet.

“Did you get the shit you needed from the store?” he asks softly.

I shudder at his tone but nod. “Yeah, it’s in my purse. I can add it to the meal and then put it in the oven as soon as you’re done with my punishment.”