TWIN PASSIONS: (A Logan Brothers Novel) (22 page)

I held my hands up to try to
calm him down. “Cade, stop, what are you doing?!”

He moved forward again, this
time charging straight at me and grabbing me round the waist. He
lifted and twisted, sending me crashing down onto the tarmac on the
road to a loud 'oooh' from the crowd.

I felt the air burst out of my
lungs as I hit the ground, my insides burning. He twisted on top of
me and began swinging but I managed to get my hands up and defend
myself. He was wild, breathing heavily and loudly, acting like a
lunatic.

His weight suddenly shifted off
me and I pulled my arms away from my face. I could see Brick dragging
him away as he would any regular customer who'd got into a fight. But
this was no regular customer.

Cade roared: “get the fuck off
me,” twisting his body out of Brick's grasp. Brick was a giant of a
man and could easily handle himself, so wasn't to be intimidated by
anyone in a fight.

Cade pointed his finger at him.
“This has got nothing to do with you,” he growled, panting
heavily “Stay the fuck out of it.”

Brick looked again at me as I
climbed back to my feet. I nodded at him. Cade was right, this was
between me and him.

He paced towards me again as the
crowd continued to gather, getting louder and louder the more people
joined the throng.

“
Cade,” I shouted again,
“think about what you're doing. Let's go inside and talk.”

He took no notice of me, as if
the words didn't register at all, and ran at me again. I was ready
this time, moving just enough to avoid his tackle. His movements were
erratic, the complete opposite of the calm and composed guy who
fought in the ring.

He turned around quickly and
entered a boxing stance. The crowd cheered as he did so. He moved
forward again as I pleaded with him once more. I knew, though, that I
was never going to talk any sense into him. Not now, not while he was
in this frame of mind.

He crept forward and swung at
me, his fist so quick. I managed to dodge it. He swung again,
catching me on the side of the cheek. I felt his knuckles grazing
along my face as my head was rocked back slightly.

He swung once more, but I leaned
back, almost tripping backwards and falling over. I stumbled instead,
regaining my footing as he moved in towards me. This time I wasn't
going to just defend.
Fuck him. If he wanted it to be like this,
it would be like this
.
This wasn't a fucking boxing ring, this
was streetfighting, and I'd done plenty of that in my time.

He came in again and swung,
still in his boxing stance. I dropped quickly to the ground and
grabbed at his leg, tipping it up. He lost his balance quickly and
went clattering to the ground. I jumped on top of him, trying to
restrain him, but he was too strong, twisting and turning and
wriggling out of my grasp like a wet fish.

He piled into me again, as we
wrestled in close contact, his fists trying to punch me in whatever
space they could find. He jabbed me hard in the abdomen, punching the
air from my gut, and I stumbled back. He was on me in a flash,
swinging hard, but I managed to catch him with my own fist on his
stitched up eye.

He clattered to the ground and
the crowd gasped at seeing their undefeated champion hit the tarmac.
He turned on me, blood now starting to gush out of his re-opened cut,
and roared, charging in again and swinging relentlessly. I put my
arms up to defend against the barrage, his fists clattering mainly
into my forearms.

His breathing was frantic and
erratic as he swung again and again, but he wasn't tiring, wasn't
slowing. One of his fists managed to creep through the gate, sliding
over my forearm and into my cheek. The blow wasn't like being hit
with a boxing glove. It wasn't like being hit when wearing protective
headgear.

No, this with his fist against
my face, and the force of it sent my eyes rolling in my head. I'd
been in fights before, I'd taken many hits from people before, but
not like this. This was on another level.

I stumbled backwards, the world
quickly blurring as my eyes tried to settle again on my opponent. The
people in the crowd began to merge, colors slipping and sliding over
each other like a painters palette. I tried to focus on Cade as he
moved in towards me, stamping forward as the noise in the crowd begun
to increase.

I tried to get my hands up but
Cade was too quick, catching me again across the face, this time with
a swinging punch that caused me to spin around on the spot and
clatter down onto the floor.

I fell hard, my body dropping
like a dead weight, and felt my head crack onto the tarmac.
Immediately I could sense people rushing in to help me, the fight
having gone too far. My eyes started to darken, flickering wildly as
people descended on me to help.

The last thing I saw, however,
before everything went black, was the sight of Cade walking casually
away from me through the parting crowd. They backed away, leaving a
gap for him to walk through.

He didn't turn. He didn't try to
help. He didn't care.

Present Day

Gemma

I spent that weekend closeted
away at home. I didn't go outside. I didn't want to see anyone. I
didn't even go online or watch the news.

I wanted to forget everything
right now, shut myself off from the world. I knew everyone would be
talking about Cade's victory, about his rising star. I didn't want to
think about him or see him. I didn't want to face any of it.

I'd tried calling Zack a few
times but he hadn't picked up. The last time I'd seen him, on
Saturday morning, he'd gone charging off away from me suddenly,
chasing someone down the street. He must have thought it was the
person who'd taken our picture the night before in the bar. Since
then, however, I hadn't seen or heard from him.

I wanted to know if he'd caught
the person. I wanted to know if he was OK. He'd seemed so low when he
came over to my flat, so drained and upset. I guess he probably just needed space,
like I did, to get things together in his head.

It was Monday morning now,
however, and I had to go to work. I knew people would be talking
about Cade and asking about Cade but I'd have to face that at some
point. The girls in the office would probably be happy to know that
we'd broken up. Every damn girl in the city would find that news to
be most welcome.

When I stepped through the main
double doors I already had my defences up. The last time I'd walked
into the office on a Monday after Cade's last fight people had only
just found out that we were seeing each other. Now they knew, so I
had every idea as to what to expect.

Whispers, glancing looks in my
direction, even the odd under-the-breath insult. I'd have to rise
above it and ignore them. There was nothing else I could do.

As I approached my desk I saw
that Annie wasn't there. In some strange way I was glad. I
loved her but I knew she'd be just as interested in talking about
Cade as everyone else. Friend or no friend, I didn't want to talk
about it all, it was still too fresh and raw in my mind. All I wanted
to do was get my head down and start my day.

So that's what I did, turning my
attention back to the boring, entirely uninspiring job that I was now
resigned to. There would be no promotion for me. No, that honor would
go to the brown-nose bitch now walking over towards me. She had this
snide smile on her face, like she'd beaten me and was getting great
pleasure out of it. I wanted to knock the look straight off her stupid mug.

We rarely talked, Tara and I,
and when we did it was never pleasant. She had this way about her,
this skill of picking up on something you were insecure or sensitive
about and then probing it. She was like a cat playing with a mouse,
cruel and spiteful. Basically, she was Martha Banks junior, a perfect
protege for that scheming cow.

“
Hey Gemma,” she said with
feigned friendliness, “how was your weekend?” She spoke with an
acid tongue, her tone devoid of any genuine interest.

“
Great,” I said flatly.
“You?”

Fuck it. Why did I ask?!

“
Oh, very productive,” she
said. “Did you enjoy Cade's fight? You know, the part of it you
actually saw?”

I stopped tapping on my keyboard
immediately and looked her straight in the eye for the first time.

“
Excuse me?”

“
Well,” she continued, “you
missed most of the fight didn't you....you know, because you were
drinking with his twin brother.”

She smiled at me, this horrible,
calculating smile.

It was her! It was her who
took that picture!
My heart
began pounding, a fury building inside me.

“
You. You saw us? You took the
picture and sent it to Cade?” I growled quietly, keen to keep my
voice low for want of other people hearing.

She continued to smile, staring
at me through cold eyes.

“
Oh, I did more than just
that.”

“
What have you done?!” I
snarled again, my eyes widening.

She didn't answer, but just
laughed casually as she looked at me, before slowly turning and
walking away.

I sat, fixed in my seat, my hand
shaking, my mind tumbling. She glanced back at me as she went, this
provocative smirk etched across her vile face. I saw her move off
down the corridor towards Mrs Banks' office, a victorious air about
her.

Oh she'd won the promotion all
right. The story, the dramatic story of betrayal that she was working
on – it was all about me, all about Cade, all about Zack.

I stood quickly and stormed off
after her, chasing her down as she opened the door to Banks' office
and walked through. I moved down the corridor past the secretary,
Brenda. She shouted at me as I passed: “you can't go in there,
she's busy,” but I didn't listen.

I
walked straight past her, straight towards Martha Banks' office, and
straight through the door into her bare, cold, and entirely
unemotional office. It was just like her: empty, indifferent, and
wholeheartedly cold-blooded.

I could feel a warmth growing
inside me as I stepped heavily into Martha Banks' office and shut the
door. I didn't care to shut it quietly, as I usually would. I almost
slammed it shut, sending a loud bang vibrating down the corridor and
onto the main office floor.

People probably looked up from
their desks, wondering what was going on, what drama was unfolding,
but I didn't care. I had to know what the fuck was going on, and I
had to know right now.

Mrs Banks was staring at me
calmly as I entered, her gaze torn from Tara and over to me at the
door.

“
Gemma,” she said, her voice
calm as always, “so good of you to join us.”

I was breathing heavily, so many
things I wanted to say.

“
Please, take a seat,” Banks
continued, gesturing her hand to the spare seat in front of her desk.

I didn't move, I didn't answer.
I wasn't going to do anything she told me to do.

I
turned my gaze to Tara, who stood holding a file under her arm and a
sick smile on her face.
How could she love this so much,
enjoy torturing me like this. What sort of devil child was she.

“
You fucking bitch,” I said
to her. “You'd fuck up all our lives for a promotion?”

She just kept smiling, no answer
or response dropping from her lips, and walked over to Mrs Banks,
placing the file down on her desk.

“
This is the whole thing
Martha,” she said, “pictures and my entire write-up on the
story.”

“
Excellent Tara, this is just
the sort of thing I was looking for,” Banks said, turning her eyes
back on me. “It's a shame, Gemma, that you don't possess the same
ruthless edge as young Tara here. She'll go far, you know.”

“
Thank you so much Martha,”
Tara said again, “that means a lot coming from you.”

“
Not at all my dear. I should
be the one thanking you. Our next edition is going to sell like
hotcakes with this story as the main headline.”

She turned again to me. “You
see Gemma, this is what it's all about. Drama, betrayal, deception:
that's what people want to read about. It is regrettable that you're
going to have to be involved in all of this business, but I'm afraid
that's just the way life is.”

I could not believe these two
women. They were enjoying this, creating something out of nothing,
breaking up a family, creating hatred between two twins.

“
So you're going to lie and
say that Zack and I are cheating on Cade, is that it? You're going to
twist things and ruin lives just to sell a few extra magazines?! How
can you do that? How can you live with yourselves?!”

They looked at each other
briefly as Tara giggled and smirked.

“
Dear girl,” said Banks, “I
think you must be deluded.” She pulled a picture out of the file
and slid it across her desk. “Does this look like we're lying. I'm
afraid you've made your bed Gemma, and Zack Logan has slept in it.”