Sweet Jayne (25 page)

I
pace the kitchen with my eyes on the clock. Fifty-two minutes. Logan has been on the porch consoling one of his detectives who lost his wife last week for fifty-two minutes. And I’m about to flip the fuck out. The second hand ticks by much more quickly than it should and panic causes my heart to thunder in my chest.

“What are you so anxious about?” a deep voice grumbles from behind me.

I jump, letting out a squeak of surprise, and frown to see Kasper leaning against the door frame sipping on a bottle of water. Every night this week, he’s come over to work on the walls. Logan doesn’t seem to notice, but I can’t help but think Kasper takes his time—that he’s dragging his feet on this project for a reason.

“I just really need to speak with Logan,” I blurt out and cast another weary glance at the clock.

“Why?”

Jerking my gaze over to him, I gape at him with a withering stare. “I just do. He’s, uh, timing something for me and the time is up in seven more minutes.”

His dark brows pinch together as he assesses me. But rather than badgering me further, he flashes me a wicked grin and winks. “I’ll take care of it, sweet Jayne.”

Instead of cringing at the name, I watch as he makes his way to the front door. I chew on my fingernail as I see him talk to both men through the window. He motions inside and then puts his hand on the other detective’s shoulder. I’m shocked when Logan comes striding in a moment later.

“How is he?” I question as he enters the kitchen. My lips pull into a tight smile in an attempt to hide my anxiety.

“Detective Rhodes? He’ll be okay.” He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. “Tragic his wife was killed.”

I nod and absently swipe the countertop with a rag. “Poor guy. Is he going to be okay?”

“It’s only been a week. He’ll have to get over it eventually though.” Logan saunters over to me and wraps me in a hug from behind. This week only continued to be confusing and torturous—not once has he hit me or abused me. I’d almost be relieved at his calmer mood, but I can’t ever let my guard down around him. I don’t trust him a bit.

His lips find the top of my shoulder and he kisses it softly. My heart races in my chest as I peek over at the clock. Two minutes left.

“Logan,” I say in a whisper. “Did you turn it off?”

He drags his teeth across my flesh causing goosebumps to rise but never sinks his teeth in like I expect. I let out a relieved sigh when he presses a soft kiss there and then pulls away. The front door opens and closes, but all I can think about is him turning the fucker off and soon. Logan may not be hurting me—yet he is fucking with my head and he knows it. He gives me a smug grin and watches the clock for a few lingering seconds. As the time drains away, along with the color on my face, he finally lets out a grunt and pulls out his phone. I attempt to watch—to focus on those numbers—but he enters them too quickly. My stomach plummets to the floor when I realize I still don’t know what they are.

For now, though, that doesn’t matter.

What matters is the fact he’s entered them in.

“Want to come take a look at what I’ve done so far?”

Both Logan and I jerk our gazes to Kasper who leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. His expression feigns disinterest in our exchange, but I know better. I see the questions dancing in his eyes. The wonder.

“Yeah,” Logan says as he tucks his phone back in his pocket. “Then, I need to run up to the station.”

The men leave and I pace the kitchen. Could Kasper have seen?

If he did, I absolutely must get that information from him.

I see the way he devours me with hungry, almost angry, eyes. Messing with him under Logan’s roof is like playing with fire in the devil’s den. But all it takes is five minutes—five minutes and this could all be over.

I need those goddamned numbers.

“You hungry?” I call out once Logan’s Tahoe turns onto the road. Spinning away from the window, I hurry over to the refrigerator to start pulling out fixings for the sandwiches de miga.

Kasper appears in the doorway with a frown. “Tell me what all that was about.”

“Ham, eggs, cheese, tomatoes, green peppers, lettuce, and asparagus all okay? Toasted or untoasted?”

He rolls his eyes at my ignoring him and walks over to me. When his large hands grip my hips, I let out a yelp. His head dips down so he can look at me and he growls. “Tell me.”

Chewing on my lip, I let the thoughts dart around in my head. How much do I tell him? How much is safe?

“Logan uses his phone timer as a form of punishment. If I don’t get him to turn it off in time, things get bad. Real bad.” Not a lie. Not a lie. Not a lie.

“What sort of punishment?”

“Uh,” I stammer. My hands shake with nerves and I fist them to keep them from quivering. “The worst kind actually. The kind that cuts my soul right from my body.”

His eyes dart from me to my hands several times and he scowls. It’s as if he’s struggling with something inside of his head. “What kind?” he questions, a gruff whisper.

I shudder and clamp my eyes shut. But that just makes everything worse. Reopening them, I meet his firm stare. I’m not getting out of this conversation unless I give him some information. He’s a cop. Interrogation is his thing. If only, I could tell him everything. Life would be much simpler. “He uses water to, um, hurt me.” Again, not a lie.

His face darkens and his lips purse into a firm line. “Is that why there’s a big ass pipe running through the wall?”

I blink at him in shock and nod slowly. “Yes.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and I can see indecision warring through him. “What happens if he doesn’t enter in those numbers in time? Does it have something to do with the basement?”

A ragged sigh rushes from me and my knees wobble. I can’t ever think about
that
what-if in too much detail. I’m not strong enough. “Then my life is over. I cannot live with what he has planned. It’s the worst kind of death. And yes,” I tell him with a hiss, “it has everything to do with the basement.”

His hands find my hips to steady my unstable body and I shiver. “Does that code get you
into
the basement? Or out?”

“Both.” I shrug, and bark out a bitter laugh. I’m sure at this point he thinks I’m crazy. “But I don’t know if the one that resets his alarm is the same one to the basement or not.”

“Is this why you stay? Why you won’t leave a man who beats on you? Because you’re afraid of what he’ll do?”

“Partially.”

“So this code is very important to you?”

I nod and meet his gaze. “I would do anything for his code. Anything.”

The corner of his lips curl up into a half grin. “What if I know the code? What would you be willing to do to get it from me?”

Hope, a taunting bitch of an emotion, flutters through me. “What do you want?”

“You.”

His hands find their way to my throat and I frown in confusion as he holds me in place with a gentle clasp around my neck. I swallow and dart my eyes to his. “Me?”

Focus, focus, focus. Ignore your heart and use your brain.

He nods as his lips descend upon mine. His grip tightens, causing me to gasp for air and he smashes his mouth to mine, stealing my breath. When his tongue slips into my mouth, his hold on me loosens and I let out a moan of relief. I shouldn’t be kissing him, but he may know the code.
That code is everything to me.
Throwing myself into the kiss, because a plan’s a plan, even if it’s a bad one, I fist his T-shirt and tug him closer. His hands leave my neck thankfully and travel down my body until he’s gripping my ass.

“I want you,” he hisses out against my lips. “Jesus!”

He grinds his hard cock against my belly and growls.

“What do you want from me? Just tell me and you can have it.” Couldn’t ever be as bad as what Logan demands from me on a daily basis. With Kasper, I can survive it. He could never be as cruel as Logan.

I don’t get an answer but instead he twists me away from him and eases me over the counter. The world spins when he pushes up my dress over my hips and tugs my panties down. He playfully bites my ass cheek and I cry out.

“Beg,” he orders.

With my cheek on the cold granite, I stare at the head of lettuce. “Please give me the code.”

His fingers whisper over my flesh and he chuckles. “You really do want that number. What I meant was beg for me to fuck you.”

I freeze at his words and clamp my eyes closed. I’m busy trying to talk myself into what I’m about to beg for him to do when I’m swept up into a memory. Memories of Donovan always help me cope with what I must do.

We had sex.

Donovan and I had sex.

But that was months ago. And he’s avoided me ever since. I knew it would happen—the moment he pulled out of me, his cock dripping, that he’d hate himself for doing it. Selfishly, though, I’d wanted it anyway.

Now, I’m devastated and broken apart.

His calls are non-existent.

His texts are formal.

His visits are zero.

Which is why I’m going to force him to talk about us. I’ve prepped myself and hope he won’t be able to deny me. I’m wearing a skimpy, fitted black dress that showcases all of my curves and sky-high heels. One look at me in this outfit, and he’ll have no choice but to notice me.

I stop walking down the hallway to his penthouse suite to catch my reflection in the glass of a framed picture hanging on the wall. My dark hair has been curled into loose waves and I’ve painted my supple lips blood red. I hope he thinks about all of the things I can do with this mouth. With a flick of my hair over my shoulder, I strut down to his doorway. As soon as I reach his door and my hand is poised to knock, I hear shouts.

“I’m taking a goddamned shower and when I get back out, you better have this shit figured out.”

A door slams and I freeze.

What if he’s trying to work things out with Mamá?

What if he’s fucking someone besides me?

I don’t care, I’ll make him see we belong together. With a deep breath, I twist the knob and almost squeal to see it’s unlocked. I push into the room and shut the door quietly behind me. My heels make purposeful taps along the marbled entryway floor as I head toward the living area. When I see Dan, his CFO, I can’t help the smile of relief on my face.

“Where’s Donovan?” I question.

Dan’s gaze lifts from the mountain of paperwork that is scattered along the top of the coffee table and he glares at me. Ever since he and Darcy were busted for their relationship and he was put on probation at work for sexual misconduct with a subordinate, he’s been angry. Donovan knew but never said anything. It was when one of the guests happened upon them having sex in Dan’s office that it had to be addressed. Darcy broke off their fling, or whatever it was, because she was humiliated once people at the office found out. Leaving Dan a miserable and bitter man.

His lips turn up into a predatory grin. A shiver runs through me as his calculating eyes turn dark with fury. He rises to his feet and stalks over to me. “He’s cooling off. Been in a pissy-ass mood for months now. Did you miss your daddy?”