22. Logan

22

LOGAN

Teysha left the apartment before I was even off the phone with Mace. I didn't have to search far for her whereabouts. The bus terminal in town confirms she came by and bought a ticket to Boulder. She was finally going home.

We'll have to dissolve the marriage at a distance.

It's not what I preferred, but considering the mix-up of the last few weeks, I'll take it.

Teysha got her wires crossed. She let herself believe what was going on between us was real.

We were really married.

She chose to lie when we talked about updates on the annulment. I was furious with her when the clerk told me the truth. I didn't even want to look at her 'til I calmed down and realized I was at fault too. I had let her believe the things she had.

What else did I expect when I was letting her sleep in my bed every night and having sex with her?

A woman like Teysha was bound to get confused. She thought things meant more than they do .

I care about her… a lot.

I wouldn't have entertained having her around if I didn't. I wouldn't have done half the shit I've done if I didn't care about her.

But she still doesn't get that I'm not the man for her. The husband she's searching for is still out there. He'll give her things I never could.

The kind of happy ending she deserves.

The first night she's gone, the bed feels strangely… empty. She's on my mind as I walk out of the bathroom fresh from my hot shower and find the room silent and untouched. Normally, she'd be waiting for me. She'd be perched on the bed reading or watching TV.

If she hadn't showered with me.

Another routine we had formed over time.

My mind's eye projects the memories before me like a movie reel. I can practically see the smile lighting up her pretty face. Her smooth, golden brown skin peeking out from the little nightgowns she often wore. When I peel back the covers and get in bed, I can still feel her soft weight curling up against me.

A funny pang hits my stomach. I might as well have missed a step on the way down the stairs.

Her Bible catches my eye, sitting on the nightstand. She must've forgotten to take it with her. I reach for it, propping it open out of curiosity, right to the last page she'd bookmarked.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

The funny pang intensifies. Morphs into some kind of deep ache. The kind of feeling you get when you're missing something… or someone .

I put the Bible back and twist off the bedroom light under the assumption it'll go away once I fall asleep.

Hours later, as dawn chases off the dark and brightens the world outside, I'm wide awake. I'm sitting up in bed after tossing and turning for most of the night. It comes to me what's bothering me and why I couldn't sleep.

I reach for my phone and send off a text.

checking in on u. how's boulder? U make it ok?

The message shows sent, though it'll probably be a couple more hours before Teysha reads it. She was probably tired by the time she finally reached her mother's house. If how they behaved when I met them is any indication, I'd be surprised if they even gave her enough breathing room to check her text messages so soon after returning home.

Filing the situation away, I get out of bed .

Mornings have never been my thing, but what else can you do when you're up early?

I start off my day focusing on what's most important—the revenge I'm seeking against Abraham and the Chosen Saints.

Sydney frowns at the sight of me when I walk through the Steel Saloon's doors. She's obviously heard from Mason about Teysha and I going our separate ways. As her closest friend, it's no wonder she disagrees.

"Have you talked to Teysha yet?" she asks without a good morning.

"It's barely eight a.m."

"I called her last night, and she didn't answer."

"Why would she? She's just made it home. Give it time."

I might not know my brother's fiancée well, but if there's one thing I've learned about her, it's that Sydney's not one to mince words or hide her feelings. Her eyes shrink into a narrow-eyed glare as she watches me cross the barroom floor.

"You really don't give a damn, do you?"

I stop mid stride, cocking a brow at her. "You better have a good reason to make that accusation."

Sydney rises from the barstool she's seated on to place her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't if I didn't."

"Then are you gonna elaborate or am I supposed to be a fucking mind reader?"

"Your wife," she grinds out, standing tall on tiptoe. "Or have you already forgotten her?"

It's no wonder Sydney's Mace's old lady.

She's exactly the kinda woman he's attracted to—someone with guts. Someone who can challenge him when he needs it. But while Mace might find her attitude sexy, I find it annoying as hell. Especially when she's insinuating what she is.

"How could I forget her?" I ask. "I'm the one who's been looking after her. I'm the one who went back to the compound just to rescue her. And I'm the one who's gonna slit Abraham's throat for what he did to her. So, no, I ain't fucking forgotten about her. Everything I've been doing has been for her. You got any other questions or are you done speaking on shit you don't understand?"

Sydney's nostrils flare, her glare no less fierce. "So you do care about her."

"Teysha's a good woman. She didn't deserve what's happened to her."

"We can agree on that." Sydney drops her hands from her hips and blows out a sigh. "I just want to make sure she's alright."

"She is. She bought a ticket to Boulder and got on the bus."

"How do you?—"

"I spoke to the clerk at the bus terminal. Her bus arrived on time at seven p.m. last night."

"That's good to know. But I'd still like to speak to her."

"Give it a couple hours. She's probably still asleep."

Sydney nods, though her expression's still worried. "She is a good person, Logan. You might've been frustrated by her, but she only ever means well."

It bothers me Sydney's assuming I care so little about Teysha. She's under the impression I don't give a damn when it couldn't be more different. The truth is, Teysha's been on my mind nonstop. I've even got her broken cross necklace on me.

A bad idea considering it reminds me of her every second it's in my pocket .

I've been thinking about her so much that I'm seeking any distraction I can.

Something to get her out of my head.

But voicing this is another matter altogether. While Sydney's assumptions piss me off, I'm not equipped to explain how. I'm not even sure myself.

Why the hell does it bother me that she thinks I don't care about Teysha? What does it matter if she's aware how I feel about her?

I swallow down these questions, rejecting any possible answers. Knowing wouldn't change anything.

Teysha's already gone. It might not seem like it right now, but it's for the best.

She'll be able to move on the way she should.

"Tell me if you talk to her," Sydney says.

I nod. "You'll be the first to know."

"Thanks. I guess you're not so bad."

"You make a habit of busting men's balls?"

"Ask Mace."

"That answer told me all I need to know."

I leave the barroom behind, taking the staircase that leads into the basement. Moses is on shift guarding Mandy. He takes the head nod I give him as a cue to go on a break. The door thuds shut after him.

I give it another second before I step toward Mandy. She's withered and unwashed, connected to a wooden beam by chains. At the sight of me, she perks up, shaking back her scraggly red hair.

"My favorite boy. Finally come for more? It's been so long."

I curl my fists at my sides, wound tight enough to snap. "You're gonna give me answers or you're in for a bad time."

"You're so aggressive. I knew you had it in you. No wonder the Leader was so threatened." A maniacal giggle bubbles out of her, flashing scum-riddled teeth. "But I wasn't intimidated, boy. I was turned on. I saw that dick on you when they first brought you in and stripped you bare. I knew I had to have a taste— AGH !"

I've gripped her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. The chain cuffed around her wrist rattles. She sucks in a sharp breath. I squeeze tighter against the pulse beating in her neck. We're inches apart, peering into each other's eyes.

Surprise lives in hers. She wasn't expecting me to put my hands on her.

As if I don't hate her fucking guts for everything she's done.

"Where is he?" I ask through bared teeth.

"Why would I know?"

"You know more about him than anyone."

She squirms against me, clawing at my clenched hands. "I don't know what you're blathering about."

A second passes. A single drumbeat.

Then I act. I rip Mandy away from the wall and drag her toward the interrogation chair in the middle of the room. She's dropped down into it before she can protest. I twist her arms behind the back of the chair and lock the chains in place. A howl of outrage wavers out of her.

"How dare you, boy?! BOY!"

I've turned my back on her. I'm cutting across the basement floor to pick up one of the water jugs in the corner. It's overstock Mick puts down here when he's out of room everywhere else. On my way, I snatch an old dishrag from the sink.

Mandy's cussing me out as I return. Her eyes bulge from their sockets, the gleam in them wild. It's the same look I've seen her get when one of her demands are not met. It usually proceeded whatever believer pissed her off being whipped or beaten.

I was on the receiving end more than once. I toss the dirty dish rag over her hideous face and uncap the water jug in my left hand.

"What are you— gulg-gulg-gulg !"

She jerks in place as I wrench her head back and pour the water over her face. Her body twitches like an insect sprayed with Raid while water drowns her out. I empty the jug onto her, then twist my fingers tighter in her thinning strands.

"Tell me where the fuck he is or you're about to suffer."

"Don't you dare use that tongue to threaten me!"

"Have it your way."

I'm husking out ragged breaths as I stride over to the rest of the water jugs. I lug several across the room, setting them down like ammunition where Mandy's chained to the chair. A shrill screech rattles out of her as I fist more of her hair and pour another round of water.

The towel's soaked, so drenched the terry fabric has molded to every contour of her face. As gallons of water flood her, it recreates the feeling of being drowned. She's suffocating under the water cascading over her like a waterfall.

Her legs kick out in protest. Her tortured screams garbled.

Halfway through the third jug, I stop again to ask the same question. "Tell me where the fuck he is."

"HOW… DARE… YO— ARGHHH !"

I drench her in the rest of the jug. Then a fourth jug 'til she's so overcome, she can't even make any sounds. She's forced to sit in the chair and take it.

A sick, twisted satisfaction pushes me on. I grit my teeth, relishing the torture I'm putting her through. The pain and discomfort of feeling like she's drowning again and again. She chokes and coughs and twitches and I only pour more water.

It's what she deserves.

It's what she gets for doing what she did. For using me so many fucking times, I've blacked them out. For wielding the power she had to ensure any time I stepped out of line I was beat down. I was broken 'til I was just some thing she called upon like a pet.

This bitch deserves what Abraham deserves—to suffer every moment she's alive. Then to die a death that's a thousand times more painful.

As adrenaline pulses through me, I'm driven crazy with thoughts of revenge. Brutal barbaric methods I could use to carry it out. I could make her garbled screams seem like a child's laughter. I could really have her hurting.

My hand slips into my pocket for my Swiss knife.

"Ghost!"

The drum of madness beating inside me comes to a halt. I look up feeling like I've woken from a dream. I'm no longer alone.

Mace and Sydney are standing at the foot of the staircase leading into the basement.

"What?" I spit, agitated. "What is it?"

"It's Teysha," Sydney answers. "I just got off the phone with her grandmother. She never made it to Boulder."