He cackles out a laugh. “You think Ed will continue without you? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard outside of you fucking Adrian Mack.” He leans in closer. “You need to drop the case and get close to me again. That’s the only way you convince Waters you’re not a threat.”
“We’re over, Logan. We’ve been over for ages.”
“I’m done letting you punish me. I fucked someone else. Now you have, too. It’s over. You belong to me. You belong with me. And this is how this works. You will walk out of here with me. We will go home and fuck. Now. Agree.”
Chapter Four
PRI
The very idea of me with Logan curdles in my stomach about as well as sour milk.
That will never happen and yet I know I need to buy time for help to arrive. I know I should pretend to do as he orders. I should give him the agreement that he demands. That’s how I get out of here without either one of us getting hurt. I have to play the game. I know all of this and yet, I can’t get the words of agreement to come out of my mouth. And then his mouth is on my mouth, his tongue thrusting past my teeth, his breath suffocating me. I shove against his chest, desperate to free myself, and to no avail. His hands are all over me, his legs squeezing my knees, capturing my legs, and damn it, I can’t get free. I struggle, I fight. I am unworthy of him in strength.
I can’t get to my gun. My hands are trapped between his body and my own. But I do the next best thing.
I bite his tongue.
Hard.
He growls and tears his mouth from mine, anger raging in the face I’d once thought handsome and now see as nothing but ugly. He twists my hair in his hand and pulls with such force that I scream. But he is already kissing me again, swallowing my cry for help, which is exactly what my scream is. Fight or flight kicks in and at this point, there is only one option. Somehow, I free my hand just enough to reach in my purse and pull my weapon, planting it against his gut. “Back up or I’ll shoot.”
On some level, I realize there’s knocking on the door. I’m not even sure how long it’s been happening. The room is white noise and still, I say, my voice quaking as I do, “Let go or I’ll shoot, Logan.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You won’t risk going to prison. And if you shoot me, you will rot in jail. I’ll make sure of it.”
He leans into the steel of the gun, daring me to pull the trigger, confident enough that I won’t pull the trigger that he doesn’t even try to take the gun from me. He yanks my hair again and leans into me—his mouth is on my mouth and oh God, I want to shoot him. But shooting him and killing him are two different things. At this angle, I will kill him. I can’t kill him. I’m forced to lower the gun. He smiles against my mouth, pure smug satisfaction, pinning my shoulders with his, essentially ensuring I cannot lift the gun again. He yanks my dress up, and then his hand is between my thighs, shoving under my panties. I’m trapped, completely trapped. I should have killed him. God, I should have killed him.
The room spins and I try to squirm, try to get away, try to lift a knee, and fail in every effort. I need him off me. I need this to end. For a moment, I go blank, and then, I have no idea how, but I’m back in a moment I’d shared with Adrian.
His hand slides to my purse, resting on top. “Is your gun inside?”
“Always,” I assure him.
“Good,” he approves. “We both need to know that you can blow a hole in someone’s shoe, someone who might or might not be named Logan, and back him the fuck off if you need to.”
My lips curve. “In his shoe?”
“Losing a toe freaks a person out. Never forget that.”
“I’d laugh,” I say, “but I don’t think you’re joking.”
The memory fades into the present and it’s left me both informed and motivated. My legs are still pinned. My arms are stuck by my sides. I have to make this stop and Logan’s hands are all over me, his tongue choking me, stealing my voice. I shift the gun in my hand and aim for where I think his foot is. My heart leaps, and adrenaline consumes me. It’s almost too much for me to breathe, but still, my finger pulls the trigger. The weapon jerks in my hand with the force of the discharge. Logan is now screaming and he stumbles backward, blood spurting from his foot, my aim apparently right on target. Somehow, I remain calm and I shove my gun into my purse and run for the door. With a shaky hand, I unlock it and yank it open to find Adrian is right there, grabbing me, pulling me into his arms in the doorway.