At least I knew I could trust him. Logan might be a tad unstable, but he was utterly devoted to Shelby. He wouldn’t touch my Little Bird with a ten-foot pole, which he proved when I ducked into the car, and Marnie freaked out.
“Get away from me,” she screamed while throwing her arms about wildly.
Goddamnit. I blamed Logan for this shit. I’d have been paying attention if he hadn’t shown up. And what was he doing while I fought to get a hold of Marnie’s flailing limbs? He was laughing. Son of a bitch was hunched over, clutching his side like this was the funniest fucking thing he’d ever seen.
Not that I was complaining. If the roles were reversed, I’d find it amusing too. Plus, I was nothing if not prepared. One jab from the needle I had stashed in my jacket was all it took for Marnie’s attack to die down.
I would’ve used it earlier, even had it in my hand ready to go when she fainted. Now that shit I didn’t see coming.
“Get away,” Marnie whispered while trying to lift her hand.
I watched her fingers twitch against the seat.
“What’s wrong, can’t move your hand?”
She was trying. I could see the frustration in her expression as she ground out, “Fuck you.”
I admired her conviction. It was a useless fight, of course. There was no staving off the drugs pumping through her veins, but she still tried.
“Don’t you worry, Little Bird.” I cupped her face and grazed my thumb across her cheek. “We’ll play that game soon enough.”
Even though her eyelids drooped shut, she still managed quietly to mumble, “Never.”
There was nothing more beautiful than the way she looked right now. Perfect skin streaked with blood while beads of sweat trickled down her supple cleavage. I was half tempted to fuck her right there and then, but…
“That was fucking great,” Logan cackled.
Why the fuck hadn’t I killed this prick yet?
Grumbling out my dissatisfaction, I scooped Marnie’s limp form up and headed for the jet. I was anxious to get my Bird locked in her cage, away from prying eyes.
The only thing that made me pause was the look on Logan’s face.
“Jesus, Preston.” His eyes roamed over the girl in my arms. “I get that you have particular tastes….”
“What?” One quick glance down told me what he was talking about. “It’s not her blood.”
“Oh.” He shrugged.
And that was why I liked the guy. Anybody else would’ve asked a million questions. What did you do? Where’s the body? And so on. Not Logan. I could’ve come back drenched in blood carrying two heads, and he wouldn’t give a shit.
His sense of boundaries was another matter altogether.
When I moved to climb the stairs into the jet, I had to stop and look back at him. Prick was getting ready to follow me in.
“Can I help you?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m good.”
This mother…
“Don’t you have your own ride?”
His brows knit. “And?”
“And, go home the way you got here.”
Logan’s head fell back with a groan. “But there’s no one to talk to.”
