“Fourth floor, at the far end of the hallway, where we keep the old reports—“ I try not to get hit in the face by the closing stairwell door before I continue. “There’s a hidden storage room; I found it while— I just found it. Don’t think anyone has been there in the past ten years, so we should be safe until I find a better solution.”
I enter Logan’s room right behind him and flop down on the couch I could call my bed at this point. It’s where I get to sleep on the nights Logan wants me near, but not close. The nights he tells me to fuck off and go to my own room, but if we’re honest, this is kind of my room. Logan would probably beg to differ, but I have a toothbrush in his bathroom, which means I have rights. And no matter how often he says he can’t stand me, he wouldn’t dare to throw my toothbrush out.
“How did you get through psych-eval?” he asks once he finally looks at me.
“How didyouget through psych-eval?”
“I didn’t,” he says with a self-righteous grin on his handsome face. “No shrink, had it included in my contract.”
I swallow the comment about how he, of all people, would benefit from talking to a professional.
“The room needs to be set up first, and oncewe’re done, we have to bring her up there. It would be a good idea to leave the compound for a few hours to make it look like we’ve dropped her off somewhere…” When I look at Logan, he’s focused on the handle of his favorite knife.
“Are you even listening?”
“Barely.”
Is this how Rockwell feels when he’s dealing with us? No wonder he’s going gray.
“Do you have something to contribute to the conversation?” I ask, nudging his feet with mine.
“Yeah, well, have fun.”
“Yeah, well, no,” I repeat mockingly. “You’re going to help me.”
With narrowed eyes, he looks up from his knife.
“There’s an inflatable bed in my closet; go over and fetch it while I take care of the rest.”
“Do I want to know why you have that?” he asks, and the way the words roll off his tongue makes me want to tell him a lie about a certain 6’10” someone who I know he can’t stand and who’s currently in Europe. Who has also never been in my room or my bed, but sometimes, I enjoy seeing Logan jealous.
It’s a little treat. One you regret having, like eating a wheel of Brie as a lactose intolerant person.
The actual story behind the bed is pretty simple and not raunchy at all. We’re allowed to furnish our rooms how we want—to a certain degree. Apparently, waterbeds are “a danger to the structural integrity of the building in case of a leak,” so I got an inflatable bed for the nights I can’t bring myself to sleep on bricks held together by sadness.
“Anything else I should pack for your princess? Towels, some fragrance sticks, a bottle of champagne?”
“Just the bed is fine,” I reply, ignoring the rest. “It’s folded, but you can’t miss it when you open my closet.”
“You call this shit folded?”Logan huffs when he joins me in room 4.7 about ten minutes later. God knows how, but he shoved the bed in a military backpack that now looks close to bursting at the seams.
While he took his sweet time, I got a pillow from the rec room, a spare blanket from our supply closet, and I even found a battery-powered night light for Lily.Foundisn’t the right word. I stole it from Charlie when I hopped by his room, but he’ll get over it.
“What is wrong with you?” Logan yells as I rip a piece of plywood from the wall at the room's far end.
“You want to give her a bucket for when she has to go to the toilet?” I yell back. “No one uses this floor, so calm the fuck down. Right here,” I point at the new-old hole in the wall, “is a bathroom. It’ll do for now.”
“For now, for now.” Logan hisses profanities, trying to get the bed out of the backpack. “You don’t know what you’re going to do with her, right?” He asks, his glare turning even icier upon hearing my answer.
“We, Logan. This is a group project.”
7
LOGAN
He’s going to be the death of me one day. If not through carelessness, then through annoyance.
While Max stocks up this ridiculous excuse of a room like he’s starring in one of those HGTV shows he’s obsessed with, I’m trying to come up withtheargument that’ll convince him to blow this suicide mission.
