His smirk deepens. He glances in the rearview mirror again—Aurora is still sleeping, and Dolores is turned toward the window, her eyes closed. I don’t know if she’s sleeping or just pissed off, but she’s clearly not paying attention.
“Dress up,” he breathes, so low there’s no way Dolores could hear. “Pull those panties to the side.”
“Logan!” I hiss.
“Go on.” He’s driving on a relatively straight, deserted road, and allows his eyes to rove regularly toward me. “Do it. I just want to look.”
He sounds so needy that I at last give in. I pull my panties to the side like he asks, and he stares at my folds for a moment, before forcing his attention back to the road.
I rearrange myself, feeling more frustrated than I want to admit. It would have been pretty fucked up to do anything more than we’ve just done, and even this feels wrong. But I’m growing just as needy as him. I want to turn off my brain and remember he owns me. I have so much to lose now. It’s terrifying.
I’m happy, and I can’t let Carmelo take that away. I just can’t.
Why don’t I deserve happiness?
“Logan,” I ask after a few minutes, noticing that the sun is slowly sinking in the sky, “are we going to stop for the night?”
Visions of what I’m hoping he’ll do to me the moment we’re alone again dance before me.
He’s drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, looking antsy, as if he’s thinking those same thoughts. “We’re gonna keep driving all night long. You should sleep.”
I squeeze my legs together to try to alleviate some of my frustration. “How about you?”
He smiles wryly. “I’ll manage. Go to sleep, little ghost.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m too nervous.”
“Just close your eyes, baby.”
Sighing, I lean back, trying to get into a comfortable position. I know I would be far more comfortable leaning against the window, but I hate putting that distance between us, even though I know it’s ridiculous. Instead, I tilt my head toward Logan.
I nearly moan when I suddenly feel his hand on my breasts again. Only this time, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of pinching my nipples. Instead, he starts to stroke them, tweaking them gently, massaging my sore breasts.
It feels really good.
I’m lulled into a state of relaxation, and before I know it, I’m sinking into a deep sleep.
33
Logan
The minute Lia is asleep, I turn all my attention back to the road—and to the absolute shitfest we’re in.
I’d never in a million years let Damien take a bullet for me, and knowing he was ready to makes my chest tight. But telling Carmelo our location definitely doesn’t make life easy.
I know tensions have been building for a while, but it feels like everything has changed overnight. Coltello killing the don—I can barely wrap my head around it. I never imagined he could be the rat. The underboss!
I always knew Idaho was a mistake, but these events have just confirmed it. It would have been pretty fucking hard for Moretti to have gained control of the Syndicate, seeing as he had never even stepped foot in Idaho until a few years ago. Still, he’s a powerful man, and hewasmarried to the Syndicate boss’s daughter. I can understand the appeal, too—they deal drugs, but not the street variety. Their thing is getting their hands on new, powerful drugs, potent shit that can interest the army, or the big crime lords, if the army doesn’t pay up.
Still, taking control of that kind of operation isn’t enough to justify sacrificing the don’s life, and his attention being sofocused on Idaho meant that Coltello was able to sneak up behind him and end his life.
Now, that leaves his weak-ass, little bitch of a son in power. Carmelo is far less predictable in a way than his father, because he makes stupid, weak decisions, informed by petty grudges rather than on logic.
I guess it’s not such a petty grudge to want his wife back, butfuck, that’s not going to happen. I’ll burn down the whole mafia before I let him put a grubby hand on her.
I should have fucking killed him when I had the chance. Now, it might be too late.
The heat is on, because Damien is right—Carmelo wants us dead for having taken Lia. The rest of the family wants us dead too, because they don’t like how much power we have. It was only a matter of time before that tension boiled over. People don’t wield real power in the mafia when they don’t have an ounce of Italian blood in them. Even less when they’re fresh out of high school.
