Текст книги "Walk Through Fire"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

Suddenly, we hit rocky ground.

But it all had to be faced and maybe sooner, having it all out there, was better than later.

“I like working,” I told him carefully. “And my job is busy.”

“Millie, you think I’m gonna settle for you carvin’ out time for a quick blowjob every once in a while, you best think again. We gotta lotta time to make up for. While we’re doin’ that, you’re gonna be takin’ my dick a lot, doin’ it in a variety of ways, and I’m gonna be takin’ my time givin’ it to you.”

These words only had a special subset of effects and I was so busy focusing on them, I had no reply.

“I see that’s caught your attention,” he muttered, and I hazily focused on him. “So we’ll start with that. But fair warnin’, your life is gonna be filled, beautiful, with the good shit that makes life worth livin’. So when you get back to work, you gotta think about how that’s gonna come about because your days livin’ as a ghost plannin’ parties for other people to enjoy and not havin’ that for yourself are done. Hear?”

I heard.

I liked.

I didn’t know how it was going to work out.

I just knew I was going to do what I could to find those ways.

However.

“Are you bossier than before or did I just not notice how bossy you were before?” I asked, and it wasn’t testy, it was voiced as I felt it, like I genuinely wanted to know.

Logan grinned. “No fuckin’ clue. What I do got a clue about is you best get used to the bossy. You give me stick about any a’ this shit, you’re gonna see a lot of it.”

My gaze drifted to his ear as my lips mumbled, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I am,” he replied firmly, and I looked back to him just in time to watch his head angle to the side. “Now, we woke up. We had a surprise family reunion. We had waffles. We had a drama. We had a spectacular fuck. We got some shit straight. In all that, you know what we haven’t had?”

“No,” I answered.

“A kiss.”

My, “Oh,” was a soft breath.

“So kiss me so we can shower,” he demanded. “Then, you’re right, we gotta get to a place with my girls before I get you inked to my throat. So the tat is out.” He dipped closer. “But I’m thinkin’ we’ll find ways to spend the day.”

I should spend it in my office, sorting through stuff, setting a meeting with Claire to debrief, not to mention unpacking, doing laundry, and getting the stuff Dottie loaned to me ready to return to my sister.

I didn’t mention a word of that.

I lifted my head the two inches it took me to press my lips to Logan’s.

He slanted his head farther and took my lip press, added tongues, and our lip press turned into a bodies melding, arms clasping, fingers clenching, tongues dueling make-out session.

Logan’s phone rang in the middle of it.

He ignored it and carried on.

When he broke the kiss, he did it only to drag me out of bed and into the shower.

It was a good shower.

Excellent.

We used to do that a lot together and I’d missed that too.

I felt the pain.

Then I set it aside to focus on something else. A number of something elses. All of them having to do with Logan, me, warm water, and slithery soap.

And that worked.

Magnificently.

High

His phone beeped with a voice mail after it quit ringing and High looked from it to Millie.

She was sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch. Her bottom half was under a fluffy afghan even though the house was warm, the fire was going, and one of her legs was resting on his thigh that was stretched out seeing as his feet were on her coffee table (something that bought him a look, which got her a grin).

She was staring at the TV, cheeks wet, sniffling.

When what went down went down on the TV screen and seeing her reaction, High’d been worried. This was because the bitch on the television had bit it after having a baby and when that happened, Millie had mildly lost it.

He was concerned this was about why the woman bit it, dying after childbirth.

Then he realized Millie’s blubbering wasn’t about the woman losing her life after pushing out a kid. It was just that she was wound up in the show.

So he relaxed.

As the episode went on, she kept blubbering.

Since she was into it, he reached out and grabbed his phone.

He saw the call was from Tack, as was the voice mail.

This was Tack’s fifth call that day.

None of them High had returned.

He’d spoken to his girls that afternoon and he did it with Millie around. He didn’t lie when he said she was fragile. She’d suffered more than he’d thought she’d suffered. She was happy to have him back but she was piss-poor at hiding the fact that she was also terrified of it.

He got that.

He just had to go gentle.

At the same time she had to find it in her to suck it up.

When he talked to his girls, he noted she found that in her. The conversation wasn’t long, it happened while they were putting together a late lunch, and all he got from Millie were some sweet smiles, and after he disconnected, a hug and a murmured, “You’re cute with them.”

He wasn’t cute with them.

He was a father with two daughters.

That was it.

Millie thought it was cute, though, and he’d roll with that.

While talking to them, he made plans to take them to dinner the next night. He’d also talked to Millie about it. She wouldn’t be there and she’d agreed that was the way to go. He wasn’t going to spring her on his girls. Not like that.

He also wasn’t going to delay. Cleo and Zadie would learn about Millie the next night and they’d meet her soon after.

They were going to have to suck it up, too, or at least Zadie was.

There was not much that was shit about being a dad.

But the part where you had to teach your kids that life could throw curveballs and you had to dig deep to find it in you to adjust was a part of that shit.

There was no getting around it.

And his baby girl was about to face a curveball, so it was his job to guide her to learn how to adjust, take the strike but keep her head up, or better, face it and hit it out of the park.

After lunch, life intruded and High experienced more contradictory emotions, hating the fuck out of it at the same time feeling it was good they were facing it.

This being him leaving to hit a store so they had more food (or, Millie actually was stocked up since her cupboards were seriously lacking) and Millie telling him she had to hit her desk to get some shit sorted. She also had to unpack.

She had a business and she’d been away. He’d had to let that slide.

So he went to the store, bought everything they could need or want, came back, lugged the shit in, and put it away. She did some time at her desk. Then he did some time hanging in the bathroom with her while she unpacked and started laundry.

After that, they settled in for TV, took a break to make dinner, ate it in front of the TV, and then catastrophe struck her program that he was watching because that’s what she wanted but the thing did nothing for him. It was a bunch of uppity folks (even the servants were uppity) wearing old clothes and talking in British accents.

Even when the pretty brunette bought it, it still did nothing for him.

So he went to his voicemail and listened to Tack.

“I get that you’re needin’ to focus, brother,” Tack said in his ear, “but as you know, we got shit to discuss. You’re out of it for now, but that don’t mean we don’t need to go over it with you. So we got a meet at the Compound tomorrow mornin’ at nine. Need your ass there, High. Hate to drag you away from what’s goin’ down, ’specially if you’re sortin’ things with Millie, but you know it’s gotta be done. Especially for Millie. See you there.”

High hit the button to turn off his phone, not knowing what the fuck Tack was talking about.

Especially for Millie.

What did that shit mean?

He looked to Millie.

“Babe,” he called.

She waved a hand at him, not tearing her eyes from the screen.

“Shh!” she hissed, sniffled, then wailed, “Oh, Tom!”

Fuck, she was cute.

And with that cute right there, sitting next to him, weeping for some fictional people who never fucking existed, High decided he’d find out what Tack was talking about at the meeting tomorrow morning.

Right then, he was going to be with his girl.

So he reached out a hand, caught her at her neck, and pulled her to him as he slouched deeper into the corner of her couch.

She adjusted immediately, curling into him as she curled her legs up beside her on the seat.

“You do know we’re watchin’ somethin’ else after this,” he told her, to which he felt her body go solid.

She then barked, “Xbox, pause.” The show paused and she lifted up and twisted to him.

“We are not.”

“Millie, you’re bawlin’ your eyes out. This program sucks.”

“It’s brilliant,” she declared.

“You’re bawlin’ your eyes out,” he repeated.

“The hallmark of good writing,” she returned.

He stared at her, mouth twitching.

He didn’t forget. Not any of it. Not any of her.

Including the fact that if she had a choice between a comedy or a drama or something that would send her over the edge and have her sobbing uncontrollably, she’d always pick the last.

Shit, he’d sat through Steel Magnolias three times and Terms of Endearment four. The bitches in those movies died seven times collectively and Millie blubbered each time like it was the first time she saw it and she didn’t see it coming.

And he’d sat through that because she snuggled deep when he did.

“Whatever,” he muttered as his cue he was giving in.

“Can I go back to Downton Abbey now?” she asked.

“Have at it,” he invited.

She grinned at him and he studied her, thinking he had not been wrong with what he threw in her face weeks ago.

His girl was the prettiest crier ever.

However, he liked this best of all, her grinning at him with wet cheeks because she got her way and that was because he gave it to her.

So she turned to the TV, called, “Xbox, play.” The action started again and he pulled her deeper into him.

She snuggled even closer.

Then High watched a show he gave not that first shit about.

And he decided he liked it.

Because Millie did.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Folded in the Arms of Chaos

Millie

MY ALARM CLOCK went off, and I untangled myself from Logan just enough to reach out a hand to hit snooze as Logan muttered, “Jesus, what the fuck is that?”

I was too sleepy to laugh out loud but I still found that hilarious.

When my man was a recruit for the Club, he had duties that he was assigned, so he was up and at them even before I had to get up to go to school.

After he’d been initiated, when any duties he was assigned happened at night, he hated the alarm clock that I still had to use to get up for school. Told me he hoped there was a time in our lives we could toss it.

I suspected since then and now, he’d tossed it.

I rolled back into him. “Alarm clock, Snooks. I gotta get up and face the day.”

I didn’t want to. Like yesterday, I wanted to stay tangled up in Logan in as many ways as I could.

But we’d gotten partly back to life yesterday.

At first, it had freaked me out, Logan leaving to get groceries, me facing my desk.

In the end, it was good because it was normal.

But mostly because we did what we had to do separately, then he came back.

Furthermore, this was it. We had to face the new us.

I had to work. Logan had to look after his girls and do... Logan things. We had to sort out life so we could go forward with it, together.

Unfortunately, starting now.

He lifted up, then collapsed back, wrapping me closer and muttering, “It’s fuckin’ five forty-five.”

“I have a lot to catch up on and I work at home, essentially. But I always hit my desk like I’m going to work because it puts you in the right mind-set and you never know what’s going to happen. So I have a lot of prep work to do before I go to the office.”

He rolled into me, stating, “You can start later.”

I slid my hands to his shoulders and held firm there as I replied, “By prep work, I mean breakfast. Shower. Full makeup. The hair shebang. That kinda thing. And that kinda thing takes time.”

His lips hit the hinge of my jaw, slid down, where he murmured, “You can start later.”

I had felt warm. I had felt snuggly.

Now I felt tingles.

So I decided that I’d take breakfast to my desk. I’d also just blow out the top of my hair and let the rest air dry, then put it up in a ponytail.

That would give me time.

And if it wasn’t enough, I’d find other things to cut out.

So I slid my arms around his shoulders and dipped my chin to communicate what I wanted.

Logan gave it to me, lifting his head and taking my mouth with his own.

And it was on.

Eight minutes into it, the alarm sounded.

Logan reached out, grabbed hold of the clock, gave it a vicious yank, ignored my surprised, irritated gasp, and tossed the clock to the floor.

“Logan!” I snapped.

He didn’t reply.

He kissed me.

Okay.

Well.

Whatever.

I could plug it in again later (if it still worked).

Right then, I planted a foot in the bed, rolled my man, and went at him.

In the end, it was worth air-dried hair.

Absolutely.

*  *  *

I sat at my desk in a russet tweed pencil skirt, a wheat-colored cashmere turtleneck, and spike-heeled, glossy, dark brown boots, and I turned from my computer to reach out for my mug of coffee.

I did this grinning uncontrollably.

I was grinning not because I had less email to cope with than expected since I’d mostly stayed on top of that in Paris. I was also not doing it because Claire had dealt with any mail that needed immediate attention, so all the rest took little time to finish sorting through. Nor was I doing it because I had very few phone calls to return.

I did it because getting back to life with Logan had perks I wasn’t expecting.

These included me putting on makeup and doing my hair, then discovering while I did that that he’d shoveled what was left of the melting snow in the courtyard so I could walk to my office in my fancy boots without ruining them, slipping and falling, or having to delay putting them on so I could tug on my Wellies and shovel it myself.

He also went to my studio, turned up the heat, and started a pot of coffee so it was toasty warm and I had caffeine at the ready when I finally made it to my desk, unlike my old normal when I’d freeze for the first half hour and be delayed in getting to work in order to make coffee.

Sure, the coffee bit only saved me five minutes.

But it saved me five minutes.

More, I got to stand at my back door making out with Logan before I hit my desk and he went to his truck to go off and face his day.

We did this not only kissing but also making plans.

He was going to ask a brother to help him get my car back to me. He was also going to be picking up his girls from school, hanging with them after, taking them to dinner, but he was coming back to me when he was done.

So he’d see me when he brought back my car.

And I’d see him when he came back after dinner.

Then I’d have him. I’d sleep with him again. I’d wake up with him. I’d more than likely make love with him.

Rinse with sleep.

Then repeat.

Hopefully forever.

That did not suck.

So I was grinning.

Oh yes, I was grinning.

I took a sip of coffee, put the mug back, and grabbed the phone on my desk to do what was next up on my to-do list.

I had a meeting with Claire that afternoon to debrief on what transpired while I was gone and plan what was happening in the future. I also needed to share with her I wasn’t selling out and leaving.

I’d been able to chat a bit with Dottie the day before about the things she’d helped out with while I was away.

Now I needed to phone Justine.

So I did that, put the receiver to my ear, then took it away when she answered with, “Oh my God! I cannot believe it! Logan’s back!”

My cell might be sitting in my purse in my SUV, hopefully still working after the Denver deep freeze since I’d left it there after my mad dash to Chaos that changed the course of my life.

But Dottie’s obviously still was with her and she’d been using it.

I put the receiver back to my ear and replied, “Yeah, babe.”

“I cannot believe it!” she shrieked again.

I grinned again, this time for different reasons.

Kellie and Justine, like Dottie and my parents, had loved Logan.

Kellie and Justine, unlike Dottie, did not know why I’d done what I’d done. That was for me and the only one I trusted it with, the only one I could handle sharing it with... my sister.

So they’d never gotten it.

What they’d done, like any true friend should do, was buried their concern and disagreement with my actions and stood beside me.

“Are you totally, insanely, madly happy?” she asked.

I was terrified.

But I was also totally, insanely, and madly happy.

“Yes,” I told her.

“I wanna hear it all, every second, but I’m at the Hubbles, so we’re so totally getting together for lunch, soon. I have Veronica checking her calendar. Dot’s in. Kellie’s so in. I just gotta call Claire.”

I wanted to have lunch with them, share the goodness.

No, actually, I wanted to have cocktails with them, have a chance to wear my LBD and share the goodness.

But something she said caught my attention.

Justine had a part-time job so they didn’t have to leave their son at a day care for too long and instead he was home with one of his moms. Therefore, with Rafferty in tow, she’d taken care of things for me that Claire or Dot couldn’t handle, and things she liked most doing, these being recon on holiday houses and offices for design. I had thirteen emails from her with a variety of pictures for that purpose.

But she knew I was coming back. She knew she was off-duty.

And the Hubbles were my Christmas clients.

“Uh, Jus, what are you doing at the Hubbles?” I asked.

“They had a crisis. The wreaths you want to put on their windows, they likey. Like, a lot. But they don’t have an outlet outside to plug them in. No way are they doing battery lights. And they’re worried about the cords having to come in through the windows. So there’s an electrician here today and they wanted one of us here to help decide where the outside outlets were going to go for the extravaganza you planned for them. Dot told me you were probably going to be out of touch so, since I’ve been working with them, Claire decided I should be here.”

There was a lot to go over with that, so I started with the least surprising considering the Hubbles were Christmas fiends, they’d been my clients for six years, and they’d demanded their décor, inside and out, get more elaborate with each passing year.

“The Hubbles are actually having outlets installed for their decorations?” I asked.

“Totally,” she answered. “And I told them the outlet should go between the door and the first window. We can string together the three window wreaths and come the other way from the door wreath and use that outlet. The balcony swags and lights are good, there’s an outlet up there. But I think another one under the eaves at the back side of the house—”

I interrupted her. “Justine.”

“Right here.”

“Babe,” I started softly. “It means a lot you kicked in. Like I explained, I’m going to pay you and I have this magnificent present for you from Paris. But, girl, I’m back. Things got extreme with Logan but in the end in a good way. That’s... I’ll explain later... but it’s good. Take care of Raff. Get back to your life. You don’t have to take my back anymore.”

“But I dig this.”

I stared at my desk.

“And the Hubbles are a hoot. The Mays are plum loco and totally hilarious. It’s not even Thanksgiving and it feels like Christmas, which is awesome. And that Barbie woman who we’re doing the sweet sixteen party for her daughter is super nice. She loves all my ideas. I don’t get to be creative working as a part-time PA for an accountant. Hell, I don’t even get to be creative with Raff since he can barely talk; he certainly can’t use a crayon.”

I heard her words.

But I kept staring at my desk.

I worked a lot because I didn’t have a life.

I also worked a lot because I liked my work.

Further, I worked a lot because I wanted to succeed. I’d been a driven person since I was a little kid. I won the spelling bee (three times). I’d been the freshman class secretary, the sophomore class vice president, and class president my junior and senior years.

There was more.

I did it quiet but I did it because it was something I did. It was just who I was.

Last, I worked because I liked to make money. It was only me (before a few days ago) who would enjoy my beautiful home, my beautiful clothes, but they were both things that gave me some of the little happiness I had.

And I had this happiness because I’d worked for it. I’d earned it. Me. Only me. All me.

Not to mention, in the times that were low, which were a fair few, I had visions (and thus started making plans years ago) of having a retirement where I did all the things I didn’t do along the way. Have fabulous parties. Travel. Take art classes or whatever struck my fancy to spend my time relaxing, looking after me, having fun.

But the last few days had happened.

My life had changed.

I had money in the bank. Money in savings. A healthy retirement account. A healthier investment portfolio. And I’d taken a fifteen-year mortgage on my house, which meant it’d be paid off in only four years. This last didn’t even take into consideration how much equity I had in the house, not only because of property values increasing but also because of all the work I’d done to it.

And I had a thriving business. At least once a month, but usually more often, I had to refer clients to other planners because Claire and I couldn’t take on more work. That year I’d also had to refuse two new Christmas clients because I just didn’t have the time. Not with only me and Claire doing the work.

However, if I expanded my human resources, I might be able to take on a few more clients to increase revenue and shift some of my work to Claire, who so could do it and would so love the raise she’d get with it. She then could shift some of her work to a new employee.

Justine worked twenty-five hours a week. She was smart. Loyal. Creative. Full of personality. Over the years she’d kicked in a variety of times just to help or for extra cash when I’d needed her for events. And I would absolutely not mind if Rafferty was with her when she worked, so she could save on day care.

She’d be perfect.

“Hellooooo,” she called in my ear. “Did I lose you?”

“I need to change my life,” I announced.

“No duh,” she replied. “You were on the road to recovery but now that Logan’s back, you gotta step that up, sistah. He’s low maintenance, as dudes go, but I don’t see him wiling away the hours in your awesome but very girlie pad, watching Easy Rider and waiting for you to come home after you make sure the DJ plays all the right songs at some chick’s sweet sixteen.”

My pad was very girlie.

And it was so not Logan.

Oh man.

I couldn’t think of that.

I had to stay on target.

“Babe, this is personal, but how much do you make at your job?”

“Sixteen an hour,” she answered instantly, then went on, “Which is ridiculous, but it’s the only place I could find that would do part-time and be cool when I had to take off to see to Raff because Ronnie can’t do that at her job.”

I did quick calculations in my head, the extra clients I could take on, the raise I’d need to offer Claire with giving her more responsibility.

I should pull up my accounts. Do it correctly. Make absolutely certain I could swing it, for me, for Claire, for Justine.

All I could think of was Logan.

“I’ll match your salary,” I stated, then went on insanely, “Or better it.”

My friend made no reply.

“Justine?” I called.

“Are you serious?” she breathed.

“I need to adjust my life,” I told her. “I need to make time for Logan. He has girls. I need to make time for them. I never like turning down jobs and it happens frequently. So yes. I’m serious.”

“That’d be so cool!” she cried. “Ronnie’s company covers our insurance, so no worries there. And, babe, love you, would love to have this opportunity, you know I have fun working with you, but gotta share that I’ve got three weeks of vacation, two personal days, three sick, and Ronnie has almost the same, so I wouldn’t want to lose any of that.”

Claire got three weeks of vacation.

Justine couldn’t start on the same level with that as Claire.

I’d up her personal days.

“I can do that,” I said.

“Holy crap,” she whispered.

She could say that again.

I needed to run some numbers.

But in the end, it didn’t matter.

Mental calculations told me any hit to my personal income would be minor, if it existed at all.

Money was good to have.

But Logan was better.

“This is... it’s... it’s awesome, Mill,” Justine said.

“I’m glad you think so,” I replied. “It meant a lot, you covering me while I had to go off and do my thing. But you’re also good at it. And it’d mean a lot to have you on the team.”

“I have to talk to Ronnie.”

She would. But Veronica wouldn’t say no. She loved her woman. She’d want her happy. And they weren’t losing anything out of the deal.

“You talk. You tell me. I’ll run some numbers to see what I can do to make it worth your while. And then we’ll chat.”

“It’ll be worth my while.”

“Let me run some numbers, babe,” I said softly.

It took a long moment for her to reply, “Love you, Millie.”

I drew in a deep breath.

“I’m happy you’re offering this to me,” she continued. “But I’m happier with why. I can’t wait to hear how it all went down with Logan. But you gotta know, official, I’m happy it went down, now for more reasons than one. The last time you had any joy, it was with him. I’m glad to know you’re not dicking around with getting that back.”

“Me too,” I whispered. “And me too again with the love you thing. You’re the best, Justine.”

I grinned again when she returned, “I so am.” My grin faded and my heart warmed when she finished, “You are too. Just hope Logan reminds you of that because I’ve told you, Dot has, Kellie has, Ronnie has, and you never got it. Logan gave that to you too. I hope he gives it back.”

“Okay, we have to stop this because I have a ton of work and I can’t do it crying. I also don’t have time to fix my makeup,” I warned.

“You’re such a freak. Babe, you have no appointments today. You’re sitting in a little house behind your big house. Who cares if your makeup is messed up?”

“I do,” I retorted.

“Such a freak,” she muttered.

“This is better,” I declared. “You being annoying. A lot better.”

“I give good annoying too.”

“Go... take care of the Hubbles,” I ordered. “But keep track of the time. I’ll find time to run numbers today and I’ll call you tonight with a proper offer. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. Later, babe. And, Millie?”

“Yeah?”

“Pleased as punch for you, sister.”

I drew in another breath.

She hung up.

I was grinning again when I put the phone back in its cradle.

I checked calling Justine off my to-do list, hit the next up, and was working on the one after that when I heard the growl of a truck in my drive.

I looked up, out the windows, and saw Logan’s truck.

I smiled.

He turned into the courtyard and I saw my SUV trailing him.

My smile got bigger.

I had my car back and Logan sorted that for me.

My smile started fading when the growl of the first two vehicles was joined by the roar of a number of bikes.

I stopped looking out my window in order to stare out of it when I saw Tack, Hop, Tabby’s dark-headed guy who’d come in with Tyra the day of my scene at Chaos, and Boz, all on bikes, with Big Petey bringing up the rear on his Harley trike.

“What on earth?” I breathed as my door flew open.

Logan was storming in, storming in, face full of thunder, eyes to me.

My back snapped straight and I vaguely noticed another young Chaos member with dark hair coming in behind him but the majority of my attention was focused on Logan.

“Follow me,” he grunted.

“I...” My eyes darted to the other man as I heard the roar of Harleys die in my courtyard.

“Follow me!” Logan barked.

I jumped in my seat and my eyes shot back to him.

When they did, I caught only his back since he was prowling out of my office, apparently feeling he could storm in to my place of business, bark at me, order me around, and I’d comply.

“High.” I heard it said outside, that one word meant to be both calming and cautionary, the voice saying it was Tack.

“You need to stay the fuck outta this,” Logan growled as I sat still in my chair and stared out the door. As I did, I saw Logan turn and clip, “Millie. Here.”

He didn’t wait for my response to him calling me like I was a dog.

He stalked away.

Something was happening. I didn’t know what it was. I did know it was something big.

And I didn’t give a fuck.

No man stormed into my office, barked orders at me, then called me to him like I was his pet, a naughty one, and stalked away expecting me to obey his commands without question.

No man.

Hell, no woman.

No way.

No how.

The problem with that was I had Chaos brothers congregating outside my office door, the young one that followed Logan still inside, and I couldn’t share that shit did not happen, no way, no how while sitting in my chair while Logan was somewhere else.

So I got up quickly, my chair flying back, and I did my own fucking storming.

I did that passing the young guy, marching through the bevy of brothers hanging outside the door, and I caught sight of Logan at the back door to my house.

I headed right there.

He opened the door and went in.

I hurried my step and followed him in.

He was about to close the door when a hand landed on it and we were both forced back so Chaos could file in.

And they did.

All seven of them.

I didn’t have a mind to them.

I had a mind to Logan.

My voice was low and trembling with fury when I declared, “You did not just call me to you like I was a dog.”

He slammed the door, lifted a hand, one finger stabbing in the direction of the wall behind the door.

I looked that way and blinked at a security system box lit up there that wasn’t there before I left for Paris, and due to all the things that had gone down, I had not noticed when I got back.

“You leave, you arm this,” Logan snarled. “Four, nine, one, three, red button.” He jabbed at the red button under the keypad. “You come home, you shut the fuckin’ door, lock the fucker, and unarm it, four, nine, one, three, then you fuckin’ rearm it, immediately, four... nine... one... three.”