THE BRAVO BOYS - SNAKE EATER [book three]

Chapter THIRTEEN

Shelby Quinn

It's late afternoon as I take the key from his still shaking hand as he struggles to work the lock and surprisingly he allows me to help him without any argument, stepping aside as I jiggle the knob and push at the door so it swings open.. I move out of the way to let him in and Logan staggers silently into the apartment, brushing past me to collapse on the sofa..

Lingering awkwardly in the doorway I shuffle on my feet, unsure about what to do.. I'm not particularly good at offering comfort, but I don't feel like leaving him alone is the right course of action when he is so vulnerable.. To see him suffering, this intimidatingly intelligent man who usually holds himself with such confidence, now listless and defeated by his own mind, it's almost painful.. And if I were honest with myself, it's familiar.. I have been exactly where he is.. "Is there anything you need before I go, Logan?"

He waves a haphazard hand towards the kitchen, seemingly neither here nor there as he invites me in.. "Wouldn't say no to a couple shots'a whiskey if you wanna join.."

"Are you sure day drinking would be setting the best example for Dallas?" I tiptoe timidly into the neat confines of the sizable midtown apartment and push the door closed behind me.. Glancing around at the modest furnishings and copious amounts of technology, I take in my surroundings with intense intrigue.. There are screens everywhere, tablets, cell phones and a desk set up at the far wall of the living room, much like the computers in his workplace, as if he does nothing but work all day to come home and work some more.. Yet another familiar pang of self doubt comes sneaking in to sabotage me..

He is a workaholic.. Just like me..

Aside from all the tech and unlike his cluttered office, Logan's place is nice, neat and clean and tastefully decorated in a contemporary style, but not at all lavish.. I don't know why I had expected him to live differently, maybe because he is a career criminal I had assumed he'd be spending his ill gotten gains on himself, or maybe those well pressed suits I've become used to seeing him in gave me the wrong impression, but for some reason I had assumed him to be a man of far more expensive taste..

"Tex isn't here, she's staying at Sheridan's tonight.." He mutters distractedly.. "Thank god, poor girl's been through enough shit.."

Making my way to the kitchen I quickly spy a shelf of liquor and make fast work of selecting a half full bottle of Tennessee Whiskey before opening the cupboard above it to retrieve a couple of glasses.. Then I pad back through the living room to find The Hacker staring absentmindedly at the wall, barely blinking..

"So, you wanna tell me what exactly happened back there?" I set the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table, folding my arms uncomfortably across my chest.. "You kinda freaked out on me, Lone Star.."

"He didn't recognise me.." Logan breathes in disbelief.. "Wyatt Bennings ruined my fucking life, and he doesn't even remember it.."

"Remember what?" I slink a step closer but Logan's focus remains fixated on the wall..

"He killed Dixie.. He killed her and her husband.." Finally he peels his empty, honey-eyed stare from the uninteresting white paint to look over at me.. "My sister is dead because she stole secrets from Blackstar.." Miserable pools of rich amethyst draw me in, pulling me closer and I sink down beside him in almost a hypnotised state, terrified by what he is saying yet desperate to hear him out.. "I don't want that to happen to you, Shelby.." Logan leans forward, uncapping the bottle to pour himself four fingers and an equal amount for me, sliding the cup across the tabletop towards me..

"You honestly believe Blackstar was responsible for what happened to your family?" I watch as he swallows half his glass before I reach out for mine..

"They are! And Dixie was gonna prove it.." He growls determinedly.. "Who do you think supplied those guns to the COD? Fed's never would have taken an interest in the church if The prophet weren't stockpiling like a goddamn doomsdayer.. The prophet took every cent his congregation had and gave it all to Wyatt fucking Bennings.. People lost their homes.. Their life savings.. All for steel and stocks.."