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Izzy giggled. Actually giggled like a schoolgirl instead of a badass who could take a man out with the tail of that wicked braid she wore like a uniform. “Don’t take any shit from him, Chloe,” she called out as she slipped out of the room.
The two disappeared, leaving Chloe alone with Logan—er, Rocket—who she hadn’t laid eyes on in days.
When he reached her, he lifted one of the gloved hands and moved as if to help her remove it. “To the club, I’m Rocket. You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. Despite her anger and the oppressive feeling of betrayal, her traitorous body still reacted to him as it always did. With lust and need. But they had shit to sort out and she couldn’t afford the distraction of his hands on her.
He ran a finger down her arm leaving a trail of goosebumps. “When we’re in bed, I’m Logan.” His voice was smooth, warm liquid drizzling down her spine. For a split-second, her brain short-circuited before his words registered.
When they were in bed?
When they were in bed together?
The nerve of this asshole.
He’d lied to her. Tricked her. Deceived her. The one man she’d been beginning to trust, beginning to let her guard down around, took that gift of her trust and tossed it in the trash. He was out of his freakin’ mind if he thought she’d be crawling into bed with him anytime soon.
Or ever.
Suddenly, her energy returned in the form of rage. It breathed new life into her tired limbs, chasing away the soreness, and giving her the need to dominate. The need for that high she’d been riding moments ago.
“Why are you here?” she asked, rising onto her toes and getting right in his face. “I said I didn’t want to see you.”
He remained calm though his eyes widened at her near snarl. “We have shit to work out.”
Chloe laughed. “Shit to work out? Oh, you mean how you lied to me? Let me believe you were someone else. A harmless business owner.”
His Adam’s Apple rose and fell as he swallowed. “That’s part of it.”
“Or maybe you wanna talk about how I fucked you, what? Six? Seven times? Giving you more trust each time, and yet you still lied your ass off about who you were!” She was breathing heavy now, shouting the words at him. “You’re no better than Lefty!” she yelled, knowing the words were both cruel and untrue as they left her mouth, but she was too far gone to take them back.
Logan however wasn’t as inclined to let it roll off his back. He surged forward, towering over her, using his size to show her who really had the upper hand here. “You have no fucking idea the shit I’m capable of. The shit I’ve done.” His nostrils flared and she was surprised he didn’t breathe fire in that moment. “You’d have nightmares for a month if you knew. But don’t you ever compare me to that motherfucking piece of shit.”
She should have been terrified, would have been were it anyone else but him, but she wasn’t. Because she trusted him. Despite it all she trusted him, and she believed everything he’d said to her a few days ago. She believed Lefty was an enemy of his club. Believed the Handlers didn’t have anything to do with her kidnapping and rape. And she knew deep in her heart, he suffered over what she experienced. She may be a damn fool, but she wasn’t afraid of the growling man who loomed over her.
And that infuriated her even more. Because she should hate him for lying to her. Those deceptions should have killed her faith in him. Her attraction to him.
But they didn’t. He cared and wanted to protect her. Which made the deceit cut that much deeper.
And that made her angry.
Irrationally, pull-out-her-hair, howl-at-the-moon, blood-rushing-in-her-ears angry. With her two gloved hands, she shoved him out of her personal space. A small surge of power ran through her.
Logan smirked, his blue eyes sparkling. “You wanna hit me?”
Shoulders bunched, fists itching to do exactly as he asked, she took a step back. “Get out.”
He shook his head. “Do your worst.”
“Logan, get out.”
He shook his head again.
“Log—”
He stepped forward. “No.” There was a taunt to the calm word. An unspoken come and get me.
“Get out!” she cried as she charged forward, fists raised. Exactly as she’d done yesterday when she let loose on Jigsaw’s punch mitts, she lost her shit on Logan.
On Rocket.
Over and over her gloved fists connected with him as he stood there absorbing the blows without a word or without fighting back.
Bam! Shot to the shoulder.
Bam! Jab to the gut.
Bam! A hook to his upper arm.
Again and again, she wailed on the man who’d given her the first hint of pleasure she’d experienced since being attacked, only to take it away with his untruths.
