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An image of my father’s murdered corpse flits through my mind, reminding me that we all have our fucking demons, but I shove it down.
We’ve all been through our shit, and part of the reason the three of us work so well together as the Reapers’ inner circle is that we give each other space to work that out in our own ways and time.
There was a period a little over a year ago when shit went seriously south with Logan. Not sure what the catalyst was, but for a while there, it seemed like he might lose the battle against his particular demons.
I was here, but he shut me out, and I’m pretty sure only Maddoc saved him from going somewhere so dark we wouldn’t have been able to get him back.
Those two have a connection that goes way back to when Logan was living on the streets, doing some small-time jobs for Maddoc’s dad, hustling just to put food in his mouth because there wasn’t anyone else looking out for him.
They were just kids, but Madd was still Madd, so of course he decided he wasn’t gonna let Logan become disposable. They’ve been tight ever since. But even though Logan and I may not have the same history, he’s just as much my brother now as he is Maddoc’s. So if Madd is distracted at the moment, it’s up to me to pull Logan out of the dark pit I see brewing behind his blank-eyed stare.
“Hey. You eaten yet?” I ask, grabbing another apple out of the bowl and tossing it to Logan before crunching into mine again.
He still looks like he’s not all the way here with us, but I feel a little better when he snatches it out of the air with the kind of insane automatic reflexes that make him so fucking deadly to our enemies.
“Yes,” he says curtly, carefully placing the apple down on the counter and then ignoring it like I knew he would.
Fair enough. Logan isn’t just a creature of habit, he’s got an almost manic dedication to certain orderly routines, and one of those is the boring-ass egg white and spinach omelet he eats every morning with whole grain toast. That’sallhe’ll eat for breakfast, but that’s fine. The apple isn’t the fucking point. Logan just needs some human contact sometimes. Some “increased interference” of the brotherly variety when he starts spiraling too deep into that complex headspace of his.
Maddoc is still frowning down at his phone, no doubt getting an update from Isaac or one of our other runners about the West Point activities we’ve been keeping an eye on.
So I pluck out another apple from the bowl and throw it at Logan’s head.
He stops it right in front of his face in a CGI-worthy superhero move that has me grinning, and a glimmer of life finally appears in his eyes as he glares at me.
“I’m not hungry.”
I take another bite of my apple. “You sure about that? They’re good. And you might need the energy to help us figure out our next moves against West Point.”
“I won’t.”
“What, you won’t help?” I goad him. “Damn. I thought you had our backs, brother.”
Logan doesn’t laugh because he’s Logan, but I definitely consider the way his lips tighten into a thin white line of irritation a total win.
“I won’t need additional energy from complex carbohydrates,” he enunciates carefully, proving beyond a doubt that I’m annoying him… which means he’s not stuck quite so deep in his head anymore.
Mission accomplished.
“Your loss.” I shrug, finishing the last bite of my apple and throwing the core into the garbage disposal. Then I pivot, giving him a break and getting back to business now that he’s back with us a little. “So how are we gonna handle West Point tonight?”
Logan parses out a few cryptic logistical details and Maddoc finally ends the text exchange with Isaac and updates us with some new intel.
The three of us get so caught up hashing out plans that I don’t notice Riley come into the kitchen until Maddoc stops mid-sentence, a flash of heat passing through his eyes as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Fuck, princess,” I say with an appreciative smile when I turn and find her in his line of sight. “That’s a good look on you.”
In other words, naked… other than the towel she’s got wrapped around herself.
She glares at me, then lifts her chin and looks at Maddoc. “I need clothes.”
Not as far as I’m concerned, but guess I don’t get a vote.
I grin and lean back, shoving my hands into my pockets and preparing to enjoy the show. She’s fucking ballsy as all hell, and it’s the best entertainment we’ve had around here in a while… but I’m pretty sure I’m theonlyone who’s enjoying it based on the way Logan has gone stone-faced again and Maddoc has carefully wiped away the lust I saw in his expression when she walked in so that his features now look just as blank as Logan’s.
Not that I’m not surprised. Both of my brothers have their reasons for distrusting women, and I’m not gonna say they’re wrong, even though my own instincts tell me Riley’s not a danger to us.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maddoc asks her in a clipped voice meant to intimidate.
