Logan (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel) Page 2

  Outside in the warm night air, I march us out of sight of the jail until it can no longer be smelled, and then finally lower Brayden down to a bench under a streetlight to give her whatever snacks and water I have left in my shoulder bag.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as I look down at her face that’s mostly hidden by her tangled brown hair. She shakes her head; and when she bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, my heart breaks right down the center. . The cramped, pain in the ass flight and my exhaustion is long forgotten after I see how bad off she is.

  She looks weak and fragile like she hasn’t had a decent meal in several days, and her lips are chapped and peeling likely from dehydration.

  It looks like the girl has been through hell and back while her father was more concerned about some goddamn golf fundraiser.

  Not sure what else to do for her at this second, I hold her to me even closer because she just looks like she needs to be comforted by some damn body. Brayden grips my jacket tighter in her fists, and I hear her begin to sob into the material, causing my entire chest to ache.

  “Hey, you’re gonna be fine now,” I assure her. “I’m gonna get you to the hotel to rest soon, I promise.”

  I assume Brayden was staying somewhere around here with her friends before she was locked up, so I’ll need to figure out where that was later to try and get her luggage, if the hotel still has it. Right now, though, I just want to let her get a little something in her stomach, so I can get us off the streets that are crowded with college kids heading to the bars and clubs and get her cleaned up.

  “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Y-yes,” she replies hoarsely with a nod. I don’t know how long she’s been there, but I was only waiting in the police station for an hour or so before they took me to see her, and that was way too long for my sanity.

  Letting her go so that she’s leaning back against the bench seat, I place my shoulder bag between us to dig through it.

  “Here,” I say as I find and pull out a bottle of water. Twisting off the top, I hand it to Brayden, who takes it from my hand with her shaky one. “Slow sips at first,” I tell her because I don’t want her to pour it into her empty stomach and then get sick.

  With a nod, her sea-green, red-rimmed eyes finally lift to mine from underneath her messy hair. As she starts to drink the water, those stunning eyes close as she savors it like it’s the best beverage in the world. I enjoy the fact that I’m the one who was able to provide such a simple thing for her.

  Pulling my gaze away from her enjoying the water, I dig through my bag. And when I hear the crinkling wrapper of a granola bar, I pull it out.

  “It’s not much...” I say when I offer it to her.

  “It’s perfect,” she says as she snatches it from me, rips into the wrapper and takes a bite. Again, her eyes drift closed, but this time she actually releases a low moan. “God, that’s good.”

  “We’ll find you more to eat and drink when we get to the hotel,” I say, wishing I had more for her now. I could leave her here to go get something but would rather not chance something happening to her. And Brayden is definitely not in any state to take into a restaurant with her red dress ruined.

  After she takes her last bite of the bar and then washes it down, Brayden’s eyes squint at me for a few silent seconds before she says, “Logan?”

  Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself yet, have I?

  “Ah, yeah. I’m Logan Davenport. I work for your father…”

  “I know,” she responds with a nod.

  “Oh,” I reply since I’m not exactly sure how she knows. I’ve never seen her in the office.

  “Thank you for whatever you did back there to get me out.”

  “I wish I could say it was my lawyering skills, but really I just gave the jailer a thousand bucks to see you and then hightailed it out of there.”

  Smiling, or attempting to until she cringes in pain and licks her dry lips, she says, “Either way, you’re still my hero.”

  Her words do something to me that I’ve never felt before. My gut clenches and my chest swells with pride. It feels amazing to help someone who needed it, even though I’m still not sure how she ended up in jail, if it was an actual offense or if she just looked like an American girl with money.

  When I first arrived in Cancun, after a nine-hour flight with a two-hour layover in Atlanta, I attempted to ask the jailer: ¿Por qué fue arrestada la niña?

  The old man simply waggled his thick, dark eyebrows that matched his mustache and thrust his hips lewdly in demonstration, which was just a wonderful sight to see, let me tell you.

  Anyway, it doesn’t matter what Brayden did or didn’t do. She’s out now. Thank fuck. And of course, I feel guilty about bitching when Page called and asked me to get on a plane and come down here. What if I hadn’t? Or what if I had waited another day? Brayden is pitiful now. In a day, who knows what could’ve happened to her.

  “Are you ready to get to the hotel?” I ask since she’s finished eating.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I’m so…gross,” she says as she glances down at her dirty dress.

  “Hey, it’s not your fault. I bet you’ll feel a lot better after a nice, warm bath.”

  “And I bet you’ll be able to breathe again once I stop gaging you,” she replies with a small smile, trying to make light of the situation.

  “I’m just worried about you,” I tell her honestly, and it sounds almost too honest. Clearing my throat, I get to my feet and toss my bag over my shoulder. “Ready?”

  Chapter Four

  Brayden

  “Sure,” I reply to Logan when he asks if I’m ready to go to the hotel. Pushing aside the small panic attack when imagining him leaving me alone in a hotel room in this city, I hand him my trash to throw away in the nearby can. Then, I brace my hands on the bench and push myself up to my feet. When my knees start to give out, I grab hold of the armrest to keep myself upright.

  “Shit, sorry,” Logan mutters when he lurches forward and wraps his arms around my waist to pull me flush against his body. Letting go of the bench, I grip his broad shoulders instead. I know I smell awful; I can definitely smell myself. But Logan doesn’t even wrinkle his nose or bat an eye as he holds me close. “I forgot that you’re too weak to walk.”

  “No, I can manage,” I assure him, but I’m not ready for him to let me go yet. He’s nice and sturdy and warm. “Just give me a second. My legs are like jelly,” I explain at least a partial truth. My limbs don’t seem to want to hold my weight after I went so long without using them. “What day is today?” I ask Logan.

  “Ah, it’s Thursday.”

  “Thursday? Wow,” I mutter. “So I was only in there for three nights. It felt like more.”

  “I’m sure it did.” he agrees. “You’re a tough girl to endure that place. I was ready to flee after an hour.”

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” I reply.

  Logan stares down at me intensely with his gorgeous blue eyes like he wants to ask me something, probably what the hell I did to get thrown in jail.

  “I think I’m okay to walk now,” I tell him as I slip my palms down to his hard chest and try to push him away.

  Without a word, he bends down and then grabs the back of my legs to sweep them out from under me and into his arms, making me gasp in surprise.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” I say after I catch my breath. “I just needed a minute to get the circulation going again.” Contrary to my words, my arms wind around his neck to stay right where I am.

  “I’ve got you,” Logan replies.

  “Yeah, you do,” I agree as he strides off toward the sidewalk where cars are rushing by and groups of people are wandering around, laughing boisterously and talking to their friends. But at this moment, it feels like it’s just Logan and me. And I feel safe with him, for the first time in as long as I can remember.

  Logan traveled thousands of miles to save me, and now he’s going to take care of me. I f
eel so gracious toward him that there aren’t enough thank yous in the world for me to give him. And right now, it’s like he knows that I need to be held more than I need food or water or a warm bed. I need the comfort of another human being. That’s why I could stay in his arms like this for hours. Although, it would be nice to get a bath first to make it more pleasant for him.

  Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for Logan to flag down a cab. After opening the door, he places me on the seat and slides in right behind me, keeping an arm around my shoulders, so I snuggle against him as he shuts the door and gives the cab driver the hotel’s address.

  “Agua?” Logan asks the cab driver, who hands a bottle of water over his shoulder. Logan snatches it from him with a gracias. Placing it between his thighs, he unscrews the lid with his one free hand to keep the other around me. As soon as it’s open, I reach for the bottle and pull it free, fairly certain that I just rubbed it against his cock.

  “Thanks,” I tell him before I start to guzzle it down much faster than the first bottle.

  After clearing his throat and squirming while giving the top of his pants leg a tug, Logan says, “Least I could do,” while squeezing my shoulder.

  …

  Logan

  Baseball.

  Toppings on a pizza.

  The Constitutional Amendments.

  I shouldn’t have to force my mind to think about these random, boring things; but when a woman grabs an item directly from your crotch and then puts it in her mouth, well, I’m only a man, not a saint. Inappropriate thoughts enter my mind when they shouldn’t. It happens. In a few minutes, probably by the time we pull up at the hotel, I’ll have my body’s natural reaction under my control again.

  But then I make the mistake of glancing down and see how far the hem of Brayden’s short party dress has slipped up her thighs and, boom, all of my hard work washes right down the drain. The damn outfit is practically indecent, and I really like it. Much more than I should.

  When Brayden shivers against me, though, I’m able to push all the perverted thoughts away.

  “Are you cold?” I ask. Without waiting for her response, I start pulling my arms out of my suit jacket. Why didn’t I think of offering it to her before? “Here,” I say, holding it open for Brayden to slip one arm in. And then, when she leans up, I pull it around her back so that she can slide her other arm inside.

  Inhaling deeply, she says, “Thanks, Logan.”

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” I tell her. The words are gruffer than I intended, because I feel bad about letting my dirty mind think of her in ways I shouldn’t, even if it was only for a few quick minutes.

  “Sure I do,” Brayden says as she curls up against my side again and clutches my arm with both hands. “I owe you big time.”

  Is it just me or did her voice make that last sentence sound huskier, like she’s offering…

  “No, you don’t,” I quickly assure her.

  “Yes, I do,” she counters, her warm breath fluttering over the sensitive skin of my neck. “I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you.”

  My dick swells with his own ideas; and if I were alone, I would definitely punch him.

  Luckily, the cab finally pulls up outside the Omni Hotel. I climb out and subtly adjust myself before turning around to offer Brayden my hand. She takes it and slides across the seat, hiking her dress up even higher. I try to forget the image as I hand the driver my card to pay him.

  “Are you able to walk? Hopefully, it won’t take long to get checked in since I made reservations earlier,” I tell her once I have my receipt.

  “Yeah, of course. My legs feel stronger,” she says. “Just go slow.”

  “Absolutely,” I agree.

  Brayden continues to lean against me to steady herself, so I place my hand on the small of her back, not because it’s necessary, but because I like touching her.

  Unfortunately, it takes a while to get checked in. Even at this time of night, there’s a line.

  “Um, Logan,” Brayden asks softly while we wait.

  “Yeah?” I ask, assuming she’s going to say she’ll sit on the bench to wait instead of standing here when she’s already weak. Instead, though, she says, “I don’t really want to be by myself, alone in a room in this town.”

  “Oh,” I mutter in understanding. I didn’t even think about reserving two rooms earlier today when I was in such a rush. And now that we’re here, I’m sort of relieved that Brayden wants to share a room. Otherwise, I would worry about her all night.

  “If that’s a problem, then maybe we could do an adjoining one, just so long as you’re not, like, on a different floor –”

  “No, it’s fine,” I tell her. “In fact, I only reserved one, but I’m fairly certain it has two beds.”

  “Good,” Brayden says with a sigh of relief.

  After we get to the counter, the young hotel clerk looks at Brayden with her nose scrunched in repugnance, which pisses me off. Sure, the girl looks rough, but she’s been through a hell we can’t even imagine, I want to say in Brayden’s defense, but I keep silent.

  “Here’s your keycard for the one-bedroom villa,” the snotty clerk says.

  “Wait, a villa?” I ask.

  “All of the rooms are booked up, so you’ve been assigned the villa. I assure you they’re much nicer and more private,” the woman says as she gives a pointed look at Brayden.

  “But it’s only one bed?” I repeat.

  “Yes. There’s also a pullout sofa…”

  “That’ll work,” I agree, volunteering to sleep on the pullout for the night even though those beds are notoriously awful for sleeping.

  After I sign some paperwork, the clerk gives us the directions on how to find the villas that run along the shoreline, and then I take the keycard.

  “You’re not sleeping on the pullout,” Brayden says as soon as we step outside and begin the hunt for our villa.

  “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Those things suck,” she replies.

  “Then I’ll sleep on the sofa. I bet it’ll be long enough for me to stretch out on.”

  We thankfully don’t have to walk far before we reach our villa.

  As soon as we step inside and flip on the light, Brayden says, “There’s no way you can fit on that couch.”

  She’s right. If I curled up into a ball, then maybe.

  “We’ll figure it out later,” I say since I don’t want her to worry about my comfort after all that she’s been through.

  Tonight, I just want to give Brayden everything she needs to relax and put the memories of the last few days of hell behind her.

  Chapter Five

  Brayden

  The beachfront villa is nice. There’s just one problem — it’s so…romantic, like a quiet getaway I could imagine spending my honeymoon in with the man I marry. Standing in it with a man who I’ve known for a while but who has just spoken to me for the first time tonight is a little awkward.

  I’m pretty sure Logan feels the same since he hasn’t moved a step after closing and locking the door behind us as we both take in the small living room and kitchen. Off to the left is a set of narrow stairs that lead to what must be the loft bedroom and bathroom. Straight ahead I can see that the sliding glass doors lead to a private patio that faces the ocean.

  “Thanks for sharing a room,” I tell Logan. “I was alone for days and had no idea if or when I would be released. Being alone again so soon would send me right back there…” Honestly, I was starting to give up hope for anyone to come for me when Logan showed up.

  “No problem. Sure, it’s…a little small, but we can make do.”

  “Right,” I agree. He could take the bed and make me a pallet on the floor, and it would be amazing compared to trying to sleep sitting up on hard cement.

  Still, neither of us moves, and my legs aren’t going to hold up my weight much longer.

  “So, do you, um, wanna go take a bath?” Logan asks, sounding hopeful.
My cheeks warm from either the embarrassment of remembering how disgusting I am or from my ridiculous thought that he asked the question in such a way that, at first, it sounded to me like he was coming with me. Probably both are explanations for why I’m blushing.

  “Yes,” I answer as I start toward the stairs.

  “Those stairs are pretty steep. I would hate for you to fall down them,” Logan says.

  “I can make do,” I say, not wanting him to be so close to me again until I’m at least clean. Holding on to the rail, I lift one foot and then the other, and it’s like climbing Mount Everest. Okay, so maybe I can crawl them.

  “Right,” Logan says before he sweeps my legs out from underneath me yet again and carries me up like I weigh nothing.

  He finds the bathroom, which is the only room in the place with a door and sits me down on the closed toilet lid.

  Logan even reaches into the tub and starts running the warm water before adding some of the hotel’s soap into it. He stays and checks the temperature until it’s full, then grabs some towels and hands them to me.

  “Ah, so, um, call if you need anything,” he says before he finally leaves and closes the bathroom door, shutting me alone inside the small space. I almost call out for him to come back before I get a freaking grip.

  Deep breath in, out through my mouth. He’s right outside and isn’t going anywhere, I tell my panic. I’d feel better if the door was left wide open, but that would probably make Logan uncomfortable.

  Shaking myself out of the unnecessary paranoia, I place the towel on the counter and reach around to unzip my dress, sliding it down far enough that, when I stand up, it falls and puddles on the floor. Since I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, I climb carefully over into the tub and take a seat. Tilting my head back, I wet my hair and then sit up as I push the wet strands out of my face. Without thinking, my knees raise, and my arms wrap around them protectively as if it’s an automatic reflex, just like I did in jail.