Then what did he fuckin’ do ...? He led her into the worst sludge of the world—his father.
He’d brought her gift-wrapped to his father. “Jesus.”
“Logan?” Emily’s hand rested on his arm, still small and delicate, just like the first time he met her.
Looking at her now, he didn’t know why he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. She was perfect—the way her lashes dropped to cover half her eyes when she was thinking, how her breasts peaked perfectly beneath her shirt, and her thighs, damn her thighs were rock solid. He felt every bit of them on his bloody bike.
But it was way more than that. His girl had a strong empathy for horses, and the way she was around them, it was sexy as hell. God, she couldn’t see how beautiful she was which drove him crazy, but when she was with those horses, her uncertainty or insecurity or mistrust vanished. Determined as hell, yet still sensual and ... feminine. Her determination was playing against him right now, but despite that he respected her more for it, Jesus, he’d dragged her into hell and hurt her.
She didn’t see her strength, but he saw it from the beginning. God, he prayed every fuckin’ day that Raul or Alfonzo or Jacob wouldn’t break her. And he’d been so fuckin’ proud of her when she stood up to his piece-of-crap father, and even though it was the worst play she could’ve done, a part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and cry— Because she wasn’t broken. Emily never gave up.
Logan groaned, as he wrapped her into his arms and sighed when she came willingly. Jesus, he loved this woman. He’d thought of nothing except her for two years. She didn’t know what went down after he let her go, and he’d never tell her; she didn’t need that tainting her life. But it was her that gave him the strength to survive the hell Raul put him through. Deck ... He owed Deck his life for getting him out.
He squeezed her to him. “You looked hot, Mouse. Out there with that stallion ... I’m buying you more horses.”
“I can buy my own horses, Logan.”
He loved when she called him Logan. Eme and his mother were the only ones who called him that. Now he was called Logan by two remarkable women in his life that survived his father. And Deck. Deck survived his father too and risked his life. He got him out of there and witnessed the shape he was in. Deck wanted him to tell Eme what happened, but he couldn’t. She had enough horror in her life; she didn’t need to hear his horror. He’d shield her from that forever if he could.
“I know you can, it’s not the same thing.”
He caressed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she sighed.
“Rescue horses.”
“Hmmm?”
“You want to buy horses? Save the ones that need it.”
That was his Emily. “Whatever you want.” He kissed her forehead. “Trophy, Emily. You’re a trophy.”
Chapter 24
When they pulled up to the house, Crisis and Kite were sitting on the porch drinking beers, and Ream was leaning against the railing.
I unsnapped my helmet and passed it to Logan who placed it on the handle bars beside his. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair while avoiding his eyes. “I’ll, ah ... see you later. I better check on the horses.”
I turned, my heart in my throat and the familiar ache pulsating. Being with Logan today had been ... it was like the sun burning through the fog of my mind. And there in the brightness stood Logan and he was protective and strong and willing to do anything to repair us. Did I trust him? I believed him, so why was I hesitating on trusting him?
Logan tagged my hand and reeled me back in.
“No more running.” His thumb casually stroked the back of my hand, and it felt good. Really good.
“I’m not running—”
“You are.” He tugged, and I was up against his chest, breath seized, and he was watching me with those sexy heart-stopping eyes. “Why, baby?” His hands squeezed mine, and I felt that familiar warmth of his protectiveness come over me. He knew when I needed soft, encouraging words, or rough, harsh commands. He liked control; I got that and he did it well, I wanted that escape he gave me when I didn’t have to think and just felt. God, he knew me better than I knew myself. In Mexico there had been no trust; now our relationship had to have it more than anything.
“Logan. The trust between us, it’s still—”
He stopped me, leaning in and kissing me on the lips. It was hard, and it was sweet. When he pulled back, the soft skin on our lips held briefly together like when you touch your tongue to a dry ice cube. “Trust is built. Ours just needs to be rebuilt and it takes time. But baby, we’ll do it together.”
And for the first time, I gave into him completely. I let go of my head shit and what happened and took in what he was giving me—him. And God, it felt like the elephant sitting on my chest finally got up and walked away.
All chatter stopped, and three sets of eyes landed on me and Logan as we walked up onto the porch.
“Sweetness, looking mighty fine on that bike.” Crisis winked. “I’m thinkin’ now I need to get myself one.” His slight draw was sex on wheels with that voice and look. “Pussy tight against—”
Logan interrupted abruptly. “And you know Kite.” I nodded to him, and he smiled. With those cheekbones and brilliant green eyes, he must have broken hearts in every bar they went. “Emily. Good to see you again.”
Kite had ink all over his arms, and the left side of his neck was a hawk or eagle in flight. He had a shaved head and several piercings, one being on his left eye brow. He looked scary, but he’d been sweet when he’d protected me against Matt’s wraith that night we snuck in to watch Logan’s underground fight.
“Hey, Kite.”
“And you know Ream.”
“Um, yeah. We met briefly at Georgie’s and again last night.” Kat’s sexy, hot monster that lacked a smile but oozed in sex appeal.
“Be right back.” Logan went inside, and the screen door slammed shut behind him.