Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

9. Logan

NINE

LOGAN

LOS ANGELES, EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

Late afternoon light floated through the window where Logan sat at the small kitchen table. His textbooks were spread in front of him, and his laptop was open to the report he was writing for his English 101 class. Not that he intended to do a whole lot with words. Numbers were his game.

He heard the rumble of a motorcycle approaching in the distance. A spot of excitement hit his chest. He was used to being alone, it didn’t bother him all that much, but he had to admit sometimes the silence got to him.

It gave him too much time to think.

Too much time to ponder what life might have been like if his mother were still alive.

Too much time to contemplate the dynamic of his family.

More than anything, it gave him too much time to worry over his brothers, what danger they might find themselves in that day.

Logan knew Trent and Jud tried to hide the truth of who they were from him and Nathan. They did it out of love, hoping to guard them from the brutality of their day-to-day.

That didn’t mean it didn’t sometimes make Logan feel detached. Like he wasn’t a part of who they were, as ugly as it might be.

The roar increased before Logan heard the bike come to an idle in the driveway of the four-bedroom house he lived in with his brothers. They’d moved there when Trent was twenty, when he’d stepped up and made the choice to take Jud, Logan, and Nathan out of their father’s home and bring them there.

Away.

Separated.

Where it was safer.

Lonelier, too, because it was a world apart from where Trent and Jud spent most of their days and nights.

The side door opened, and Trent pushed through, donning his cut and worn boots and that darkly quiet ferocity forever hewn on his face.

Vengeance.

Cruelty.

Trent might not ever admit it, but Logan knew he’d been hunting their mother’s killer since the day she’d been ruthlessly gunned down in front of their old house when Logan had only been nine.

His spirit curled in on itself when he remembered it. A crushing he was sure would never abate. He gulped around it when Trent jutted his chin his way. “Hey, man, how are you, brother?”

“Good.” Logan eyed him in speculation. “What are you doing here? I thought you had business tonight?”

“Something more important came up.”

Logan frowned. “What’s that?”

Trent roughed a tatted hand through the short crop of black hair on his head, then he looked Logan straight on. “You.”

Anxiety made a prickly slide down his spine, and he pushed his laptop back.

Trent hesitated, warred, then sighed as he crossed the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and flipped it around and sat on it with his arms rested on the back, staring at Logan like he’d become his sole focus.

“What’s going on, man?” Logan hated that his voice wobbled. Hated that Trent thought him some kind of pussy. Like he wasn’t strong enough to even know the monsters he faced each day. Not that he wanted to go on daily raids or murder sprees.

But he wanted to…belong. For Trent to trust him enough to at least confide in him.

Trent let his attention drift over Logan’s homework before he cut a glance at Logan. “You’re fuckin’ smart, man. Smarter than any of us. Damned wizard with the numbers.”

There was no missing the foreboding wound in it.

“That’s no secret. We all know I’m the smartest, best looking of the bunch,” Logan tossed out with a smirk, doing his best to ignore Trent’s agitation.

Because seriously, what the hell was this about?

Trent checked on him, yeah. Made sure he was going to class. But Trent didn’t need to worry about any of that shit. Logan was laser focused. Was set on coming out on top. He’d be rich, but he was going to do that shit right.

Trent rubbed his fingertips over his lips. It was a tell.

His oldest brother was disturbed.

“Yeah, and our father has noticed.” It came out a low warning.

A frown took to Logan’s face, and he almost shrugged if it weren’t for the ripples of unease billowing off of Trent. “So?”

Trent grunted in frustration. “So, if he sees something that he can use for his benefit, that’s what the bastard’s gonna do.”

Trent might have worn the vice pres patch for their MC, Iron Owls, but their father was the president. Which meant whatever their father said was gospel, no matter if Trent liked it or not.

Over the years, the animosity between the two had grown, but there was little Trent could do but his duty to the club. It was where his life was pledged.

Live to Ride, Ride to Die.

Once you took that oath, that was it.

You were an Owl until the day you were put in the ground.

Logan figured it was the main reason Trent had purchased this house in a family neighborhood clear across the city from the club’s quarters. He was hiding both him and Nathan away, hoping their father didn’t notice any talents that could be extorted.

Hell, he probably hoped their father had forgotten that they even existed.

Logan’s knee began to bounce. “What does that mean for me?”

Trent’s head barely shook as he rested farther on the chair and angled closer. “It means he found a way to use you. He promised you to a man named Andres Costa.”

Logan blinked and his chest tightened.

He knew the name.

Trent’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, irritation burning through his blood. “They want you working his books. Looking for ways to get their money into legitimate investments. Growing it.”

It was pointed when Trent said it.

An undercurrent of a message.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Logan’s neck and fear took hold.

Trent was on his feet and kneeling in front of him in a flash. He gripped Logan’s knee, angling his head up and forcing Logan to meet his eye. “I fought him on it, Logan. I did. Told him I didn’t want you mixed up in this mess. You’re too good for it. Too fuckin’ good. He insisted you’re a Lawson. That you are destined to patch in.”

Trent drew in a shattered sigh. “Won’t let that happen, Logan. I won’t. I pushed back until we came to a concession that I still hate, but at least it spares you the cut. You’ll be working at Costa’s compound. Far away from the club. Where it can’t touch you. You’ll be safe there. It’s where his family lives, and he does not allow violence to infiltrate those walls.”

Logan couldn’t stop the tremors that wracked his limbs.

Trent stood and brought him to his feet, holding him by the outside of both shoulders. “You just have to keep your head down low, Logan. Stay under the radar. Don’t interact with anyone except to listen for instruction. You can’t let this world get under your skin, man. You can’t.”

Trent’s voice cracked on the last, and he gave Logan a soft shake. “Promise me, Logan, promise me you’ll do your job, and it ends at that.”

Logan forced himself to nod around the shock.

Trent breathed out in what sounded like pained relief as he pulled Logan to his chest and hugged him fiercely. “I won’t let him destroy you, too. I promise, Logan. I promise.”

Logan was nothing but nerves as Trent pulled his truck to the side entrance of a mansion in one of the wealthiest communities in the Greater Los Angeles Area. It was basically a compound, like Trent had called it, the walls almost as high as the security measures surrounding it.

From the front, it looked no different than any of the other estates that sat on multiple acres. Tall trees soared over the height of the walls, the gate ornate, the house within not visible from the street.

The truck idled at the curb as Trent clutched the steering wheel. His brother was clearly fighting a brand-new war.

“I’ll be fine,” Logan promised. “Don’t worry.”

Logan figured he’d make the best of it. Numbers were in his blood. He’d take every lesson he learned here and apply it to what he did in the future.

Make some extra cash, too.

He couldn’t say he was bummed about that.

He could only be wary about who he was working for.

Trent stared at him, blinked, then sent him a tight nod. “Okay.”

Logan gave him half a smile and climbed out. He hiked his backpack higher and moved to a narrow gateway where he was instructed to be at six p.m. He peered into the camera that stared back.

With his heart racing, a deep, thudding pulse that he felt all the way to his ears, he was buzzed through and led onto the grounds that made the Los Angeles Botanical Gardens look like a desert wasteland. In the distance was a house, so large it could have been a hotel.

Logan inhaled. He was sure he could actually smell money.

He felt a flash of excitement.

He quelled it, remembered Trent had warned him to keep his head down.

The man he followed led him through a set of doors on the far side of the rambling building. It was an area that appeared to be separated from the main living quarters.

He walked down the long corridor, his footsteps echoing on the marble floors.

There was a room on the right that made him slow as they passed by. The double doors opened to a massive room with grand ceilings and books lining each wall that were stacked to the sky.

Leather furniture filled the middle, and he wasn’t sure if his heart stopped or sped so fast that he could no longer feel it when someone peeked at him from over the back of a couch.

The girl tried to keep herself hidden as she peered at him.

Her hair the darkest chocolate and her eyes the color of the molten sun.

Logan realized the promise he’d made his brother had been made in vain.

Because there would be no keeping to himself.