Protector: The Flawed Series Book Three Page 4

  Nic’s hand twitched.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Pause.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Pause.

  Ethan was about to shoot a command at his partner when heavy music thumped and a convertible eased into the ATM lane. The driver flounced blonde hair over her shoulder as she craned to shove her bank card into the slot. Her dark-haired friend said something, and both girls’ laughter trickled through Ethan’s open window.

  “Too bad we can’t take them home,” Nicodemus said.

  Ethan glanced at Nicodemus, who eyed the two women. “Can’t take the risk.”

  “I know. I’m just sayin’. Look at that blonde.”

  If anything, the brunette was more Ethan’s type. He watched her, his mind seeing beyond, fixating on the memory of the dark-haired woman he really wanted. Not just wanted, but would have. He licked his lips and felt his pulse spike.

  The convertible pulled out, and Nicodemus lurched the car forward to keep up. He’d acquired the vehicle several months previous with a fat wad of cash, and his ability procured them a title under a false identity. Ethan had flatly refused the idea of stealing a car because he had no idea how long it would take to find Kelsey, and he didn’t want any chance of them being caught.

  Nicodemus followed the convertible for a mile then pulled into the right lane when it idled at a stoplight. He leaned out the window and yelled at the girls, who were bouncing to the music.

  “How’s it going?”

  Ethan stifled a groan at Nicodemus’s imbecilic line.

  “Pull off, next street,” Nicodemus said. The driver obeyed, as they always did when Nicodemus spoke to them. Ethan rolled his eyes at the lack of pretense. He could get away with anything. And he really shouldn’t, considering his meager looks and disgusting lack of etiquette. It made Ethan feel cheap, being with this clown and his silly magic tricks.

  They pulled into the darkened lot of a small church—an odd place to pick up cruisers, but at least Nicodemus had some sense. No one else was hanging around this place, and it was too small for security cameras. With no floodlights on the lot, the only illumination came from the lights across the street. It was enough light for Nicodemus’s power to work, and little enough for Ethan’s night vision. A prime spot for what needed to be done.

  Nicodemus jumped out of the car and walked up to the driver. He bent forward and leaned his elbows on her door. Ethan exited the car with more grace and poise. When he strolled up to the passenger side of the convertible, the limits to Nicodemus’s power were glaringly obvious. The blonde’s gaze was fixed on Nicodemus, but her friend was protesting. He could only ever control one at a time.

  “We’re not going with this dude!” the brunette said, trying to nudge her friend. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

  “Gimme your cash.” Nicodemus held out a scrawny hand. The blonde dug in her purse.

  “Sandy! What are you doing?” The brunette grabbed her friend’s handbag and yanked it away. “You aren’t giving this creep your money! Let’s get out of here.”

  The blonde’s gaze flicked to her friend only long enough for her to snatch the purse and turn back to Nicodemus. She dug out a wallet and opened it. Ethan had to at least appreciate the hold of Nicodemus’s power. He’d thought it only worked as long as the eye contact was held, but apparently the effects lasted longer than that.

  The brunette was really riled up now, raising her voice, trying to snag her friend’s attention.

  Someone had to control this mess before it really got out of hand.

  Ethan pulled the passenger door open. The brunette spun to face him. “Hey!” In a flash, he wrapped his arm around her neck and covered her mouth with his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nicodemus pocket the money.

  Ethan yanked the brunette to her feet and out of the car. She fought, but liquid pooled in her eyes, showing her fear. She wouldn’t struggle long. He sighed to himself, wishing for a brief moment that it didn’t to have to end so soon.

  He sent one last glance over at Nicodemus, who was carefully sorting the bills by denomination. That guy had a serious OCD problem.

  Pathetic.

  “Time to end this,” Ethan said, lifting his chin to his partner. Then he looked into the wide eyes of the woman in his grip. Her perfume wafted over him, teasing his nasal passages. His skin prickled. He reminded himself what this woman was—not a conquest, not even a plaything. She wasn’t for his enjoyment. She was a barrier standing in his way. He needed to find Kelsey, and to find her, he needed time, which meant paying their rent.

  Ethan’s fingers tightened around the woman, and he pulled out his knife. He plunged it deep into her throat. She went limp in his arms.

  Several days later, Logan walked out of class, chatting with John Maloney. “Thanks again for coming,” Logan said. “They loved the crack about history professors.”

  John thumped Logan on the back with a strong hand. “Sorry to take you down like that, chap.”

  Logan smiled. “No harm done. I didn’t take it personally, and besides, I like to think I know your tricks pretty well by now.”

  “Tricks? What tricks?” John widened his brown eyes and scratched his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Connecting on their level. Winning them over so they take you seriously—the way you did when I was in high school. Best way to do that is to ally with them against an authority figure.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” John asked.

  “Not in the least. I invited you to come speak so they could get an inside look at being an educator—and to get them excited about teaching in general. You did that well.”

  “I enjoyed it,” John said.

  Logan entered his office, and John leaned against the door frame, setting his briefcase down against the wall.

  “I need to catch up on a few emails real quick,” Logan said, “but if you have a few minutes, we could grab a coffee or something. I’d like to hear how Broomfield High’s doing.”

  “Wish I could, but I have to get back for a parent-teacher meeting this evening.”

  “Oh. Gotcha.”

  Still, John hesitated in the doorway.

  Logan cocked his head, watching his old mentor and wondering what was on John’s mind.

  “I’m glad you’re doing so well,” John said.

  “Didn’t think I’d make it, eh?”

  “It’s not that. Well, I guess a part of me couldn’t imagine you teaching—you were always eloquent, it wasn’t that. I guess I just figured your loner habits would be too hard to shake. I never could get you to participate in team activities.”

  Logan shrugged. “I was never great at being social. I’ve had to change quite a bit to get where I am now.”

  “Well, I’m impressed. In any regard, I’d be happy to come back any time you need me.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. I know it’s a bit of a drive from Boulder.”

  John waved a hand. “It’s good to get away now and then.” He picked up his satchel and stepped forward to shake Logan’s hand. “See you later.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Logan turned his focus to the computer, replying to several emails from students. He hit send on the last one and was about to pack up when there was a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called over his shoulder. He heard the door open and softly click shut again. Logan powered down his machine and turned.

  Violet’s cool blue eyes stared him down, her red lips pressed in a tight line.

  He really didn’t want to play this game. “Can I help you?” he said as neutrally as possible.

  “Hmm, let’s think.” She touched a finger to her lips in mock thoughtfulness. “Can you help me…possibly. But what you should ask is how I can help you. I can think of quite a few ways…” She sashayed around his desk, and when he didn’t swivel to meet her gaze, she stepped behind him. Warm hands touched his shoulders.

  He stiffened.

  Her hands trailed over the long hair going down
his back. Her fingertips lingered at the nape of his neck then returned to his shoulders.

  “Violet—”

  “You’re way too tense. You just need to relax.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, kneading the muscles.

  Logan spun in his chair to face her, the anger bubbling beneath his composed exterior. “You know this is sexual harassment.”

  She chucked as if enjoying the idea. “Maybe you should report me. I’m sure you, being the older, male professor, would be the one they believed. I’m just a lowly departmental assistant.”

  “You aren’t my assistant. So why are you here? And why did you get into my truck?”

  “So, you found my note.” Violet gave him a coy smile and ignored his glare with a toss of her hair. He caught a whiff of lilac.

  Logan couldn’t forget the way she’d manipulated him last year, and the way she’d gotten under his skin when he needed a confidant years earlier. He knew he would never beat her by reporting her behavior. If there was one thing she was good at, it was reading people, playing on their reactions, milking every last drop of compassion. He didn’t have her charisma, let alone her ability at deception. He couldn’t win that game, and being a male professor had little to do with it.

  Violet’s eyes flicked to the framed picture on his desk. It was the photo he’d taken of Jade last year on their first planned hike together. A confident smile lit her face, and her hair billowed out behind her. It was before they’d started officially dating—ironically, it had led him to consider leaving Colorado Springs for good. But he’d eventually decided to stay.

  “Cute picture.” Violet’s nose scrunched with distaste. “You made up? I saw you two holding hands earlier today.”

  Logan held her gaze but didn’t answer.

  “When are you going to ditch that chick?” She gave an exaggerated groan of disgust and flicked her auburn hair over her shoulder. That lilac scent again—too floral, as if he were in a flowerbed—wafted over Logan, and his stomach clenched, matching the tightness everywhere else.

  Placing her hands on the arms of his chair, she leaned forward. Her voice adopted a soft, suggestive tone. “Logan. I have so much more to offer. If you just give me a chance, I can show you.”

  “There’s nothing to show. I’ve seen you work people. I know you.”

  Her eyes flashed. “And I know you. I know you need someone to open up to—can you do that with her?”

  He started to answer, but she cut him off.

  “Can you really expose your feelings to her? The way you did with me?”

  Raw emotion hiccupped inside Logan. His throat constricted, and his mouth went dry. All the times he’d held back around Jade came to mind and taunted him as if they were Violet’s allies—and yet Violet knew nothing about the real reason.

  “Admit it—she’ll never be that for you. She’ll never give you the release you need.” Violet slid her tongue along her top lip. She smirked. “She’s just another college slut.”

  Logan shot warning flares at her with his eyes. Heat flooded his veins, and his shoulders trembled with rage. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Don’t. Call. Her. That.”

  It was as if his words gave Violet life, somehow imparting a new level of vibrancy. She seemed to radiate with energy, every part of her coming alive with heat and vigor and passion.

  Her unblinking eyes drilled him, watching for the faintest twitch, anticipating a response. “What? Slut? Would you prefer skank? Whore? Bi—”

  Logan roared as pure, animal fury ripped through him. He lashed forward, shoving her off, his muscles reacting like whiplash. Violet flew across the office like a rag doll, her body crashing into the far wall. She landed slumped against the floor.

  What had he done?

  Terror snapped Logan back to his senses, every trace of anger vanishing. The hot fury turned icy cold, slicing down his spine as he rushed to where she’d fallen. “Violet! Are you okay?” His heart pounded like a jackhammer as he grabbed her shoulders and searched her eyes.

  She stared as if in shock, but a second later she blinked. Nodded, as if confused.

  He scooped her up in one quick motion, checking the floor beneath her. No blood. Not on the wall, either, but it had been damaged—a sharp vertical crater had torn the drywall open. Small chunks of debris tumbled out of the crack.

  Setting her into his padded leather desk chair, he knelt in front of her, seeking her eyes again. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I think so.” The tone of her voice had morphed completely, taken on the timbre of a young girl’s.

  Violet regained her composure. Her back straightened, and Logan breathed a silent sigh that nothing seemed to be broken. She stood and winced, a hand reaching to touch her hip delicately. He bit his lip. No doubt she would have bruises.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling even more helpless in this situation than when she’d goaded him.

  When she made to stand, he reached a hand to help her out of the chair. She ignored it and rose slowly, as if testing her balance. Her eyes had lost all of their energy, and her skin was pale. A strange aura of vulnerability replaced the proud set of her shoulders.

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her expression was hesitant but showed no trace of the anger Logan expected. Apparently his attack had disarmed her.

  He cringed. Attack. The word tore through him, shredding his insides.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped toward the door.

  “Wait, Violet—”

  Her head turned, her gaze even and without a hint of emotion. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to report this.”

  Logan watched her go, felt his mouth hanging slack. But there were no more words—there was nothing he could say to possibly make this better.

  After she left, he eased the door closed and turned to stare at the damage. He touched the break in the wall’s surface, and his fingers came away dusty with white powder.

  How could he have let this happen? How could he have lost control so utterly? Her taunts weren’t an excuse for his behavior.

  Logan’s shoulders sagged. His power was too much to handle. What if something like this happened in a fight with Jade? His stomach twisted with nausea.

  A knock on the door made his spine go rigid. He moved his jaw, but words didn’t come.

  The door opened anyway, and John poked his head inside. Thankfully, the door hid the damage where Violet had hit the wall.

  “I was five miles down the road before I realized I didn’t have my mobile. Hopefully I left it he—” The edges of John’s mouth pulled down. “You okay?”

  “I—” Logan managed to nod, then let it fade into a shrug. He didn’t have the energy to pretend right now.

  John arched a brow. “What’s wrong?”

  A lump was lodged in Logan’s throat. He swallowed—a dry, scratchy sensation. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Logan ran his hands through his hair. His chest deflated with a sigh.

  “What is it?”

  “Sometimes it feels like a monster’s taken over my body.”

  Sometimes wasn’t entirely accurate, but John didn’t know about Logan’s flaw—the super strength upside or the freakishly hairy downside, though now both seemed to be liabilities.

  “What do you mean?” John stepped inside, his forehead creased with concern.

  Logan’s gaze shot to the door and back to John. A massive exhale erupted through Logan’s chest.

  “You can tell me anything—you know that, right? I’m not going to judge you. And I’ve seen it all.”

  He hadn’t seen everything. “It’s just…my emotions have been going haywire lately. I feel like I keep flying off the handle over nothing.”

  John nodded slowly, considering. “That’s it?”

  “Well…” Logan didn’t feel like rehashing all the gory details. “Pretty much, yeah. I don’t get why it’s all happening now.”

  “It started recently?”r />
  “Yeah.”

  “How long ago?”

  “I don’t know. Since last year, maybe?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-one. You think it’s age related?”

  “I don’t know. The medical sciences aren’t really my forte, but I was just thinking maybe it’s some type of hormone imbalance. Maybe it hits when you’re approaching middle age or something…although you’re a bit young for that just yet.”

  Logan didn’t feel young at that moment. “What would cause it?”

  John shrugged. “Could be genetic.”

  “I never knew my parents.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “You think my mom or dad went through something like this?”

  “I don’t know. Did you ever research your birth parents?”

  “No. I guess I always figured if they gave me up I didn’t want to know them, and if they were dead there was no use looking.”

  “Maybe. But I hear kids talk like that all the time—and often they still want to know about their parents.”

  “I guess I’m a little curious—more now, with this weird stuff happening.” Logan’s heart thudded faster. Maybe his parents had more in common with him than just mood swings. What if they had special flaws, too—like he and Jade and the others? “Maybe I should try to get in touch with them.”

  John shrugged. “Maybe you should.” He turned back near the door and scooped up an item near the edge of Logan’s desk. “Yep, here it is. Must’ve fallen out of my bag.” He held up the cell phone.

  “Glad you didn’t lose it.”

  John turned toward the door.

  “Oh, and John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the chat.”

  John’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Anytime.”

  When John had disappeared down the hall, Logan closed his door, and his eyes jumped back to the damaged wall. For the first time in years, he wondered what his parents had been doing all this time. Who were they, and why had they left him to the foster system?

  Now seemed like as good a time as ever to get some answers. He had to protect Jade from what had happened with Violet. He needed to figure out why he kept losing control.