“You got caught banging your secretary, and now you’re trying to blame me for it... It’s obvious you only gave her the job so you could bang her.”
I rise from my seat without my own conscious consent and try to dive for Logan as he climbs off the stage and into the crowd of reporters. He’s furious, and he’s snapped. Adrenaline pumps through my blood and my body heats. No! The entire room lets out a collective gasp. His face going white, Patterson tries to scramble over several people to get away from the raging Logan, but he’s too slow. Logan climbs over two people and the metal chairs are tossed out of the way as the crowd disperses, moving away from Logan’s target. He grabs Patterson by the collar, yanking him close. I can’t see everything, but I can see the first punch. Logan has him on the ground. Fuck! The room erupts into chaos, and the crowd surrounds the two men, shouting and yelling and snapping pictures. I can barely breathe as I push through the crowd.
“Logan!” I yell, my heart beating within my chest like a war drum. There’s no way Logan is leaving this room without handcuffs. And even worse, this is going to cause more damage to Parker-Moore than the erotic photos of us ever will. I try to reach him, but I keep getting shoved back. I can’t let him do this. I have to stop him.
I’m pushed back against a tide of bodies and am nearly trampled as I stumble off balance. Logan could end up killing Patterson, but all these vultures care about is getting their precious photos to sell to the highest bidder.
“Logan! Stop!” I scream, regaining my balance and trying to push my way through to him. I’m not sure if he heard me, but the crowd parts behind the fight, and I stand as tall as I can to see why.
Bloody and covered in sweat, he begins pushing his way through the crowd of shouting reporters. He’s silent and heaving in his breaths. Ignoring everyone and heading toward the exit.
Not wasting any time, I chase after him, shoving and pushing my way through anyone that gets in the way.
When I make it outside, there are a crowd of reporters crowding Logan, snapping pictures left and right.
“Logan!” I yell, running in my heels and trying to get his attention. But he doesn’t see me, and he doesn’t hear me; he’s too busy rushing toward the sidewalk where his limo awaits. I watch as Andrew gets out of the vehicle and rushes around to the passenger side, opening the door and holding it open for Logan.
I run as fast as my legs can carry me to the sidewalk, shoving shouting reporters out of the way. I look up, frantically breathing and our eyes meet. Logan gets out and walks straight toward me, pulling me into the limo with him and slamming the door shut. Andrew’s already pulling away with screeching tires by the time I’m able to catch my breath and sit up.
“Why did you do that?” I shake my head, practically screaming at him with tears in my eyes. My heart’s still pounding. This is bad, it’s so fucking bad.
“No one’s going to talk to you like that.” His voice is weak.
“This isn’t good,” I say and take in a slow breath, closing my eyes, trying to calm down.
When Logan doesn’t respond, I open my eyes and lean forward, peering at him with concern. It’s the first time that I really take a good look at him. His knuckles are bruised and cut, and there’s dried blood from his hands up to his arm. It’s all over his shirt. I finally reach his face, and my heart stops beating. His eyes seem distant, something… something’s wrong. “Logan?”
It takes him a moment to register that I'm talking to him. Logan tries to say something, but his words are unintelligible to my ears and his body sways.
“Logan?” I ask again, panicked now and gripping his shoulders and then head, trying to get him to look at me.
His eyes rolling into the back of his head, Logan collapses against the seat. Oh my God. No! “Logan!” I scream, shaking him and refusing to believe this is real. He’s unresponsive. I press my hand against his throat.
“What’s going on?” Andrew asks with concern.
I scream, “He needs a hospital! Now!”
Chapter 32
Logan
The constant beep, beep, beep from the machine is giving me a fucking headache. I stare at it. The blue and red lines are moving rhythmically across the screen. My back is stiff from being in this fucking hospital bed. The sheets they have are thin and scratchy. My shirt’s ripped down the front. They couldn’t fucking unbutton it fast enough.
I’m pissed. I don’t want to be here.
I’m not ready.
“Mr. Parker?” Doctor Wallace says. I take a deep breath and turn to face him on my right. I school my expression so I don’t take the anger out on him. It’s not his fault.
It’s no one’s fault. It just is what it is.
“We need to move this to radiation. It’s now stage four non-Hodgkin lymphoma.”