There was a tiny trace of jealousy in Logan’s voice as he ventured, “So how did you meet?”
Grant shook his head disgustedly. “We have the same parole officer. We met outside his office.” Watching Logan absorb this explanation, it suddenly dawned on Grant that if not for Logan forcing him to pull that job and get arrested, he would have never met Sophie. Logan was the reason he’d found the love of his life. And now, Logan was the reason he’d lost the love of his life.
His steely eyes set with resentment, Grant seethed, “We were in love. Love! Something you know nothing about, Lo. And now she won’t want anything to do with me—knowing I’m a Barberi, knowing my brother is the man who ruined her.” The wicked sarcasm returned. “Thank you so much, Lo. Thank you for coming here.”
Logan clenched his jaw. “I fucked up, Grant. Big time. But I’m going to try to make it up to you. I’m going to be a better brother—a better father too. I’ve changed.”
This load of bullshit dropped Grant’s jaw. “You’ve changed?” he scoffed.
“I’ve changed, Grant. No more running drugs. No more hits. I’m supposed to be doing a job for Carlo right now, and I refused. Hell, I haven’t even gambled in over a year.”
“Sure, you’ve changed,” Grant replied, his voice dripping with derision. “What prompted this miraculous change?”
He considered the question for a few moments. Then he chuckled, low and deep.
“What the hell could be remotely funny right now?”
“I just realized,” Logan said, “why I wanted to change. It was Sophie. She helped me see I could be a good person. That I … that I … that I once was a kid who tried to do the right thing, who tried to protect his younger brother …” Logan’s voice trailed off, lost in memories of his childhood. Shaking off the painful images, he exhaled loudly. “It was Sophie. Kind of ironic, huh?”
“Get out,” Grant fumed. “Get out of my life!” He crumpled onto the rented sofa and held his face in his hands. “You already ruined my life once, and now you’re doing it again. I wish you weren’t my brother. I wish—”
“Don’t say it, Grant.” Logan stopped breathing.
His frosty eyes were as cold as ice. “I wish you were dead.”
A stunned silence settled between them, and Logan swallowed hard. So, there would be no chance to redeem himself to his brother. He should have known as much.
“Please leave,” Grant whimpered, refusing to look at his brother.
Logan had no choice. He quietly rose and shuffled down the hallway, hearing the door shut behind him. As he stole away into the night, he realized he had forgotten to warn Grant about Carlo. Ah well, maybe another time. It wasn’t like Grant was in the mood to listen to anything he had to say. All he seemed to care about was losing Sophie. Logan felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, thinking of her. They had both lost Sophie.
*
Sophie walked numbly through the streets of Chicago, having no idea where she was and not caring in the least.
How could she have been so incredibly, undeniably stupid? She was devastatingly dense, naive, obtuse, foolish—the biggest idiot in the entire city of nine million people. The skyscrapers hovered over her, closing in on her, mocking her imprudent attempt to start over, her ill-advised endeavor to find love.
She had allowed herself to be duped yet again, and the intensity of the rage and humiliation stirring in her gut made her want to throw up. They were brothers! How the hell had she not seen that? It was right in front of her face! Grant and Logan standing next to each other in that damn apartment—looking alike, sounding alike, acting alike—it was the most obvious thing in the world! She had been fucking blind.
Anita’s worried voice floated in her mind: He doesn’t have anything to do with the man who put you in prison, does he?
Sophie screamed. She was walking in the middle of downtown Chicago, the streets teeming with nightlife, yet she screamed out loud. Sophie emitted a wail of utter despair and regret. A few passersby gave her strange looks, but Sophie forged ahead, aware of nothing but the pain pressing on her heart.
How had she let this happen? How had she failed to realize that Grant was part of a Mafia family? His name was Grant Madsen, not Grant Barberi, wasn’t it? Or had he lied about that too? Then she remembered their conversation about his mother dying and his uncle adopting him. Uncle Joe must be Joe Madsen. Smart man to try to separate his nephew from the destruction of the Barberi bunch—too bad he didn’t succeed, given that Logan walked into Grant’s apartment like he owned the place, like they saw each other all the time.
There had been hints all along. She had started the whole dishonest ruse, almost begging him to deceive her on the courthouse steps outside Jerry’s office:
Let’s not talk about our families. Let’s talk about something else.
And then later:
Um, why did you go to prison?
Well, if we’re not talking about families, then I can’t really answer that.
A momentary curiosity about how his family was involved in his imprisonment flashed through her mind, quickly replaced by her anger toward herself and Grant. No wonder he had encouraged them to make a pact not to discuss their pasts. No wonder he had wanted to hide his past from her. He was damaged goods.
Addictions run in my family, he’d told her. Like gambling, she mused. And alcoholism. And lying. Logan had lied to her so he could use her office as an illegal dumping ground. Why had Grant lied to her? What was he hoping to gain? How was he planning to use her? Perhaps she would never know.
She kept walking, her mind as numb as her feet. A scowl settled over her features. With uneasiness, she realized she had slept with both brothers. Once he found out, Grant would probably think she was a whore. Who was she kidding—she was as damaged as he was.
Suddenly Sophie stopped dead in her tracks, remembering the awful story Logan had told her in therapy—the horrible trauma that made her try to comfort him, leading to their first kiss, the heart-wrenching family tale that appeared to undo Logan and left Sophie furious with parents who abused their children.
She cried silently on the street. That little four-year-old boy locked in the closet all night—that was Grant! Grant, who was scarred from the undoubtedly plentiful beatings delivered by his father. No wonder he had nightmares, growing up with a bastard father like that, a father now serving a life sentence in Gurnee, according to the newspapers.
Sophie gasped again. Grant had been imprisoned with his father! He’d been thrown into the same penitentiary as his abuser, and her heart ached for him.