When He's Bad (Walker Security Adrian’s Trilogy #2) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,29

“But—actually, it didn’t start with me in a hole.” I tilt my head and think a moment as a realization comes to me. “Logan was in it.”

“Logan,” Adrian says, and while his tone is flat, there is this sharp disapproving energy about him.

I bristle defensively with that energy, my spine stiffening. “Not in a good way, Adrian. In fact, it was hellish and it was a real memory, and something you don’t know about, nor do I feel inclined to share right now.”

There’s a knock on the door and Adrian grimaces. “Who is it?”

“Adam.” He opens the door and peeks in. “A truckload of Chick-fil-A just arrived, Blake’s way of getting our asses upstairs and back to work.”

“Just the mention of Chick-fil-A makes my stomach growl,” I say, eager to escape this fight with Adrian. “I’m in.”

Not so eager to do the same, Adrian says. “We’ll be right there,” without looking at Adam.

The door shuts and I turn, intending to go to the bathroom. Adrian catches my arm, fire shooting from his touch across my shoulder and chest, which only serves to anger me. “Why are you always trying to stop me from going to the bathroom?” I demand. “And I need to eat. I can’t remember the last thing I actually did eat. “

His jaw flexes and he hesitates. But he releases me. I don’t wait around for him to change his mind about allowing my escape, either. I hurry into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it. What is happening with me and this man? Why are we always a tug of war, push, and pull?

I think of the Logan memory and instead of dwelling on how horrible Logan was, how abusive, something about Adrian stands out. He let me go when I demanded he let me go. Logan didn’t. He wouldn’t. There was more to that memory, but I can’t quite put a finger on what. The entire nightmare is a big fuzzy mess.

I push off the door, use the bathroom, wash up and freshen up, including adding a bit of lipstick to my pale lips, and then I open the door. Adrian is leaning on the wall by the door, and he holds up my phone. “Logan called.”

I snatch my phone. “Because he’s an asshole who wants to use me. I need food.” I start walking.

He straightens, catches the fingers of my hand—just the fingers—I think he feels that’s less of a bullying act, and it actually is. He steps around and into me, close, so close again, all those manly smells working me over again, his height towering over me. “We need to talk,” he says softly.

“You mean fight.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“But we will fight. We’re very good at fighting. I need food, Adrian,” I say. “If we fight right now, while I’m this hungry, you will surely lose. So, you decide. Fight now, or after I eat my Chick-fil-A sandwich?”

He gives me a heavy-lidded stare and then says, “We’re not done.” And then he releases me, leaving me wondering if he’s talking about the topic of Logan, or us. But I don’t dare ask or push for answers. I do need food. And I need a few minutes to think about what that memory meant. Because it wasn’t about me being fucked in a bathroom while having a panic attack that my fiancé was too arrogant and self-absorbed to realize I was having. That night was a conglomeration of pieces of our relationship that were dysfunctional, and always leading to a split.

Or even the fact that had I been in that bathroom with Adrian, I wouldn’t have resisted. Not even a little. It wasn’t even about Logan’s call and the “devil” remark. It’s about the fact that Logan was upset because my father was upset. Whatever the “devil” said on that phone call made Logan happy. That means he felt it would make my father happy.

This case hits a lot closer to home than I could ever have imagined and now I have to decide what to do about it. I want to call my father and confront him, but I know that’s a bad idea. I have to make everyone in this house, Adrian included, all of whom are trying to protect me and my family, understand how dirty the foundation on which I stand is.

Chapter Eighteen

ADRIAN

I have questions for Pri and things I need to say to her, but I give her the space she’s demanded. It