suddenly scared about what I’ve just witnessed; “I mean there aren’t even any gloves .”
The wind buffets against his face and through his hair, and he grins and shrugs before he turns and spits blood out through the open car window; “Yeah, well, that is why they call it bareknuckle .”
I stare at him; “It’s barbaric.”
He shrugs again, looking both completely insane and absurdly attractive in this dirty, hot way as he sits there shirtless in the car; his muscles and tattoos still gleaming with his sweat; “Not gonna fight you on that, darlin.”
OK, I know he’s this big macho ex-Marine or whatever, with all hardcore tough-as-nails crap that comes with that. But this is completely insane; he must know that.
“This is totally nuts, you know that, right?” I reach out with a tissue from my pocket and dab at the blood on the side of his face; “You could die in there, Logan.” I say it quietly, keeping my eyes locked on his.
“Is that your medical opinion, Doctor Arch-”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrow at my cutting him off, but he nods slowly as the streetlights streak across the windshield; “Well, not today.” And there’s that grin again; that armor coming right back up and shutting me out.
“I saw you arguing with that guy, afterwards.”
Logan’s face tenses, but his lips stay closed.
“You could've knocked him out, but you didn’t.”
“My my , Doc, restoring to violence? Isn’t that against your oaths or something?”
“Stop being cute; why didn’t you hit him?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What, is he paying you or something?”
Logan barks out a laugh; “I’m a majority shareholder in a multi-billion dollar corporation, Quinn. I’m not exactly hurting in the finance department.”
“OK, so why the hell would-” I stop, the answer suddenly as clear as day in front of me. Why would a man like Logan do anything anyone says, especially someone he clearly hates like the guy from the fight?
“You’re doing this because they’re making you , aren’t you?” Logan doesn’t say a word, and I push on; “They aren’t paying you, so what, are they blackmailing you or something?” Instantly, I know I’ve hit a nerve as I see his face harden again as he stares out at the road in front of us; “I’m right, aren’t I.”
“Sort of. No.” He sighs as he runs a hands through his hair; “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not to this.”
“Try me.”
Logan looks at me with a curious smirk on his face; “Let’s get a drink.”
Yep; there he goes shutting me out again; “Fine” I say defeatedly, turning to look out my own window and shake my head.
Logan turns a quick corner, and he suddenly pulls up at once of the nicest, most exclusive boutique hotels in the city.
“Do you like scotch?”
I blink at the posh, ultra-cosmopolitan bar on the ground floor of the hotel and turn to stare at him; “Are you serious? No offense, but have you seen how you look right now?” He looks like, well, he looks hot , but he also looks like he just went three rounds in a bareknuckle boxing match.
‘Cause, you know, he did.
He’s also still not wearing a damn shirt, and I’m hardly more appropriately dressed for this kind of place, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt. Logan just shrugs though; “Simple question, Archer. Scotch: yay or nay?”
I sigh; “Fine, yay. Very yay.”
“Great.” His grin widens, and he nods towards the glove compartment; “Pop that and grab it, and let’s go.”
Inside is a bottle of scotch that probably cost the same as at least a month or two of my rent. I’m opening my mouth to ask what the heck we’re doing, but he’s already hopping out of the car and tossing tossing keys to a valet as he yanks a t-shirt on.
“ Fine ”, I mutter as I snatch the bottle and step out; “Bringing your own booze to a bar? Little low-brow for a guy like you isn’t that Logan?”
He
The wind buffets against his face and through his hair, and he grins and shrugs before he turns and spits blood out through the open car window; “Yeah, well, that is why they call it bareknuckle .”
I stare at him; “It’s barbaric.”
He shrugs again, looking both completely insane and absurdly attractive in this dirty, hot way as he sits there shirtless in the car; his muscles and tattoos still gleaming with his sweat; “Not gonna fight you on that, darlin.”
OK, I know he’s this big macho ex-Marine or whatever, with all hardcore tough-as-nails crap that comes with that. But this is completely insane; he must know that.
“This is totally nuts, you know that, right?” I reach out with a tissue from my pocket and dab at the blood on the side of his face; “You could die in there, Logan.” I say it quietly, keeping my eyes locked on his.
“Is that your medical opinion, Doctor Arch-”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrow at my cutting him off, but he nods slowly as the streetlights streak across the windshield; “Well, not today.” And there’s that grin again; that armor coming right back up and shutting me out.
“I saw you arguing with that guy, afterwards.”
Logan’s face tenses, but his lips stay closed.
“You could've knocked him out, but you didn’t.”
“My my , Doc, restoring to violence? Isn’t that against your oaths or something?”
“Stop being cute; why didn’t you hit him?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What, is he paying you or something?”
Logan barks out a laugh; “I’m a majority shareholder in a multi-billion dollar corporation, Quinn. I’m not exactly hurting in the finance department.”
“OK, so why the hell would-” I stop, the answer suddenly as clear as day in front of me. Why would a man like Logan do anything anyone says, especially someone he clearly hates like the guy from the fight?
“You’re doing this because they’re making you , aren’t you?” Logan doesn’t say a word, and I push on; “They aren’t paying you, so what, are they blackmailing you or something?” Instantly, I know I’ve hit a nerve as I see his face harden again as he stares out at the road in front of us; “I’m right, aren’t I.”
“Sort of. No.” He sighs as he runs a hands through his hair; “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
“Not to this.”
“Try me.”
Logan looks at me with a curious smirk on his face; “Let’s get a drink.”
Yep; there he goes shutting me out again; “Fine” I say defeatedly, turning to look out my own window and shake my head.
Logan turns a quick corner, and he suddenly pulls up at once of the nicest, most exclusive boutique hotels in the city.
“Do you like scotch?”
I blink at the posh, ultra-cosmopolitan bar on the ground floor of the hotel and turn to stare at him; “Are you serious? No offense, but have you seen how you look right now?” He looks like, well, he looks hot , but he also looks like he just went three rounds in a bareknuckle boxing match.
‘Cause, you know, he did.
He’s also still not wearing a damn shirt, and I’m hardly more appropriately dressed for this kind of place, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt. Logan just shrugs though; “Simple question, Archer. Scotch: yay or nay?”
I sigh; “Fine, yay. Very yay.”
“Great.” His grin widens, and he nods towards the glove compartment; “Pop that and grab it, and let’s go.”
Inside is a bottle of scotch that probably cost the same as at least a month or two of my rent. I’m opening my mouth to ask what the heck we’re doing, but he’s already hopping out of the car and tossing tossing keys to a valet as he yanks a t-shirt on.
“ Fine ”, I mutter as I snatch the bottle and step out; “Bringing your own booze to a bar? Little low-brow for a guy like you isn’t that Logan?”
He
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