Dirty Together (The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy #3)(7)


by Meghan March

He made his point when he eyed the shotgun hanging above the front door, and when he delivered his final warning. “That girl is one of the good ones. Don’t make her cry, or I’ll be forced to step in and take action. I consider her family.”

My explanations placated him enough for him to tell me exactly where she went. Back to the small town she came from is about the last place I would have thought to look, so I owe Thrasher. But I don’t owe this asshole anything.

Logan narrows his eyes on me. “This conversation ain’t done.” He jerks his head toward the car door. “But it can wait.”

I look at the car as well, and see Holly passed out against the window. Shit.

“You know how to get to her gran’s place?” he asks, clearly deducing the problem I’m facing as soon as I do.

It’s with annoyance I admit that I don’t have a clue. He’s in the middle of giving me directions when Holly rouses and knocks on the window.

Fuck. I recognize that look. I unlock the door and pull it open just in time for Holly to lean her head out and puke on the gravel. I step around the door and gather her hair into a messy ponytail behind her head. A car door opens and shuts nearby, but I’m not paying attention to anything but Holly.

Logan reappears, crouching just out of range of the vomit as he holds a bottle of water to her lips.

Given the caveman tendencies that spring to life every time I’m around Holly, I should be pissed to see another man helping take care of her, but I’m not. I’m grateful because taking care of her is the only thing that matters right now, not the pissing contest I was engaging in. It’s amazing how simple things become when priorities are highlighted so brilliantly.

When she’s finished drinking and puking and drinking again, I smooth Holly’s hair away from her face and tuck it behind her shoulder. She sits back in the seat of the Cadillac and looks from me to Logan.

“I’m confused. And drunk.” Her gaze swings back to me. “How the hell are you here? Why?”

“I think that conversation is best saved for when you’ll actually remember what I say.”

“Good. I don’t know what to say yet . . .” Her words trail off as her eyes slide shut.

Fuck.

I snap my attention to Logan. “What the fuck did you do to her? I’ve never seen her like this.”

“She was trying to forget about you.”

His words are like a jab to my gut. I exhale sharply, physically feeling the effects of the verbal sucker punch.

“Well, that isn’t fucking happening because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your choice, man, but if a woman asks me for space, I tend to give it to her if the alternative is pushing her away by refusing to give her what she needs.”

“What is it with rednecks and their fucking need to dispense backwoods wisdom today?”

“I’d resent that if you hadn’t just acknowledged that they’re wise words.”

I didn’t mean to imply that, but this Logan guy is apparently smarter than he looks.

Holly slumps sideways, on the verge of falling out of the seat, and we both reach out a hand to steady her. He snatches his back when I shoot him a sharp look. Carefully, I sit Holly upright in the seat and close the door. Once she’s situated, I turn to him.

That thought about my inner caveman calming down? Total bullshit. I need to make something clear to him before I drive out of here. And considering Holly needs to be in bed five minutes ago, I’ll make it clear without wasting any time.

“You see that ring on her finger? That means she’s not fair game, unless that’s the kind of guy you are.”

Logan’s head jerks back, and his eyes narrow. “I ain’t lookin’ to poach. I respect that you took vows, but I also know that you don’t have a good track record of keeping ’em.”

Rage boils through me, and I fight the urge to plant my fist in his face. Age-old instinct has me stepping toward him until an old man comes shuffling through the parking lot and inserts his cane between us.

“All right now, boys. Time to get ’em out and measure, or get on home.”

“I think I’ll take the latter,” I say.

I’m pretty sure I hear Logan mumble something about me losing in a dick-measuring contest, but the old man is already speaking again and holding up a purse I recognize as Holly’s.

“You know where her gran’s house is?” the old man asks me.

“Mostly.” Logan’s instructions were cut off midway through.

The old man nods. “You just need to take a right, go a half mile, and it’s the first house on the left after the power lines. If you hit the railroad tracks, you’ve gone too far.”

His decidedly country directions are easy enough. He holds the purse up higher. “This is hers.”

“Thank you,” I say, reaching out to grab it, but the old man jerks it back before I can.

“You take care of that girl, or I’ll have your balls in a sling.”

Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t even know what that means, but it’s the third threat I’ve received today.

Snatching the purse out of his hand, I nod. “Duly noted.” I turn for the car, but Logan isn’t quite done yet.

“Her bedroom is the one at the top of the stairs. You can’t miss it.” His words are tinged with triumph, and once again I want to put him on his ass in this gravel parking lot.

“I don’t want to know why you fucking know that.” My voice comes out rough and deep, and I almost don’t recognize it.

Logan smirks and tucks one thumb into the pocket of his jeans. “Calm down, rich boy. It ain’t like I popped her cherry.”

Why he’s choosing to bait me now, I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care. I also don’t want to drag my lawyer out to Bumfuck, Egypt, to bail me out of jail, even if the charges are justifiable homicide. So I take the high road; I threaten him.

“You do know I can afford to make you disappear, right?” I round the car and reach for the driver’s side handle, pausing in anticipation of his response.

Logan leans against a black truck parked next to the Cadillac, and I’d bet my jet it’s his. “Out here, a man does his own killin’ and buryin’. I know miles of mine shaft where you’d never be found,” he drawls.

I straighten and take his measure. “I get that you’re a cocky son of a bitch, but what’s your angle here?”