TWIN PASSIONS: (A Logan Brothers Novel) (15 page)

The room was fairly bare,
barring the desk and a set of sofas sitting opposite each other with
a glass coffee table in the middle. That was where I'd sat when she'd
first asked me to betray Cade.

The only other point of interest
was a tall filing cabinet lined up against the far wall. I walked
towards it and opened up the highest drawer. Inside were folders
lined up alphabetically with surnames and initials.

Albert, B

Ansbro, L, S

Aster, T

I searched quickly through the
files, hoping they'd be one marked Banks, M.
Use your head Gemma.
Why the hell would she keep a file on herself?

There wasn't. There was a Banks,
F, but on closer inspection it was someone totally unconnected to
her.

I stood for a moment, thinking,
before opening the second drawer down and looking through the lettered
sections.

L, that's what I was looking
for.

My curiosity was now spilling
over as I flicked through the names, searching for one in particular.
Yes, there it is.

Logan, C.

My heart rate quickened further
as I carefully pulled the file from the drawer. Was it Cade? Crash? No, it was Charles, their father. Of course it was.

The file was bigger than the
others, thick with papers and pictures. I walked over to the coffee
table and opened it up, my eyes searching frantically. I had no idea
what I was looking for, I was just looking, curious to find out more
about this man who Cade called 'dad', this man who'd only recently been
murdered.

I flicked through the files,
many of them articles relating to business ventures that Charles
Logan had been involved in. Martha Banks clearly had a heavy interest
in this man, and this file had obviously been compiled over many
years.

My eyes stopped on a smaller
folder inside marked 'personal'. It was hidden at the bottom, the
corners of the folder crumpled and creased. It looked old and worn,
as if it might split with too much heavy handling.

I carefully pulled it out and
opened it up to be greeted by an image at the top. There was a man
and a woman in the picture. They were hugging and looking over at the
camera, smiling wide and bright. I recognized the resemblance with
Cade and his brothers immediately.

But it wasn't a young Charles
Logan that really caught my eye. It was the woman he was hugging. She
looked about 15 years younger than she did now, her hair wavy and
dark, her smile pretty. She looked fresh and happy, her face
unhindered by the numerous botox injections and facial plastic
surgeries she'd had.

It was Martha Banks.

I moved the picture to the side
and was greeted by another, one of the two of them kissing on the
beach, and another of them eating dinner under the setting sun. They
were candid photos, personal photos, photos that I doubt anyone else
had ever seen.

Mingled in among the pictures of
the two of them were letters, love letters sent from him to her. The
more I read, the more it became clear in my head what I was seeing.

Martha Banks and Charles Logan
had had an affair long ago, one that seemed to go on for years going
by the dates on the letters and images. I knew it was an affair
because her husband had only died several years ago after a long
marriage, and Cade's dad had been with his wife until she passed when
he was a young teenager. So this must have been a secret romance, one
involving two married people, one I doubt anyone ever knew about.

It would be something that
Martha Banks would have kept hidden all her life, something she would
be desperate to keep from coming to the public's attention.

I turned my mind back to the
letters, my eyes skimming over them as the months and years went by.
They spoke of their secret love, their secret relationship, hidden
from everyone. Eventually, however, the letters grew more brief, more
infrequent, before doubts clearly began to creep into Charles Logan's
head.

He spoke of the guilt that was
building, how he loved his wife and wanted to stay with her. He had a
young family, and 5 boys who he needed to be there for. He couldn't
leave them for her, he couldn't choose her over his wife, his family.
He'd called a close to their relationship, ending their long affair,
and breaking Martha Banks' heart.

I began to understand who she
really was as I read through the letters and looked over the photos.
She'd loved him dearly and he'd broken her heart. Even though it was
a love built on betrayal and secrecy, she'd fallen deeply for him. It
had given her the hard edge she possessed today, the ruthless and
uncaring streak that had seen her rise to prominence in the years
that followed.

But I knew she'd never gotten
over it. I knew that from how she was so keen to find dirt on the
Logan's, even to this day. She'd recruited me to try to dig up dirt
on Cade, on Charles Logan's offspring. She clearly harbored a deep
resentment towards them. Ever since he'd chosen his family over her,
she'd wanted to see him suffer.

She was a broken woman, hurt
beyond repair, and now lost in her own hardened shell. She'd lived
alone with the truth for years, not telling anyone, keeping it all
bottled up.

But now I knew. Now I, too, knew
the truth.

Present Day

Zack

I woke up with a pounding
headache. The feeling had become pretty common for me over the last
few months, and even more so during the last week.

I should have been jumping out
of bed, excited, and a little nervous, for my twin brother. Tonight
he'd face the biggest fight of his life, the best opponent he'd ever
come up against. It was a massive opportunity for him to really stake
his claim on the title, and any normal brother would have been right
behind him every step of the way.

But I didn't feel normal
anymore. I felt broken.

I stepped out of bed and sunk
several painkillers to try to calm down the incessant beating in my
head. I had to man up and move past all of this, it was really eating
away at me. It was about a week ago now, since I stormed off after a
few minutes of light sparring with Cade, and I hadn't spoken to him
since.

He was probably wondering what
the fuck I was doing, why I was acting like a spoilt brat, throwing
my toys out of the pram and walking out on him when he needed my
help. If only I was honest and actually told him what was going on in
my head, he'd probably understand. But no, I just kept it all inside,
unwilling to reveal my insecurities to anyone.

Gemma was at the source of it
all. I couldn't help my feelings for her and yet there was nothing I
could do about them. Every time I saw her with him I felt this
constriction in my chest, this hopeless feeling that I could never
have her. It was something I'd always wanted, and now Cade had just
waltzed in, as he did, and taken her from under my nose.

I walked into my bathroom and
looked in the mirror. My eyes were dark and sullen, my hair unkempt
and wild. I could taste the smoke still lingering on the edge of my
tongue, remnants of yet another night spent smoking and drinking late
into the night.

It had to stop. Stop smoking,
stop partying, stop fucking random chicks.

I turned back to my bed to see a
thatch of hair splayed out over the duvet, an arm hanging down the
side of the bed. It was that girl Tess, the girl who was always
chasing me down. She was the third different girl I'd taken home this
week.

I walked out into my living
room. There were empty bottles of vodka and beer scattered
everywhere, the remains of a week of heavy drinking.

I was young, wealthy, and
powerful in my own way. I had dozens of women coming onto me every
night, a flash apartment in the center of town, and a large network
of family and friends, and, right now, a fucking hot girl in my bed.

So why the fuck wasn't it
enough?! What was my fucking problem?!

My phone started ringing loudly
somewhere over in the living room, stuck down the side of the sofa
where I'd fucked Tess the night before. I walked over and reached in,
dragging it out and picking it up without even looking at the number.

“
Yeah,” I said dryly. It
didn't seem to matter to me who it was.

“
Hey Zack, you sound
terrible!” The voice perked me up immediately. It was Gemma.

“
Oh hey Gem, sorry, yeah,
rough night. What's up?”

“
Oh nothing, I just wondered
if you wanted to grab a drink before the fight later on? It might be
nice to catch up and everything, get all excited for later.”

I shook the cobwebs out of my
head. “Oh yeah, that sounds great. Shall we meet near the arena?
Like 6ish?” I glanced at my watch. It was already nearing 2 PM.

“
Errr, yeah, 6 works well for
me.”

“
OK, great, I'll text you
where to meet.”

“
Cool, see you later,” she
finished, her voice excited and energetic.

I shut off the phone and threw
it back down onto the sofa, collapsing next to it.

“
Hey you,” I heard the voice
come from behind me.

I arched my neck to see Tess
come walking in, one of my shirts hanging down over the tops of her
thighs. She stumbled slightly as she got closer and giggled
drunkenly, before climbing on top of me, straddling my lap as I sat
there.

She started kissing my neck and
sucking on my earlobe, whispering something about repeating what we
did last night. But that was with the alcohol still dominating my
actions. Now I was sober, and wanted nothing to do with her.

“
Sorry babe,” I said
casually, “I think you should go.”

She leaned back and unbuttoned
the top of her shirt, revealing nothing but skin underneath. “Are
you sure?” she teased, her hand sliding down to my crotch.

I could feel myself hardening
against my wishes, thoughts of Gemma now shooting around in my head.
Suddenly this girl, pretty as she was, didn't seem all that appealing
to me.

I pulled her hand back up and
lifted her off me, standing up as I did. She was light as a feather,
her slim frame not carrying the curves I liked.

“
Sorry Tess,” I really do
have things to do.

Her expression turned to one of
anger and disappointment as she turned and huffed back towards my
bedroom, storming off like a child. A moment later she came back out,
glaring at me through evil eyes as she pulled her skimpy dress back
over her pink underwear.

I couldn't help but laugh inside
at the sight of her storming around like a child. It was kinda
pathetic the way she'd behave when she wasn't getting what she
wanted. I guess, in a way, I was doing the same.

I watched on as she walked out
and slammed the door, ready to complete the walk of shame back to her
dorm room on the other side of town.

It was time for me to get past
all this shit. Tonight would be a new beginning. I'd support my
brother as he fought for his future. I'd be behind him every step of
the way.

Present Day

Gemma

I sat waiting patiently in a bar
near Stadmore Arena. Zack had chosen sensibly, picking a place near
enough to get to the arena quickly, but not so near that it would be
filled with people preparing to watch the fight with a couple of
drinks.

My mind was still battling the
various revelations that had fallen into my lap recently as I sat
there waiting. Well, 'fallen into' might be the wrong way of putting
it. On both occasions I'd actively been trespassing, in Cade's
apartment, and in Martha Banks' office.

But whatever the case, both were
gnawing at my mind, and I was having some difficulty knowing exactly
what to do with them. The great irony was that what I'd found out
about Martha Banks was exactly the sort of thing I'd been looking
for; the sort of thing I could use as leverage against her.

However, there were two
problems. Firstly, as much as I wanted to rise to the challenge and
show Mrs Banks what sort of person I could be, it just wasn't me to
act like that. And frankly, I didn't think myself unusual for not
finding it easy sticking the knife in someone's back, even if that
person had effectively done something similar to me.

The second problem was that the
entire thing was incriminating for Cade and Zack's father. If
anything came out about it, it would drag Charles Logan's name
through the mud, tainting their memories of him. I couldn't do that
to them, not for the sake of my own career.

And the other secret I was now
privy to, even though no one knew it? Well that was something so much
more serious, so much more perilous. We were talking murder here,
murder and revenge. It was something I truly wish I'd never heard,
something that I'd done my best to erase from my memory. But it had
been little more than a week since I'd found out, and it still
weighed heavy on my mind.