Logan and I were sitting in the kitchen eating blueberry muffins and drinking juice and playing on our phones. I loved my new phone. It was by far the best phone I've ever had - which wouldn't be hard, considering I've only ever had one before this and it was cheap and nasty. But this was a seriously awesome phone.
Subconsciously, my hand went to the sore spot on my leg where Logan had whacked me, and I absently rubbed at it.
"That can't actually still hurt," Logan said, mocking me. "Stop being dramatic."
"I'm not!" I whined. "It does! You hit me really hard!"
Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, ages ago. Get over it."
I pouted, but broke off another bit of my muffin and put it into my mouth, and sent another Snap to my new besties. Blondie upsetting me so I got sent home was the talk of the school, apparently. Not that I even got sent home. More like I left. I'll have to address those rumors tomorrow. I was starting to think that perhaps being in the Mafia was a handy thing. I could use my brother's power and influence to scare the living crap out of people like Blondie. I could threaten them with all sorts of horrific crimes, and they'd probably believe me, once they knew who my brothers were. I smiled smugly. Maybe having brothers in the Mafia wasn't such a bad thing after all?
"What are you grinning at?" Logan asked me, peering over my shoulder at my phone screen.
"That Melissa girl is a bitch. Is that who caused you problems today?"
I nodded my head. "If you're talking about the blonde girl, then yes. If she's such a bitch, why don't you sort her out? Use your Mafia connections?"
Logan looked at me, amused and annoyed. "That's not how it works," he said. "Damon would kill me if I did anything like that. The peace he and Alex negotiated with the rival families would be over in a heartbeat if I tried anything like that."
"Oh." I nodded my head as if I understood, but the truth was, I didn't have a clue. Peace negotiations? Rival families? I had no idea what any of that meant.
"And don't you try it, either," he warned me. "It will not end well for you if you do; Damon would not be happy."
"Why?" I asked. "I don't understand. What good is it you guys being in the Mafia if I can't use it to my advantage?"
"Talk to Damon if you want answers, I don't have them. But I do know that if you try to use the Mafia to intimidate or threaten anyone, Damon will be pissed."
"Oh." I swallowed. "I don't like it when he's pissed."
Logan snorted. "You haven't even seen him pissed, yet."
"I have too!" I insisted. "He was plenty pissed the day Nick took me shopping and Damon shot that guy in the carpark."
Again, Logan snorted. "That wasn't pissed," he said. "That was only mildly displeased. So if that scared you, you really don't want to piss him off."
I played with the rest of my muffin, lost in thought. I didn't know what to do with all this newfound knowledge, and part of me wished I didn't know it. Because now that I knew, I couldn't un-know, and I couldn't think of any possible advantages to knowing. Now that Logan had put the kibosh on me using the Mafia to terrify people who crossed me, that was.
I sculled back the rest of my juice and picked at my muffin some more. I was restless. I don't really know what I wanted, but it surely wasn't this: sitting here picking at food I didn't want to eat, pretending everything was all perfectly okay when it totally wasn't. I hated that my brothers had all essentially abandoned me, after flipping my life on its head.
"Can you take me into the forbidden wing? Now that I know all the secrets?" I asked Logan hopefully, crossing my fingers behind my back where he couldn't see, for luck.
Logan smirked, then shook his head. "Nope. Do you think I have some kind of death wish? All five of them would kick the shit out of me in the gym if I took you in there."
"Please?" I begged. "What have you got to hide? I know you're Mafia now, I don't see why I can't go in there."
Logan glared at me. "Are you bored? Is that why you're annoying me?"
Perhaps he was joking, in that sibling-banter way that I didn't quite understand, but it hurt. I was upset and offended that he found me annoying, especially after the shock of the afternoon. Right now, I just wanted some sympathy and kindness.
"I'm going to tell on you for hitting me," I said. A look of panic flashed across his face just briefly, but after a second his face was an expressionless mask.
"Go ahead," he said. He acted like he totally didn't care, but I could tell by the rigid tension in his body and his clenched jaw, that he totally did. He was terrified.
"I will," I told him smugly. Feeling as restless and unsettled and unhappy as I was, I wanted to get him back for hurting my feelings, and this was the only way I knew how to do it. Jack, especially, was very protective of me. I knew he wouldn't take kindly to Logan slapping me hard enough to leave handprints.
I texted him: Is Logan allowed to hit me?
Within a few seconds, the reply came back: Of course not. What happened? Where are you? I'll be there soon.
I told him we were in the kitchen and not two minutes later, I heard Jack's heavy footsteps coming closer. I sneaked a peek at Logan. He was acting nonchalant, but he swallowed hard and focused his gaze firmly on his muffin. He was scared. Good! Let him be scared.
"Where did he hit you?" Jack demanded, striding into the room.
"Here." I lifted up my skirt to show Jack the fading but still perfect imprint of Logan's hand on my skin.
Jack touched it, running his fingers over the outline gently. "When did he do that?"
This wasn't exactly going to plan. I was expecting him to threaten Logan, or punch him or something, but so far, he wasn't. He hadn't acknowledged Logan at all.
"Before," I said, deliberately vague.
"When before? Elaborate, Carrie." Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned down at me sternly. I swallowed hard. He was intimidating and scary when he looked at me like that.
"In the car driving home," I told him quietly. "He hit me really hard!"
"I can see that," Jack said. "But why are you telling me this now? When I got your text I thought he'd just hit you now. But if it was so long ago, why didn't you say something earlier? Like when you first got home? Why did you drag me out of my office to tell me now?"
I snuck a quick glance across at Logan and he was smirking. Asshole!
"She's telling you now because she's trying to get me in trouble because I wouldn't take her into the left wing. She's mad at me."
I turned to him and glared, but he ignored me completely.
"Is that true?" Jack asked me, his stern stare getting even darker and more terrifying.
"Doesn't matter," I mumbled. "I'm going to my room. Get out of my uniform." I got down off my stool and tried to push past Jack but he caught my arm and sat me back down on the stool.
"Not so fast, missy. I want to know what's going on."
"I told you!" I said loudly. "Logan hit me! And you're not even going to do anything about it. That's so typical." I was angry now, and I didn't care who knew it.
"Oh?" Jack raised his brow at me in that infuriating way my brothers had. "And how is it typical?"
"Never mind." I jumped down again and went the other way this time, around Logan, but Jack walked after me and caught me after a couple of steps, grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.
Damn. My plan was backfiring majorly.
"Stop smirking. Asshole." I glared at Logan fiercely, but all it did was make him grin.
"Oi! Language!" Jack chided
"Let me go!" I yelled.
Jack shook his head. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on. You interrupted my work to tell me that Logan hit you, but you won't tell me why."
"You didn't ask why!" I yelled, pulling back against him. "Genius! All you did was complain at me for interrupting your precious work! Well if it's so precious, go back to it then and leave me alone!" I was so angry I couldn't even think straight. Acting purely on instinct, I balled my hand up into a fist and threw it against Jack's chest as hard as I could.
But before my punch landed, Jack caught my wrist and slapped the back of my hand so hard it took my breath away. Jack hit me! He actually hit me! My Jacky, my favorite brother. I could hardly believe it. Tears sprang into my eyes but I blinked them back.
I couldn't breathe for a full five seconds, and when I could focus again, the back of my hand was red and stinging and Jack looked absolutely terrifying.
"You know better than to speak to me like that, Carrie. Stop yelling, and don't you ever try to hit me again." Jack spoke quietly, but coldly. Chills went down my spine.
I was frozen to the spot, too afraid to move. That has not gone to plan at all. How had it all gone so wrong?
"Logan, why did you hit her?" Jack asked, sounding more curious than stern.
"I'm not a nark," Logan said. "Ask her."
Like I had tried to do, he got down off his stool and left the room, but he got all the way to the door before Jack called him back. I think he was going to keep walking, but he hesitated, stepped forward, then stopped and turned around.
"Now," Jack warned, a clear threat in his voice. Logan rolled his eyes, but he did come and sit back down. When he was within arms reach, Jack slapped him on the back of the head.
"You might still be in trouble yet, little brother, so I suggest you watch the attitude."
This time, I didn't stick up for Logan.
"Tell me why you hit her," Jack ordered Logan firmly. "Tell me right now, or you'll be grounded this weekend. Say goodbye to that party you want to go to."
Party? Why wasn't I invited to this party?
Logan sighed. "She was being a brat in the car when I was bringing her home. Yelling, hitting me, punching me. I would have just stopped on the side of the road, but we had no security and Damon specifically said to bring her home as quickly as possible." He glared at me. "Check the cameras if you don't believe me."
Jack raised an eyebrow at me, clearly unhappy with what he'd just heard. "I never said I don't believe you, Logan," he said. "I know you're not a liar." He turned to me. "I am going to get Damon to check the cameras in Logan's car, though. You should know not to hit someone when they're driving. It can cause a crash," he scolded.
"Logan's car has cameras in it?" I asked in disbelief, but nobody answered me. Of course there are cameras in the car. There's cameras everywhere else; why wouldn't they be in the car that Logan drives, too? How else are they going to spy on him?
I pouted, folded my arms in front of me and tried to scowl in a perfect impression of Rocco. Logan's smirk told me I failed.
Jack sat me back on the stool and texted Damon, and within a couple of minutes Damon was in the kitchen with us, and he was bringing up the cameras from Logan's car on his laptop.
Oh hell. This was not going to be good.