Page 49 of Bulletproof Weeks

“That means shit these days.”

Zeke scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m just going to sit down and not say anything since both pep talks and tough love are obviously not working.”

“Good.” And because he couldn’t stand himself he walked down the hall to the stairs and shot through the door. He climbed the stairs two at a time to the roof. Atlas Records was in the theater district and overlooked the edges of Central Park.

Busy streets glittered with a sheen of rain and the marching ants of yellow cabs pushing their way around streets bulging with too many people. Spring fever was officially upon most of New York. Everyone wanted out, rain or not.

He leaned on the brick ledge and let the misty rain soak into him. He was pretty sure he’d set of some sort of alarm. There were far too many people that still got bad news at this agency. Creative types, both on the stage and behind it, were still prone to a swan dive to make a statement. But he’d never been the kind to think that death was the way out.

He turned away from city and found three security people at the doorway. “Just getting some air.”

“You can’t be up here, sir.”

“All right, no need to get twitchy.” The kid looked positively terrified, but Logan followed him to the elevator without another word. When the doors opened on six, Zeke was waiting with a smile.

“Fucking jackpot.”

Logan strode down the hall. Charlie was outside the office shaking hands with a trio of people that Logan knew still had the power to make or break careers. The woman in the icy gray suit turned to him and gave him a small nod before she disappeared back into the office.

He smiled for the first time since that morning. Belinda Atlas liked their shit. Fuckin’ A.

Charlie turned to him. “Where have you been hiding that gold, King?”

“Winchester Falls, man.”

“Well get back there and soak up more magic. Last week in April we take to the late night talk show circuit and heavy radio rotation.”

Zeke mimed a three-point basket. “Hell, yeah.”

“Get some rest boys. It’s time for old Charlie to work his mojo now.”

He checked in with Izzy and allowed himself to get swept up into talk of celebration and a visit to a club on Broadway. Four hours later he was deposited onto a small airstrip where a helicopter waited for him.

Logan had just enough good whiskey running through his veins to make a production of his return. He texted Izzy when he was twenty minutes out from their cabin. It wasn’t his any longer. The cabin was theirs and he wanted to celebrate with his woman.

He’d checked in with Marcus and Aimee was still located at some party village in the Mediterranean. Tonight would be nothing but them.

If she’d have him.

She stood in the soft glow of the lights of his backyard as the helicopter landed on the rarely used helipad on the edges of his property. He signed off on the pilot’s papers and hopped out.

The whirling blades kicked up remnants of snow and mud from the March thaw. Nothing mattered but getting across the yard to her. She had her arms crossed with a huge cardigan protecting her from the late night air.

He stopped at the edge of the slate stonework that ringed his pool area and slowly walked up the steps. This was what he wanted for the rest of his days. Izzy waiting in the welcoming light.

He didn’t want the darkness anymore.

When he got to the top step, she gave him a half smile and he crushed her to him, lifting her off her feet. “Damn, I love you.”

She hooked her arm around his shoulders. “That was quite the entrance.”

“I had good news.”

Her eyes were shining in the warm glow of home. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” He caught her mouth in a hot, wild kiss and carried her inside. Things were looking up and that’s what he was going to focus on.

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