Chapter Three

"Is the tree dead?"

Logan had been punching the bark of the slender tree for a good five minutes. Veronica could see from where she leaned against the car that Logan had made a bloody mess of his hands, working out his anguish. Nothing she had been able to say or do had persuaded him to calm down and she was resigned to letting it play out, merely ensuring he didn't kill himself, or anyone else. Particularly her.

So her question, laconically stated, was not as flippant as it sounded. She was waiting for his anger to be spent and right now, it was focused on that tree and the pain it caused him; the pain from which he drew some perverse comfort. She had felt the need to do something similar when her mother had refused to come home with her in Barstow, refused to explain why.

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There is something very frightening about a crowd that is silent. As Logan's voice died away, not a sound could be heard. Veronica was the only one who moved, getting to Logan, pulling him away. Unlike the struggle to get to him, the crowd parted as she led him away, eyes staring, eyes looking away, all shocked, or perhaps titillated, by the events they had witnessed. Veronica spoke softly to Logan throughout, encouraging, persuading him onwards.

No one tried to stop them.

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He stopped.

"Logan?"

Logan had not said a word since threatening his father and when he raised his head, Veronica could see that he still wasn't ready for words.
She knew she didn't have the resources to deal with what really irked him but she could at least do something about his hands. Veronica led him back to the car.

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Backup barked in welcome as Veronica opened the door to #110 of the Sunset Cliffs Apartments. She knelt down to give the dog a quick pat and a soothing word before turning back to her guest.

"Sit there," she instructed, pointing at the small couch.

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The pile of blood-soaked cotton pads grew as Veronica tended to Logan's knuckles. The antiseptic did more than clean the torn flesh, it brought Logan back to his senses and he watched carefully as Veronica finished. He looked at his bandaged hands ruefully.

"Well, I won't be playing the piano again any time soon."

"Yeah, but that's one tree that won't be bothering anyone for a while."

Veronica's smile faded as she added, "Do you want me to take you home?"

"Home." He laughed bitterly. "Now there's a concept."

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Veronica couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned and finally pulled herself out of her bed, as the water comprising its mass gently sloshed around. She needed a drink and if she tiptoed, she should be able to get one without waking Logan, crashed on the couch. She was well covered in her sensible pyjamas and she'd be quick.

Veronica opened her bedroom door and took two steps forward. She froze for only a second at the sound of his sobs before running to him.

"Sshh, sshh," she softly breathed, holding him close with one arm. As once before, Logan's head rested on her shoulder and breast, and he held her tightly. Veronica's free hand was stroking his hair. His sobs had subsided and he luxuriated in the feeling of comfort spreading through him. Comfort and something else. Logan could feel the soft swell of Veronica's breast on his cheek, could feel her nakedness beneath the loose pyjamas. He too was naked but for his boxers and that knowledge was having a powerful effect on his senses.

"Damn it," he thought, "I hate this girl."

She smelled so good.

Veronica felt Logan's hands lessen their grip. But instead of removing them from her sides, they gently, subtlety, started to stoke her. Veronica felt a clench in the pit of her stomach as her hand continued to stroke Logan's head and she unconsciously matched his rhythm.

She hadn't stopped him. He grew bolder and let his hands drop to the hem of her pyjama top. Through his cheek, he could feel one nipple harden as his fingers lifted the hem and slid underneath. The pain in his hands was insignificant when her skin was so warm, almost hot, and as smooth as silk. He slowly let one hand trail up whilst the other made soft circles at her waist. Logan raised his head and looked at Veronica.

Eyes closed, Veronica felt Logan's head lift. She moaned softly at the loss of weight on her breast and opened her eyes. Logan was staring at her lips and bending towards them. Veronica didn't let him finish his descent. With an impatience that surprised her, Veronica darted forward to meet him.

Logan had meant for the kiss to be gentle but Veronica's urgency had overridden his caution. The kiss was hard, intense. Logan's tongue had invaded her mouth as soon as their lips had touched. Veronica's tongue was no less searching. It was as if both needed to exorcise some demon, and this was the only way. The kiss deepened and yet softened, as they explored each other's mouth with a thoroughness borne of desperation.

When Logan spread the hand that rested just under her armpit and touched her nipple with his thumb, Veronica jerked as if a surge of electricity had passed through her. Logan broke off the kiss and pulled his hand out from under her top, but only so he could undo the buttons and remove the damn thing. He exposed her breasts and bent down to take one hard nipple between his teeth. Veronica gasped and gripped his arm tightly.

Logan shifted and lifted Veronica onto his lap, her legs falling either side of him. She was the toughest girl he had ever known and yet she was as light as a spirit and he could do this without leaving the sweetness of her breasts. But now he wanted to return his attention to her lips and pulled her head down to his. With the other hand, he trailed his fingers down her spine, further and further. Like the bandages on his hands, the elastic waistband of her pyjamas was no obstacle to his progress and he sighed contently as he cupped her naked bottom and pressed her closer to the centre of his own passion.

Veronica was no less active. She bit Logan's lower lip and escaped the hand on her head to go on her own journey. She let her tongue linger of a moment on his mouth, then swept it across his cheek, stopping at the lobe of his ear. She sucked it into her mouth and bit gently, and was rewarded by Logan's groan. She let go and press her lips to the flesh on his neck, her tongue making soft circles on his skin. Her hands played on his chest, alternatively kneading and stoking the muscles until her mouth reached his nipple.

Logan threw back his head as Veronica's lips drove him crazy. He still had his hand on her ass and now with the other, he gripped her upper thigh. He moved his thumb and stroked the soft, and now very damp, cloth between her legs.

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Veronica had never let herself dwell on the rape. There was no blessing in it but at least being raped whilst unconscious meant that she didn't have to live with the images and the sounds and the smells of the terror. All she had was what she imagined and she had resolutely refused to let herself do that. Which worked to an extent but for those times when she couldn't control her imagination – in her dreams. Veronica wasn't dreaming now but neither was she in control. As Logan's thumb explored her and sent her into a spasm of involuntary shivering, the images of her imagination came unbidden and pierced her soul.

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Logan was fully dressed by the time she came out of the bathroom. She had dry heaved for some moments and was grateful that with all the events of the night, she hadn't had a chance to eat. She was pale but collected when she faced Logan.

"I'm sorry. I'll take you home."

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It was dawn by the time Veronica pulled up outside the Echolls' mansion. Logan had resumed the silence of the night before, although Veronica could see the vein throbbing in his temple. He was angry and he had every right to be but she could not tell him why she had abruptly ended their lovemaking. She could not tell him that the feelings he had released had taken her back to Shelly Pomroy's party, to waking up without her panties. Had she had those feelings before? Had her body been so wanton? Was she a slut? Rationally, Veronica knew that was ridiculous but in Logan's arms she had not been rational.

She turned to him as he made no effort to move.

"Logan, I-"

"Shut up, Veronica. God. No wonder you sent Duncan nutty. He was well rid of you. And so am I."

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Keith could smell the freshly brewed coffee as he entered the apartment. He saw his daughter sitting on the couch, staring into space, gripping a mug but not drinking. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Honey! What's wrong."

Keith took the mug, set it down and enfolded Veronica in his arms. She cried.

She didn't tell him everything, of course. The edited highlights, the parts that wouldn't send him on a gun spree. Keith knew there was more. His instinct told him there was a lot more but that she wasn't ready to tell him.

"Honey, I can put this off, you know. We could go and get ice cream sundaes and go to the zoo…"

"I love you, but we need the money, Dad. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you know me, I'm the bounce back kid!"

Keith kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, you are."

He left.

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Keith had left the television on and Veronica bent down to switch it off. She paused as the newscaster's words sunk in.

"We confirm our breaking story. Aaron Echolls, star of Hair Trigger and other blockbusters, was attacked last night and is reportedly near death at Neptune Memorial Hospital. And we have just learned that his son, Logan Echolls, is being held at the Sheriff's Department."