15
| LOGAN |
Why the hell is Nicole still at the gym?
My gut’s telling me something’s wrong. I floor the gas pedal and tear through the parking lot, straight over to her SUV.
I’m still a few rows away when I see her.
She’s on the ground between the cars and that Kenny kid is fucking attacking her.
I screech to a halt and get out of the car. I need to cut across the lot by foot. It’ll get me there faster. At least I pray it will.
I’ve never run so fast in my life.
Never pushed past fear this paralyzing before.
There’s no weapon that I can see, but goddammit, he’s choking her. She’s still defending herself like a wild cat though. And every fierce blow she continues to land gives me hope.
Nicole’s a fighter. She’ll hold on until I get there.
Please let me get to her in time.
What feels like an eternity later, I ram my entire body into his, my only goal to take him out like a wrecking ball. The guy’s built like a tank, but I’ve got pure rage on my side.
I don’t just tackle him, I body blow him clear into a nearby car, denting it. And hopefully him as well in the process.
Two men from the small crowd rushing over to help jump in and restrain Kenny so I can run back to Nicole.
She’s already getting up when I get to her. “I’m okay,” she whispers jaggedly, her eyes struggling to focus as she grips the back of her head in pain.
“You’re not okay. He was choking you, Nicole.”
He could’ve killed her. The mere thought of that alone is enough to crush my heart in a punishing vise of pain so severe, getting it to keep pumping feels like a fucking miracle.
“Did he hit you? Are you in pain anywhere else?” I ask savagely, struggling—and failing—to hold my anger in check. It’s literally taking every ounce of my control not to go back over to Kenny and beat him to a bloody pulp.
Nicole keeps one hand securely wrapped around my wrist. “Don’t, Logan. I’m okay.”
The cops get here minutes later to arrest Kenny and an ambulance for Nicole arrives seconds after.
A trip to the E.R. seems like a given to me, but she keeps telling everyone she’s fine.
“Really,” she insists. “It’s not that bad. I’ve been hurt worse on a climb. All I want are some ice packs and a couple of ibuprofen.”
Clearly, she’s in shock and not thinking right.
I’d already told Derick to get my on-site physician over here so he can do a full examination on her, and thankfully, he arrives at the tail end of Nicole’s insane ice pack and ibuprofen suggestion.
“Oh no, not you again.”
If I wasn’t so worried about her right now, the fact that both doctor and patient just uttered that statement in stereo would’ve been pretty damn funny.
Right now, though, it’s all I can do to keep my shit together.
I pace and hover, fully ready to get a portable whole-body MRI unit over here to scan her. When they don’t ask for one, I welcome the chance for a third opinion from someone in the crowd who mentions he’s a retired combat medic with two decades of trauma medicine experience.
The longest hour of my life later, they each give her the medical all-clear to go home.
I breathe again for what feels like the first time all night then I go over and yank her keys from her hand. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Logan, I’m fine. You heard the EMTs. And the military medic. And your board-certified physician. Kenny didn’t manage to choke me for very long, and aside from a bruise on my cheek and a lump on the back of my head, I don’t have a scratch on me.”
I ignore the obviously head-traumatized crazy talk. “I’ve got five spare bedrooms, all full suites with their own bathrooms. Take your pick. Each is practically the size of your apartment.”
I’m not exaggerating. Nicole’s apartment is ridiculously small. The building security is shit. And most offensive of all, it’s clear on the other fucking side of town.
“Logan, I can’t stay with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“How would we possibly explain my spending the night to Hannah?”
“Easy. I’ll tell her that since she got to have a sleepover, I had one, too.”
A small, pained chuckle escapes her. “You’re not funny.”
“That’s the head injury talking, sweetheart. We both know I’m hilarious.” I carry her over to my car and buckle her up securely.
“We need to discuss this.”
“As far as I’m concerned, the only thing we’re discussing in your impaired mental state is if you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast. I’m okay waiting on you hand and foot for the first couple of days, but by next week, you’ll need to start pulling your weight with the cooking.”
She sighs. “You’re being impossible.”
Man, she really must have hit her head hard. I’m being a prince.
“What on earth are we going to tell Hannah?”
“Fine, we can tell her your house is being fumigated for some mutant bugs that will take time to get rid of.”
“We can’t lie to her.”
“Then I’ll make a call and make said infestation a reality.”
“Logan, be serious.”
I settle into the car beside her. “I’m being dead serious. I don’t want Hannah knowing you were attacked.” It would traumatize her for sure. “So, this will be like a Santa Claus lie. You lie to kids about Santa Claus, right? No ethical objection to that?”
She scowls at me. “I don’t like it when you out-argue me.”
“Feel free to blame your head injury and not my superior debating skills.” I lean over to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Rest and recover for a couple weeks at my place. We can pick up this argument after that.”
Then, to make absolutely certain this will go my way, I suppress all my natural tendencies and say, “I’m asking you here. For me. Will you please stay at my place until we know that Kenny’s locked up and unable to hurt you again? For my own peace of mind?”
A soft smile transforms her tired expression. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
Why the whole me-asking-instead-of-demanding thing can get her to agree to things is a mystery to me, but I’m grateful she’s finally seeing reason. “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’m going to take us the long way home. Less bumps in the road.”
She nods and starts to close her eyes.
When we’re about halfway out of the parking lot, however, her eyes blink back open. “Hey, how did you know to come find me at the gym?”
“I tracked your GPS location on your phone tonight.”
“Oh. I didn’t even know my phone could do that.”
“It can’t. Not unless you have a hacker looking for you. Or you happen to have the app I installed on your phone the other week. It’s the same one I have on Hannah’s phone.”
“I see.”
I expect her to be pissed that I lo-jacked her. Surprisingly, she’s not. And I’m wholly curious as to why. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”
“No,” she answers muzzily.
Is it totally screwed up that I’m a bit disappointed?
“I figure,” she says as she slowly starts sliding into sleep, “with me staying at your place, I’ll have plenty of opportunities.”
“To argue with me?” Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up how much that cheers me up.
“Nope.” She smiles. “To get even.”
Good lord, I’m crazy about this woman.