by CP Smith
“Jamie, did he vio—” Logan couldn’t bring himself to say the word.
“He didn’t have time,” she whispered, “but her shirt was torn open.”
Logan squeezed his eyes shut to control his rage. “Where did they take her?” His voice matched hers. He could barely speak as images of Skylar’s battered and bruised body invaded his mind. When he’d lost his brothers, he’d kept his composure. He’d been all business and carried out his orders without question, until he was alone. But he was crippled where he kneeled. Unable to move. Skylar had become his world in the blink of an eye, and he couldn’t function at the mere thought of her being injured. He had to pull it together.
“Deaconess Hospital in Bozeman. They left by chopper less than ten minutes ago.”
Ty walked in and stared at Logan. His face was pale, but rage clouded his features. It was time to shake off the shock so he could handle the aftermath. After a deep breath to clear his head, Logan’s training kicked into autopilot and he stood. All business now, he moved toward his truck with Ty following. “Call the school and get Jake and Josh to the hospital. I’m headed to Bozeman now. Keep Max at the bar until I return.”
“Jordan called the school as soon as the 911 call went out. Jake and Josh took Skylar’s truck and are headed there now.”
“Fuck, Jamie, they’re in no state to drive.”
“They grabbed her keys and were gone before I knew what happened. I would have taken them myself, but I can’t leave until a deputy arrives and takes my statement about what happened.”
“Christ, you’re the one who found her?”
“I’d taken Max for a walk. When we got back . . . Max freaked out and attacked the guy before I knew what was happening.” She lost it again and began crying uncontrollably. “Oh, God, Logan, what if she doesn’t make it?”
“Jamie,” Logan said her name gently, but she didn’t respond. Seconds later the phone was pulled from his hand and Ty began murmuring softly as they climbed inside his cab and took off.
Logan spent the first half hour praying while Ty calmed Jamie down. Once he was done and hung up the phone, neither man spoke, and the silence in the cab was deafening. Neither would say the words they were thinking: what if Skylar dies?
The landscape passed them by in a blur. He neither noted nor cared that the stark contrast between the snow and the deep green of the pines was beautiful as the rolling hills and mountains gave way to flatter pastureland the closer they got to Bozeman. All Logan could think about was it had taken him twenty-eight years to finally be where he was supposed to be. To find who God had designed specifically for him, and it could all be taken away from him.
It took just over an hour to reach the hospital. Logan had broken the speed limit by twenty miles per hour the whole way and hadn’t encountered a single trooper. When he rolled to a stop in front of the emergency room, he’d barely put the truck in park before he barreled out of it and ran inside. You needed a number to speak with the admitting nurse, but Logan ignored the instructions and rushed to the window, demanding, “Take me to Skylar James.”
“Sir, you’ll have to take a seat and wait your—”
He didn’t have time for red tape. He needed to see for himself Skylar was still alive, so he put both hands on the counter and dove through the opening as the nurse cried out and dodged his body. He hit the ground and rolled then got to his feet. He began searching frantically for the tiny woman who had come to mean everything to him. Techs and doctors moved aside as he prowled the hallway like a caged animal, throwing back curtains as he went, ignoring surprised patients’ gasps. Security showed within minutes with their hands resting on their weapons. Logan ignored them both and turned his attention to one of the doctors watching him.
“Where is Skylar James?”
“Sir, you need to come with us,” a security officer stated.
“Take me . . . to Skylar James,” he ordered on a growl, whipping out his badge from his hip pocket. “NOW!”
A middle-aged nurse with kind eyes stepped forward, while the rest stared at him in fear. She said, “Follow me,” and Logan moved, glaring at the rest of the staff as he left. “She’s in surgery for a lacerated spleen. You can wait in the surgical waiting room with the rest of her family. The doctor will be out to speak with you once the surgery is complete.”
The adrenaline that kept him going crashed the moment he knew Skylar was still alive. He followed the nurse on sluggish legs as he rapid-fired questions at her.
“Will she lose her spleen?”
“It depends on how bad the tear is.”
“Did she ever regain consciousness?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“What is her prognosis?”
“We’ll have to wait and see if she wakes up after surgery. She’s on a ventilator until the swelling in her throat reduces and she can breathe on her own. We won’t know if there is damage to her larynx until we extubate her after she wakes up. It’s a waiting game at this point. We’ll know more once she’s out of surgery.”
They entered a waiting room with muted colors and stiff furniture meant to hold up to years of wear and tear as families waited for news about their loved ones. Jake and Josh were both sitting next to each other when Logan entered. Josh stood first and then Jake followed. Logan made his way over to them on swift feet. Josh looked ready to crumble and Jake looked ready to explode. And he did the second Logan was close enough. Logan didn’t try to dodge him, he’d promised both brothers when he dropped them off at school that he’d make sure Skylar was safe, and he’d broken that promise. When the nurse gasped, Logan raised his hand to stop any interference and waited. Jake drew back his arm again, ready to punch Logan a second time, and he still didn’t try stop him. He deserved it. He welcomed the pain. It was his job to keep Skylar safe and he’d let them all down. But Jake never released his second punch. He held it still as he scowled back at Logan, tears filling his green eyes. Logan ignored his hatred, grabbed Jake around the neck, and yanked him into his body. Then he grabbed Josh and wrapped both brothers in a tight embrace.
“She’s gonna be fine,” Logan assured them, praying he was right. “She fought like hell to live. She won’t be down for long.”
Neither said a word while they allowed Logan to give them his strength. He couldn’t imagine what was going through their heads after losing both parents, but he had a pretty good idea. Skylar was their world as well. She was their touchstone. If anything happened to her, they would be lost, same as Logan.
“What if she’s not?” Josh finally asked.
Logan released them both so they could gain back their composure. “There’s no what-ifs, Josh. She’s gonna be fine. But if you need reassurance, know I’m not going anywhere. If the worst happens, you’ll have me in your life for as long as you need me. I won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t want.”
The stiffness in Josh’s shoulders relaxed. He was a man but still part boy. Of the two, he was the one who would be most affected, and Logan had no doubt it scared the kid. If God forbid something did happen to Skylar, Logan would file for custody to make sure Josh never went into the system like he had. That had been Skylar and her father’s biggest fear, and Logan would honor them both if it came to that.
“How long has she been in surgery?”
Jake looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “A little over an hour. They said it would take three to four hours.”
Three hours felt like fucking eternity. Logan had the overwhelming need to move and to keep moving until Skylar was out of surgery. He couldn’t stay there and stare at the door, wondering when the doctor would walk through it. He needed to do something before he exploded.
Ty walked into the waiting room with his phone to his ear. His presence gave Logan the freedom he needed to expend some of the pent-up anger and energy, so he offered to buy everyone lunch as an excuse to escape. He didn’t wait for a response, just nodded at Ty and turned on his heel and got the hell out of the
re.
Logan wound around the hospital until he found an exit in the back, then slammed through the door and turned the corner until he was out of view from any staff or patients. He let out a ragged breath then inhaled deeply, trying to fill lungs that seemed empty. He kept walking and breathing deep, sucking in air that felt too thick to breathe until he was next to the hospital’s loading docks. Dumpsters lined the back filled with trash, their load bursting from the top, so Logan marched up to the closest one and threw a punch. Then another and another until he couldn’t feel his hands. He recognized the tortured sounds spilling from his mouth as he landed his strikes. He’d heard the same noises over a year ago when his friends had died. They came from his soul. Deep and agonized. They had to be purged or they would consume him from the inside out.
He collapsed to his ass when he was done, his chest heaving from exertion. Closing his eyes against the sun, Logan tried to block out images of Skylar with a tube down her throat fighting to live. Of her broken hand and torn shirt where a monster had tried to take her dignity as well as her life. His hand curled into a fist, but there was no one he could exact his anger on except himself. Max had taken care of it for Logan, stealing his vengeance while saving her life. The war dog would be dining on steak for the rest of his life.
Logan stayed on the ground until he was sure he wasn’t in danger of losing it again, then found a sandwich shop near the hospital and bought everyone lunch.
When he returned to the waiting room, half the town of Ennis filled every chair. Some he knew, others he’d never encountered. Everyone turned to look at him the moment he stepped inside, but no one approached. They said nothing about his bloodied knuckles when he laid the sacks of food on a table. A nurse offered to get him Band-Aids and ointment, but he shrugged her off. He wanted the pain. It drowned out a voice in his head that whispered, What if she dies?
Other than her brothers, most kept a wide berth from him. Jamie approached briefly and gave him a hug, then ended up with Ty’s arm draped around her shoulders. Kenzie arrived with her son, looking frazzled and lost, an hour later than everyone else. Jordan waved her over and they hugged, seemingly friends now rather than enemies. Skylar’s staff huddled in a corner with red eyes. The mayor stood to the side and on his phone, glancing at Logan with concern but kept his mouth shut. Duke’s posse was near the door, whispering in hushed tones, but their concern and fear for her was obvious. If Skylar had any doubt the town of Ennis cared about her and the boys, this show of support proved her wrong. Every face was lined with worry.
Two hours later, a tall man with graying hair, who looked more lumberjack than doctor, walked into the waiting room. He scanned the solemn faces and asked loudly, “James family?”
The whole room stood and gathered together.
Logan couldn’t breathe as he made his way over with her brothers, the town keeping close to their backs. Air was trapped in his lungs as his heart raced with fear, so he held it until the man stated with a smile, “She’s out of surgery and awake. Fighting mad to be accurate. She wants the vent pulled but we need to leave it in about a day, until the swelling in her throat goes down, or we’ll have to intubate her again, and that’s no fun at all. We gave her some paper and a pen to write with. She wanted me to ask if, and I quote, if the dickweed lost his balls to Max.”
The room erupted with cheers, but Logan doubled over and drew in air as the townspeople slapped him and her brothers on the back. After regaining his composure, he righted himself and threw back his head and laughed with the rest of them. Skylar was all-American steel through and through. She was the strongest person he’d known in his life. Stronger than any soldier in the army.
“What about her hand?” Jake asked when the cheers died down. “Did she lose her spleen?”
“She was lucky. It was a small laceration we were able to fix. As for her hand, I imagine it will act up when it rains. We put in a few pins while she was under sedation, so she won’t have use of it for a while and she’ll need physical therapy. CT didn’t show any structural damage to her larynx, so other than being hoarse once we extubate her, she shouldn’t have any problems. She’s got a bad contusion on her temple and bruising on her throat. One of her ribs is cracked too, so she won’t be laughing anytime soon. She looks worse for wear, but all of it will heal. It’ll be up to you to help her heal any lasting damage that dickweed caused.”
Logan stuck out his hand for the doctor to shake. “Appreciate it. More than you’ll ever know, Dr.?”
“Raine. Dr. Raine. Are you Max?”
“Logan. Max is my German shepherd.”
“Ahh, I see. So did he?”
Logan caught on to his question and answered. “He went for the throat instead. The man bled out and couldn’t be saved.”
Raine didn’t blink an eye. “Good,” was his only response.
Twenty-Four
Absolution
GO HOME, LOGAN.” My voice sounded scratchy still, but anything was better than having a tube down my throat. It had felt like I was breathing through a straw.
Logan stared back at me but didn’t move. He hadn’t left my hospital room in days. My brothers had come and gone, but not Logan. He was a fixture the nurses worked around. If they asked him to leave the room for privacy’s sake, he’d turn his back, but he wasn’t budging from the room. The staff soon learned not to bother asking. He would only leave when someone I knew came for a visit, but he’d only go as far as the hallway to stand guard.
“They’re discharging you tomorrow. I’ll go home then.”
“But I’m fine. Besides, you’ve got a killer to find. You don’t need to be playing nursemaid when there’s a whole staff here paid to do it.”
Logan was sitting in a chair he’d pulled next to the side of my bed. His feet were resting on the edge of the mattress while he held my good hand in his. His eyes drifted to my throat then away, but not before I saw guilt clouding them. I rubbed one of my fingers against his knuckles, tracing a scab that looked less red each day. No one knew how he bloodied both hands, but Josh said he arrived at the hospital fine but came back bleeding while I was in surgery. Since there were no APBs out on a huge, handsome man who attacked someone and beat them to a pulp, I can only assume he’d punched something repeatedly on purpose.
It was clear he blamed himself for Rowdy Douglas’ attack, but the simple truth was, it was no one’s fault but Rowdy’s. But getting through to this stubborn man was like moving a mountain. He took his job as my man to a whole new level. It was his job to protect me, he’d argued, and that was the end of it. It didn’t matter that no one could have predicted the cell phone we found was his and he’d lost a job because he couldn’t find it.
“What about Chance? Did you find anything in Virginia City?”
He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair, turning his head so he could stare at me. “Coroner can’t find evidence of foul play on Butch or Rip. That’s a dead end.”
“So that leaves the DNA on the bones and tissue you found or another murder? Does he really have to kill again in order for you to catch him?”
Logan’s eyes flickered at my comment and he sat up, muttering, “Shit, I forgot.”
“What?”
He raised his finger to give him a second and he turned on his phone. He swiped through his messages until he found one and opened it. Then he turned an image toward me. It was a flyer about two women who had been murdered in Twin Bridges. He moved it closer so I could get a good look. “Do you recognize them?”
I glanced at both. They looked vaguely familiar. The younger woman was pinging for me more than her mother. I searched my memory trying to place them, but nothing came to me. If they were connected to Chance, I didn’t know how.
“Did you ask Mac Macey? If there’s a connection to the Bear family, he would know.”
“That was the plan until . . .”
I snorted at him. He was afraid to bring up my attack for fear I was too fragile to deal with it. “U
ntil that dickweed lost his mind?”
His jaw clenched.
“Logan, I’m fine. He’s dead thanks to Max, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
He studied me for a moment then moved to the bed and gently lay down beside me, pulling me slowly and gently into his arms so my ribs and incision wouldn’t scream at me. “I’m not okay,” he grumbled into the top of my head. “I spent five hours thinking you might die. Give me a year or two to recover.”
I rubbed my cheek against his chest and covered his heart with my hand, patting him gently. We lay like that for a long time. Me soothing him while he stroked my hair and kissed my head. I tilted my head back when he grew still and found his eyes closed. I couldn’t be certain, but I didn’t think he’d slept much since I was moved to my room after surgery.
Reaching up with my injured hand, I ran the only finger that hadn’t been broken across his jawline, stopping at his lips. He hadn’t kissed me since I’d woken up. Too many lines and tubes at first. I was down to a single IV now and had more mobility, so I stretched my neck until I reached his lips and touched mine against his, whispering, “I love you,” against them.
His eyes fluttered open and he stared blankly at me for a moment, then they caught fire and he growled, “Thank, Christ,” before claiming my mouth in a searing kiss that would get us both kicked out of the hospital if we were caught.
He rested his forehead against mine the way I loved and stared intently at me while we caught our breath. Then he kissed both my eyes, both cheeks, and brushed my lips again before he admitted on exchanged breaths, “Love’s not a big enough word for what I feel. You own my heart. My body. My soul. If love covers all those things—then I love you—to the very depths of my being.”
I hadn’t cried since I’d woken up after surgery. I was so happy to be alive I’d fought against happy tears. I lost that battle on a shuddered breath and buried my face in his neck while I sobbed. We stayed like that until we both fell asleep, wrapped up in each other and the love we shared.