After The Rain (One Pass Away #1)

by Mary J. Williams

  Unfortunately, the other two men were already in place at the door. They moved out of the shadows just as Logan reached for the knob. He might have fought them off. However, before he could throw a punch, he was cold-cocked by a two-by-four. Flat on his back, his head rang like the bells of Notre Dame, Logan tried to gather his sense. Stand up. Fight.

  He opened his eyes. In front of him were two Rafers, neither of them very clear. There was one thing Logan couldn’t miss, blurry eyes or not. A baseball bat raised and ready to strike.

  When Logan tried to roll out of range, he was grabbed by each arm. Wade and Mason Blaylock. Shit. The man was a mountain. In high school, he was league defensive player of the year. Logan was in better shape, but between them, Wade and Mason outweighed him by at least two hundred pounds. It took some effort, but with the aid of their superior size, they managed to hold him down.

  “Think you’re going back to the NFL?” Rafer sneered. He tapped the wooden bat against his hand. “Well, think again.”

  Bracing for the pain of impact, Logan knew this was it. There would be no recovering this time. His dreams and Claire’s were over.

  THE SECOND CLAIRE opened the door she knew exactly what was happening.

  The men holding Logan. The blood running down the side of his face. Rafer Macafee raising a bat with the intent of shattering Logan’s knee. There was no time to get help. No time to think things through. She did the only thing she could.

  She raised the gun and fired.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YOU FUCKING BITCH. You shot me.”

  Rafer screamed the words from a writhing heap on the ground.

  “Damn straight. Do something smart for the first time in your life. Stay down or I’ll shoot you again.” Claire held the gun firmly, her hands steady as a rock. The rest of her was a mess.

  “Logan? Are you all right? Answer me, or I’m going to shoot Rafer again.”

  “Hey,” Rafer protested.

  “Shut up. You two,” Claire swung the gun toward the men who had been holding Logan down. “Not another step.”

  Stunned by the turn of events, it had taken them a few moments to react. The alcohol that had given them the courage to follow Rafer’s crazy plan was wearing off. Self-preservation mode kicked in. However, they weren’t fast enough. Claire pinned them down before they could scamper off to their holes like the rats that they were. They could have made a break for it. However, they were just sober enough to play it smart. If it was a choice between jail and bleeding, they chose jail.

  “Logan!” Claire called again, her voice sharp with worry.

  “I’m fine. I wanted to see if you would really shoot that bastard again.”

  “I’m bleeding to death.”

  “Shut up,” Claire and Logan shouted simultaneously.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Pug came running from the bar. Rhonda and Jonas were right behind.

  “Take this. And don’t let anyone get away.” Claire shoved the gun at Pug.

  “Is that mine?” Rhonda asked, her eyes wide as she looked around the parking lot.

  Claire didn’t pause to explain how she had grabbed the weapon out of Rhonda’s purse before coming outside. In an instant, she was at Logan’s side. She ran her hands up and down his leg, checking for an injury.

  “Where did he get you?” she demanded.

  “In the head. Though it wasn’t Rafer who knocked me down.” Logan lifted a hand to his head, wincing. “My leg is fine, Claire. Claire,” Logan sat up, taking her hands in his. “He didn’t touch my leg. I promise.”

  “Oh my God. Oh my God.” Claire threw herself into Logan’s arms. When she heard his hiss of pain, she pulled back instantly. “We need to get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Claire exclaimed. “You’re going to the hospital if I have to carry you myself.”

  “Claire.”

  Without another word, Logan gently gathered her close. She was shaking. A natural reaction, all things considered. He held on, swaying slightly until she began to settle. Around them, things were in a state of chaos. Pug held the gun in one hand while he called for backup with the other.

  Jonas quickly assessed the situation. His first concern was Logan. Once he realized his son would be all right, he quickly went to the ice machine, retrieved his gun, and returned to the parking lot.

  Pug didn’t say anything. He gave Jonas a long, considering look. Deciding he wasn’t in rabid vigilante mode, Pug nodded. It would be a few minutes until the police arrived. Having another set of eyes, not to mention another gun, could only help.

  Rhonda, weapon-free, knelt by the still groaning Rafer. Cool as a cucumber, she took the bar towel from the waistband of her apron. With the skill of a mother with two young, active children, she wrapped the cloth around his arm.

  “Here,” Rhonda grabbed Rafer’s other hand. “Hold this down and keep a steady pressure. Oh, stop your caterwauling. It’s only a flesh wound.”

  “I’ve lost a lot of blood,” Rafer cried out pitifully.

  “And you’ll lose more if you don’t keep that towel in place.” Rhonda rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’re lucky I’m helping you at all. If I weren’t worried that there was a slight chance you might die, I wouldn’t bother.”

  “You care if he dies?” Pug asked when Rhonda joined him.

  “No. But Claire might. Shooting someone is hard enough. She doesn’t need to have the burden of taking someone’s life. Even scum like Rafer.”

  “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it,” Claire called out, her voice muffled against Logan’s chest.

  “Sure you would,” Logan whispered for her ears only. “My warrior woman might be tough as nails, but she has a soft heart. Even for scum like Rafer Macafee.”

  “Shh. I don’t want that getting around.”

  Logan closed his eyes, the pounding in his head lessening with the feel of Claire in his arms. He knew she was only half-joking. Claire was strong. Inside and out. He knew she liked to project an I don’t give a shit attitude. He knew for the most part that was true.

  He also knew there were a select few things that Claire Thornton cared about deeply. Her work. Her friends. And more and more, Logan was convinced she cared about him. Not just as a rehabilitation project. Or a lover. She might not be ready to admit it – but he was in her heart.

  The sounds of sirens signaled the approach of the police. The ambulance arrived at the same time.

  “Jesus,” Logan groused when one of the EMTs ran a little flashlight in front of his eyes. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “And I told you, you’re getting checked out,” Claire said firmly. “It’s either here or in the hospital.”

  “Fine,” Logan sighed. He hated hospitals. He shut his mouth and let the man do his job.

  Rafer wasn’t keeping quiet. He had been shot! That bitch was not getting away with it.

  “I want to press charges,” he shouted. The woman dressing his arm winced.

  “Shut up and let me do my job. We’ll get you to the hospital, and then you can talk to the police.”

  “I’ll do more than talk.” Rafer didn’t lower his voice. He got louder. “I have witnesses. That crazy cunt shot me for no reason.”

  “Is he serious?” Claire asked in amazement. “And did he call me a cunt?”

  “After everything that’s happened, that is what bothers you?” Logan chuckled.

  “Everything about that idiot bothers me,” Claire assured Logan.

  “I know people.” Rafer continued his rant as he was wheeled to the ambulance. “My father-in-law has money. You’ll pay for this. All of you will pay.”

  “Your father-in-law will happily let you rot in jail,” Rhonda called out.

  “My advice is to come in for further tests,” the EMT officer said. He finished cleaning the cut on Logan’s head and applied a bandage. Stitches weren’t necessary. “I don’t think you have a concussion
.”

  “I told you,” Logan said to Claire.

  “However,” the man continued. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Please, Logan.” Claire squeezed his hand. “You can’t fool around with a head injury. There could be internal bleeding.”

  Logan could have held out against anything but the concern in Claire’s blue eyes. Causing her worry was the last thing he wanted. Even if it meant a trip to the dreaded hospital.

  “Fine. But I’m not riding with Rafer.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Claire smiled with relief. She turned to Pug, who was conferring with a uniformed officer. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Very funny.” Pug shook his head. “Since I know where to find you, you can go. Come to the police station tomorrow and give your statement.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Pug.” Claire helped Logan to his feet. “Do you want to come, Jonas?”

  “Are you okay, Logan?”

  “You know how hard my head is, Dad.”

  Jonas nodded. Inside, he was still a quivering mass of worry. He hadn’t seen what went down, but he knew it was bad. Football be damned, this time, Logan might not have walked away. Literally. Rafer might have crippled Logan for life. Or, Jonas shuddered at the thought, killed him. Seeing his son strong. Standing. He said a silent thank you.

  “He’s a lousy patient, Claire.” Jonas kept his tone light. “You deal with him. I’ll stay here and close up the bar.”

  Claire carefully helped Logan into the cab of his old pickup truck.

  “I can buckle my own seatbelt, Claire.”

  “Quiet.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Let me fuss, okay?”

  “Will that make you feel better?”

  “Probably.”

  Claire met Logan’s gaze. The dried blood on his face and the memory of him flat on his back with Rafer about to crush his kneecap were the only things that kept her from smacking the little smirk off his face.

  “You like that I was worried sick?”

  “I like that you were worried,” Logan amended. “I like that you care.”

  “Of course I care.” Claire’s eyes widened. “Were there any doubts?”

  “No.” Only to what degree. Logan kept that caveat to himself. “Fuss away, Claire.”

  “Screw you, Logan.”

  Claire tried to slam the door. With one hand, Logan blocked her; with the other, he pulled her close.

  “Claire.” Logan spoke her name as a soft caress. “Claire. Please. I need you to make a fuss.”

  For the first time, Claire heard the vulnerability in Logan’s voice. The adrenaline was wearing off. The reality of what almost happened had sunk in. This time, Logan started shaking.

  “I’ve got you.” Claire wrapped him in her arms. “I’m not letting go.”

  Silently she added – not now, not ever.

  IT TURNED OUT Logan was right. He had a hard head.

  After running a series of tests, including a CAT scan, Logan’s doctor proclaimed him concussion-free.

  “If you experience lingering headaches past tomorrow, come back right away,” Dr. Samuels told Logan. He insisted Claire be in the room. Logan wanted her to hear it from a professional. “Other than that, I’d say you were lucky. Keep the bandage in place and dry for another few days. There shouldn’t even be a scar.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Samuels.” Logan shook the man’s hand.

  “Don’t say it,” Claire as she turned the truck onto the highway.

  “What?”

  “This is not an I told you so moment.”

  “Well…” Logan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, tapping his mouth with one finger. “I seem to recall telling you the hospital was a waste of time and money.

  Claire gave Logan a quick glance. He looked like exactly what he was. A man who had survived a nasty attack. His hair stuck out in several odd directions, part of it matted with dried blood. On his forehead, around the edges of the bandage, a dark bruise was forming. From the looks of it, it was going to be a doozy.

  Logan’s clothes were streaked with dirt, sweat, and blood. Some of it was his. The splatters on the lower half of his jeans belonged to Rafer. He was tired, beaten, bruised, and bloody. And with all that, Logan Price still sent her heart beating a mile a minute.

  There was no figuring out why one person revved his motor. Or why the next person didn’t. At his worst, Logan was still the sexiest man she had ever known.

  “You can say you told me so,” Claire reached for Logan’s hand. “I would make the same call every time. Understand?”

  Logan raised her fingers to his lips. One by one, he kissed them. When he reached her thumb, he lightly bit down.

  “Understood.”

  “And Logan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Try not to put either of us in that position – ever again.”

  Keeping her hand in his, Logan rested his head against the seat. He closed his eyes.

  “I’ll try my best.” He waited for a beat. “But no guarantees.”

  When he heard Claire grumble under her breath, Logan chuckled. It felt good to tease her. It felt good to be here. In one piece. On his way home.

  Claire was making a habit of saving him.

  She had pulled him out of his depression. Given him that spark of hope. Bit by bit, she strengthened his body along with his resolve.

  Tonight she stopped an attack that might have ended any chance of a comeback. In all likelihood, it would have crippled him for life.

  Claire Thornton had given him everything. Would she be able to give him one more thing? Her heart?

  The thought swirled in Logan’s head as he drifted off to sleep, making him smile. When had he become such a greedy bugger? He wanted it all. A career with the Knights. Fame. Fortune. And the most important thing of all. Claire.

  Was that asking for too much? Logan didn’t care. This time? No matter what, he planned to get it all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LOGAN RECOVERED NICELY from the knock on his head by letting Claire take over. Not that it was any hardship.

  Hot soup. Aspirin. Plenty of TLC. All served up by a beautiful woman with a body that was made to drool over and a smile that could stop traffic on the autobahn.

  A man would have to be crazy not to revel in that kind of attention. Logan was many things – crazy wasn’t one of them.

  His only complaint was Claire’s temporary moratorium on sex.

  When they got home the night of Rafer’s attack, Logan took a quick shower, making sure to keep his head wound away from the spray of water. Feeling almost human again, he didn’t bother with any clothing. He wanted two things. His bed and Claire.

  “Take these.”

  Claire held out two tablets then a glass of water.

  “Drink it all,” she urged. “Stress can accelerate dehydration.”

  “I love that you know that.” Finishing the last drop, Logan set the glass on the end table.

  “My brain is my best asset,” she said, leaning over to pick up the jeans Logan discarded on his way to the bathroom.

  Admiring her firm, rounded backside, Logan grinned.

  “Your brain. Your ass. Right now, it’s a toss-up.”

  Claire smiled back. “I’m going to let that go because you’ve been such a good patient. Hardly a complaint to be heard.”

  “Hey,” Logan called out when Claire headed for the door. “Where are you going?”

  “You’ve had your shower. I need mine.” Claire sighed. “I wish you would agree to stay at the main house for a few nights. I know the doctor cleared you. Still…”

  “I hoped you would stay with me.” For once, Logan added silently.

  For a moment, he thought Claire was going to say no. He was ready with half a dozen arguments when she nodded.

  “That will work.” Claire pulled her shirt over her head. She removed her bra when she threw cold water on his dirty thoughts. “But no hanky-panky.”

  Before Logan could pull his chin off the fl
oor, Claire closed the bathroom door. No sex? Come on. Hadn’t he been good? He deserved a treat after the night he’d been through.

  A few minutes later, Claire emerged with nothing but a skimpy towel covering her luscious body. Now that wasn’t fair. How much was a man supposed to take?

  Claire released her hair from the messy knot on top of her head. The long, blond tresses fell over her shoulders. Logan wondered if she did it deliberately. Tell him he wasn’t getting any, then tease him with what he couldn’t have. With one look at her face, Logan knew the answer. Claire was being Claire. It wasn’t her fault that the mere thought of her made him ache.

  “I’m going to borrow one of your t-shirts to sleep in.”

  “Why? I like you naked.”

  “I like you naked too,” Claire said. “At this point, it’s better to keep at least a thin layer of cotton between us.”

  “Do you honestly think that would stop me?”

  Claire shook her head. She returned the shirt, dropped the towel, and climbed in beside him.

  “I mean it, Logan. You need rest. Nothing more.”

  “If you let me hold you, I’ll promise you anything.”

  “You might want to rethink that,” Claire laughed, settling into his arms. “I might ask for something you aren’t willing to part with.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would be.” Logan sighed with contentment. I have everything I need right here.

  “Your truck?”

  Logan felt the curve of Claire’s lips against his chest. Now he had everything he needed. The only thing better than Claire was smiling Claire.

  “My truck?” Logan pretended to consider the cost. “I could probably get a couple hundred bucks for it on the open market. But having you spend the night? That is priceless.”

  The events of the evening finally caught up with them. The conversation faded away as they drifted off to sleep, locked in each other’s arms.