by Aiden Bates
Logan’s breaths grew short, fast, and shallow. In my lap, he gazed up at me, unfocused and scared. I ran my fingers through the hair splayed on his forehead and gently grazed my fingers over his cheekbones, then cradled his jaw. Just touching, touching, desperate to keep his attention anywhere but the gushing wound.
“Hey,” I said. “Hey, come on, Logan, stay with me.”
“He’s going into shock,” Rebel muttered. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”
“Scared,” Logan whispered so faintly it was more like a breath.
“I’ve got you,” I said. “Nothing to be scared of.”
I could tell he was trying to stay awake, trying to listen to me, but the blood loss and shock was too much; he passed out.
“Logan. Logan, come on.” I tapped his cheek, gently, then harder. He didn’t respond. “Stay with me. Come on.” His pulse ran thready and weak in his neck. In the distance, sirens roared.
25
Logan
My gut throbbed with a dull, hot ache. Every breath sent a shallow stab of pain into my spine. That was what I noticed first. Then the pounding in my head made me dizzy with weakness.
Memory flooded back in an icy rush. My father. The gun. Blade’s back turned. I jerked awake and scrabbled at the surface under me, my hands clawing at soft sheets and pulling at the nasal cannula in my nose.
“Hey, hey, cool your jets.” Blade’s voice was warm and gently soothing. His hand covered mine and pulled it away from my face. “You’re okay.”
“Oh,” I whispered. I remembered, vaguely, like recalling a dream. Blade’s hands on my face. Seeing his face upside down over mine. He had been saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear him. As if I were underwater, slowly drowning. “What happened?”
“You were kidnapped.” Blade took my hand gently in his own and ran his thumb over the back of my hand. “You’re in the hospital. You were shot.”
“S’why it hurts.”
“Yeah.” He almost laughed. “Yeah, that’s why it hurts.”
I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the dim light of the hospital room. The bed was soft beneath me and the air smelled still and sterile. Blade sat in a chair pulled right to the edge of the hospital bed. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he hunched his body towards me slightly. His clothes were clean, but his hair was pulled back into a messy knot, like he’d groomed only halfway, and too hastily.
“Some Viper’s Nest guys broke into our house and kidnapped you,” Blade said. “Held you in a warehouse. They did it to get to me.”
“How long?”
“Almost two days.”
I sunk back into the pillows.
“Do you remember?”
“I…” My throat tightened. My time alone in the warehouse was a blur. But I remembered the cold metal of my father’s gun on my temple and his hand on my throat. His voice spitting next to my ear. “Born and raised.” Blade knew. He knew everything. He knew about my father and my past. He knew I was meant to be a mole in their club. Why was he even here? What did he want from me?
“Blade—I—I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie, and I wasn’t spying. I swear it. He wanted me to, he did. And I said I would to get away, but I wasn’t going to do it. If my car hadn’t broken down, I never would’ve met you. But then I did meet you, and I wanted to tell you but I just—I just—” My chest tightened and my breath stuttered in my chest. Sobs caught in my throat, trapping my words there. I didn’t know how to say: I didn’t want to lose you.
“It’s okay.” Blade grasped my hand tighter. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed Crave for a fucking second.” Blade’s other hand skimmed over my swollen jaw. “He hurt you so bad. Again. And I wasn’t there.”
“Blade…”
“You don’t have to explain,” Blade said. “You don’t have to be sorry. Or hide anything. It’s over now, okay?”
Could that be true? Could it really be over? I’d lived so long under Crave’s shadow I didn’t know how to live without it. “My dad tried to shoot you,” I muttered.
“Siren got him pretty good in return,” Blade said. “In the leg”
“Good.” My fear and anxiety faded into a sense of disbelief. Even if this wasn’t real—even if Blade changed his mind—I’d savor this while it lasted. The physical pain of my wounds rushed in to fill the space. “I’m tired.”
“Logan,” Blade said softly.
I turned my head on the pillow to meet his eyes.
“You saved my life,” Blade said. “Again.”
“It was my fault you were there at all.”
“No,” Blade said forcefully. “It was Crave’s fault. You stopped him from killing me.”
It hadn’t been conscious. I’d just seen what was happening. I knew what my father was capable of doing, and I didn’t want to live in a world without Blade in it. He had people counting on him, responsibilities, a family. I had none of that. If Blade was gone—I couldn’t bear the thought. It just made sense to get in front of the gun. I shrugged, as if that would explain it all. “What was I supposed to do?”
“God,” Blade said. His voice was very soft. “I’m completely in love with you.”
I stared at him, not comprehending. “What?”
Blade reached over and brushed my hair off my forehead. I remembered that same motion from the warehouse, his callused fingers gentle on my skin as I bled out in his lap. “I love you,” he said. “I’m in love with you.”
“You’re not.” I turned towards the warmth of his hand and closed my eyes.
“I’m not?” he asked.
“Not possible. Can’t be. You know—You found out—”
“Yeah, I know about your dad. Doesn’t change anything.”
“I… Why?”
“Why do I love you?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Blade hummed thoughtfully. “You’re brave. Smart. Funny. Competent. Loyal. Even when…” He cleared his throat. “Even when you thought I was going to leave you in that warehouse, you saved me.”
I met Blade’s eyes and found them shining with tears.
Was this real? He knew who I was. He knew everything, now. There were no more secrets between us… and still he wanted to be with me?
“Say it again?” I asked.
“I love you.”
My heart thumped hard in my chest. “Kiss me.”
“I won’t hurt you?”
“Don’t care. Kiss me.”
Blade sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He kissed me gently, one hand guiding the kiss, palm on my cheek and thumb brushing over my cheekbone.
“I love you, too,” I said into the kiss. Blade’s lips twitched into a smile when I said it. Warmth and ease flooded me, and I wanted to say it over and over, so I did, whispering it between kisses.
Blade pulled away just enough to look at me, cataloguing my injuries with his eyes.
“I really am sorry,” I said. “I—I didn’t know how to tell you about the Vipers. I just wanted to put it all behind me. All I ever wanted was to be rid of my father, and I thought the best thing that could ever happen for me was a life alone. But when I found you, I found something better. And all I could imagine happening when I told you was… The end. The end of us. I just—I couldn’t give it up.”
“I’m not giving you up,” Blade said. “Not ever.” He sat up, still on the edge of the hospital bed, facing me. He took my hand again. “You know, Priest has known about your connection to the Vipers for weeks.”
“What?”
“Raven, too.” Blade shook his head, a small smile curling at his lips. “Both of them. They knew that Crave is your father. For weeks. Can you believe that?”
“How is that possible?”
“Background check.” Blade shrugged. “They didn’t tell me. You’ll have to get them to explain. I’ve apparently been in the dark about a lot of things around here recently.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have
a fuckin’ thing to be sorry for. You’ve saved me twice now. Part of being president is having loyal people who can help share the load.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my inner wrist gently, where it was still red and irritated from the restraints. “Speaking of—are you up to saying hello?”
“Too bad! Don’t get a choice!” Raven burst through the door and skidded to stop at the foot of my bed. He beamed widely at me, but he had rings under his eyes dark enough to rival Blade’s. “Hey, Logan.” He grabbed my foot beneath the sheet and squeezed hard. “Glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I said.
Raven’s smile was so wide I couldn’t help but return it.
“God, it’s good to see you,” he said.
“How did you find out?” I asked. “About… My dad. And everything.”
Raven shrugged. He chewed on his thumbnail for a moment, then cast his eyes towards Blade. Blade nodded.
“Background check,” Raven said. “I know how to run a thorough one.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” I asked.
“He told me.” Priest appeared in the doorway carrying a brown paper bag. “Hey, Logan. I don’t know if you can eat regular food yet, but we brought muffins anyway.”
“Who’s we?”
“Oh, you know. The regulars.”
Blade squeezed my hand. He met my eyes and furrowed his brow. I nodded slightly, then Blade nodded at Priest.
Priest stepped in, and behind him everyone else filed in: Gunnar, Siren, Tex, Coop, Maverick, even Heath. The room was suddenly full to bursting as everyone crowded around the hospital bed in a flurry of greetings and laughter.
“Feeling all right?” Gunnar asked. “How’s the wound healing?”
“You look good,” Siren said. “All things considered.”
“We’re all glad you’re okay, Logan,” Maverick said with a serious nod.
Heath patted his side. “Gonna have matching scars.”
“War wounds!” Coop shouted from behind everyone, waving his splinted hand in the air. “Brothers-in-arms!”
Tex grabbed Coop’s arm and pulled it down with a shake of his head.
“Guys, guys,” Blade said from where he was still leaning against the side of my bed. “Let him breathe a little.” He glanced down at me. “I can kick them out.”
My eyes prickled hot with tears. “You’re all here.”
“Of course we are,” Raven said. “You’re part of the family. Right?”
Nods all around.
“Quit it, everyone.” I covered my face with my hands. “If I start crying, it’ll make everything hurt worse.”
Everyone stayed crowded around the bed for a few minutes, talking to me and each other, knocking their shoulders against each other in the crowded space, making me laugh and then wince as the gunshot wound pulled and stretched. Besides food, they’d brought books, and a tablet preloaded with movies.
The clenching in my chest had nothing to do with my wounds. The laughter, the smiles, the familiar touches gripping my shoulders and squeezing my hands. The gratefulness.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said. “All of you.”
“I know,” Gunnar said, shrugging. “We wanted to.”
I turned my face into the pillow, biting back tears. A chorus of good-natured laughter followed.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t do that,” Siren said. “You’ll get Coop going, then he’ll never stop.”
Coop sniffed noisily and wiped his eyes.
Blade leaned down and kissed me roughly on the temple. The same place I’d felt the cold barrel of my father’s gun.
After about fifteen minutes, the nurse stuck her head in the room and gave the group a pointed look.
“All right, all right,” Gunnar said. “We’ll let you rest. Just text if you need anything, yeah? We’re running Ankhor Delivery as needed.”
“Sure,” I said. “I will. Thanks. For everything.”
The club members in their leather jackets all filed out, shouting goodbyes and well-wishes. Priest lingered by the door.
“Blade? You mind if I have a minute with Logan?”
“Oh.” He glanced between us. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll go get a coffee.” He squeezed my hand hard once, and then slipped out of the room.
Priest lowered himself into the chair at the side of the hospital bed, a little stiffly. “Oof. Bad knees. I’m getting a little old for all this excitement.”
“Come on,” I said. “You’re what, thirty-eight?”
“Ooh, that gets you points,” Priest said. “You’re feeling okay?”
“Tired,” I admitted. “Confused.”
“Confused?”
“Whiplash, I guess. I just—I was so sure it was over. I was dead at best. Back wrapped up in the Viper’s Nest at worst. Either way, I figured once you and Blade found out who I really was, what I’d been hiding, you wouldn’t want me around.”
“Normally you’d be right,” Priest admitted. “I think if you’d said that on the first day, Blade would’ve sent you on your merry way.”
I sighed and focused on my hands, curled in my lap. That was how all of this was supposed to go. Me, far away from all this, starting a new isolated life on the East Coast.
“But we’re all glad it didn’t go that way,” Priest said softly. “You’re not a Viper. You never were.”
“He wanted me to be.” I couldn’t meet Priest’s eyes. “My father. He tried to make me one. Sometimes I think I’ll never really be free of it.”
“Maybe not,” Priest said. “But it’s not who you are. There’s more to you than your past, Logan. Blade saw that. I did, too.”
“Raven said he ran a background check.”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you about.”
“Standard procedure?”
Priest rubbed his short salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully. “Honestly, no. Gunnar’s in charge of security and wanted to run it as part of the increased security due to the drugs showing up. He asked Raven to do it, since Raven knows how to pull a hell of a background check without it alerting anyone.”
“And he found out about me being Crave’s kid?”
“He did. By then, you know, he considered you a friend. Still does, obviously. But Raven—” Priest pressed his lips together. “He struggles to connect with people sometimes. He’s smart. But growing up in the club made him a little… Rough around the edges. And sometimes people don’t treat him with the respect he deserves.”
I chuckled. “I mean, I can relate to that.”
“I know,” Priest said. “Sometimes I think you could be his brother. So when Raven got the contents of the background check back, it didn’t sit right with him. Instead of taking it to straight to Blade or Gunnar, he came to me.” He sat back in his chair. “I was with my Old Man for thirty years.”
“Ankh. I know. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I know I got lucky. Love like ours doesn’t come along often. Not everyone finds it. And when I saw you and Blade together, it reminded me of when I first met Ankh. It’s like a seed being planted. If you tend to it, it’ll grow.”
“Priest, I—that seems like a hell of a leap of faith. Respectfully.”
“You’re right. It was.”
“Why? You didn’t think you were putting the club at risk?”
“It was a possibility. But I’ve learned to trust my gut. And boy, you looked like shit when you first showed up. You definitely had an element of on-the-lam to you.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Should’ve trusted my gut about Jed a long time ago. But I’m glad I was right about you.”
“Why did you keep it from Blade, then?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I told him we ran it. I told him you weren’t a threat.”
“Sort of a lie by omission,” I said.
“I thought you deserved the right to tell your own story. I knew you’d tell us eventually.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Didn’t really go how I imagined.”
/>
Priest laughed, surprised. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder gently. “You remember what I told you your first night at Ballast? About the club?”
That night, sitting next to me, Priest had seemed so calm and steady. The bar dim and welcoming. It had been a chance for me to finally catch my breath when everything around me had been in such terrifying turmoil.
“An anchor in the storm,” I said. “I’ll admit you’re onto something with that.”
Priest grinned.
Blade rapped on the doorframe. “I have coffee.”
“Good man.” Priest took it from him.
“Hey!”
“You’re young, you don’t need coffee as much as old folks like me. I’m heading back to the clubhouse for a quick debrief with the rest of the crew. Need anything?”
“All good here,” Blade said.
Priest threw me a playful salute and slipped out the door.
“You can go if they need you,” I said.
“They don’t need me.” Blade kissed me soft and slow. “What do you need?”
“Just this.” I reached for him, one hand on the vulnerable back of his neck, the other at his jaw. “Just you.”
26
Blade
Two months passed slowly. Late summer became fall and the foliage in Elkin Lake turned gorgeous shades of yellow and orange. My long, winding rides now included the sharp bite of fall air. I parked my bike outside my—our—house. It was mid-afternoon, sunny and brisk.
“You home?” I called as I stepped inside.
“Hey, babe.” Logan was standing over the sink, wearing snug sweatpants, an oversized sweater, and a pair of my wool socks. “Good ride?”
“Excellent. Good weather. Ready for you to be able to ride again.” I hung my leather by the door then stepped into the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”
“Wanted to bring something to the party tonight,” he said. “Not anything fancy.”
I snuggled up against him, my chest flush to his back. I wrapped one arm loosely around his torso and pressed my palm flat against the healed, but tender, gunshot wound. “What’d you make?”