Fated Hearts (Echoes of Darkness Prequel)

13

Ava

I swear not even three minutes have passed when Kaiden walks through the front door of the bar, his strides long and purposeful as he reaches us. Like last week, he’s decked in all black with a leather jacket on top, but his hair is free, touching his shoulders. Everything about him gives don’t-fuck-with-me vibes. He looks at the three men who attacked me in a blatant show of disgust and then nods at Logan in acknowledgment.

How the hell did he get here so quickly? I want to ask him that, but I don’t want to seem rude, so I decide not to say anything. Maybe he was in the area; it’s Saturday night, after all. Well, I guess it’s already Sunday since it’s past three a.m. On that thought, what was Logan doing here at this hour?

“Do you know them?” Kaiden asks me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head and take a deep breath. “No, not really. I did see them once last week outside the bar. They were drunk and acting like pervs. When I passed their group, the one with the switchblade grabbed my ass, and I turned around and punched him.” I point at the pendejo splayed on the floor next to the pool table. “Then Dominic appeared and scared them…so I guess they wanted some kind of revenge.”

Logan’s nostrils flare, and his fingers clench and unclench at his sides. “I should fucking kill them,” he grits out, locking his jaw with anger. He has a wild look in his eyes as he starts pacing like a wolf locked in a cage.

Kaiden places his hand on Logan’s shoulder, stopping the pacing. “If you do, things will get complicated. You should go get your car and take Ava home. Malik will be here shortly.”

“There’s no need; I live just ten minutes away. I can wa—”

Logan cuts me off. “I’m not letting you walk home,” he says, and then he approaches me. His gaze softens as it locks with mine, blanketing me like a warm hug. It creates a safe bubble where I finally feel like my lungs can fully expand since the three cabrones attacked me. “I’ll go get my car. It’s in a parking garage not far from here. I’ll be back quickly. Will you be okay waiting here with Kaiden?”

“Yeah,” I reply quietly. He’s given me a thorough case of whiplash. He was such an asshole a week ago, and now he looks at me like I’m something precious, something he cares about. “Shouldn’t we call the police?” I blurt out as I fumble with my clammy, trembling fingers in my lap.

“I know the chief personally. I’ll call him after you leave. You’ll probably have to go to the station to give a statement next week. There’s no need for you to stay here after you were attacked,” Kaiden responds as he takes out his phone and starts typing.

As Logan turns around, I stop him with a hand on his forearm. “Wait, your hands are bloody. You should wash them before you leave.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at his hands, like he didn’t even realize how much blood he has on himself. Crimson splatters also cover the front of his navy Henley and the sides of his black jacket, but they’re not that noticeable against the darker color. He goes behind the bar and washes his hands, then leaves quickly.

Kaiden doesn’t seem like the type of person who would enjoy any type of small talk, so we just sit in uncomfortable silence, waiting for Logan to be back. I resist the urge to pick at my skin when Kaiden unexpectedly brings me a glass of water. He gives me a curt nod when I mumble a “thank you”. I feel his eyes on me, but I think he’s just scanning me for injuries. My shaky hands almost make me spill the water all over myself as I bring the glass to my lips and take a few sips. The three assholes that attacked me are still passed out on the hardwood floor. I don’t spare them a glance, though…I can’t.

Logan is back faster than I expected. Everything is a blur as he brings my jacket and purse from my locker in the staff room. He hands my set of bar keys to Kaidento lock up, then turns toward me. In a soft voice, as if I’m breakable, he tells me Emily hadalready called Marnie and let her know what happened.

Before I know it, I’m in the passenger seat of Logan’s truck. I inhale a lungful of his crisp, woodsy smell that wraps around me in drugging waves. He asks for directions, and I tell him where I live. The drive is relatively short so it takes him more time to park than we spent driving from the Shabby Shotglass to my apartment. I feel strangely numb, as if everything happened to someone else. I am vaguely aware that Logan has stopped the engine, but I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience because I’m unable to move my limbs.

Logan rounding the hood and opening my door, finally snaps me out of it. Heat scorches my cheeks at the gesture as I spill out of the car. I didn’t think he had it in him with how he acted last week. What now? I should probably thank him, right?

I swallow and crane my neck to look into his honey-colored eyes. The side street he parked on is dimly lit, casting him in shadows, and enhancing the angular line of his jaw. He’s so handsome it almost hurts to look at him. “Thank you for tonight.”

His gaze drops to my lips. A laborious heartbeat passes. My throat rolls with a hard swallow as I wait for him to pounce on me. But he never does. Instead, something flashes in his eyes before he locks his gaze with mine again. “You don’t have to thank me.” His voice is rough, dripping with tension, his spine rod straight, and his muscles locked up like he is barely restraining himself.

I clear my throat loudly. “I, um, yeah…well, I guess I’ll see you around.” What the hell is it about this man that turns me into a blubbering mess? He probably thinks I don’t have more than two working brain cells. I shake my head and turn around when I feel his palm at the small of my back, his touch burning through my clothes.

“I’m not leaving you alone right now,” he says as he guides me to the entrance of my apartment building.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you mo—”

“You’re not inconveniencing me, Ava. I want to make sure you’re okay, then I’ll leave.” His tone doesn’t leave room for argument, so I punch in the code to my apartment building with sweat-slicked fingers. He drops the hand at the small of my back the moment we step into the elevator. Bitter disappointment thickens in my veins like syrup at the loss of his warmth.

Logan’s big frame takes up almost all the cramped space of the elevator, making me feel small and dainty next to him. I gulp audibly when his hand brushes mine. The air between us sparks with energy as scorching heat unfurls in my core. It’s only when the door finally opens that I feel like I can breathe again.

We both get into my small studio apartment. Fuck. The boxes. I let out a huff of relief when I remember I cleaned yesterday because I would have been so embarrassed if he saw the tornado of clothes covering the mountains of cardboard.

I flick the lights on and place my bag on the entryway table. Logan helps me take off my jacket and urges me to sit on the couch. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks as he drapes his jacket alongside mine on one of the two bar stools.

“In the cabinet beneath the sink. I can get—”

He narrows his eyes, interrupting me. “Don’t you dare move.”

As Logan disappears through my bathroom door, I slump on the couch and remove the hair tie, freeing my hair from the sore ponytail. I hope I don’t have any bald spots from when that asshole grabbed a fistful of my hair. My fingers tremble as I massage my scalp and slam my eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the anxiety that’s creeping in the back of my throat.

But it doesn’t work because a flashback of the cold blade pressing into the side of my neck passes through my mind in the darkness. An unexpected pang of fear makes my breathing ragged. Mierda. My heart rate kicks in overdrive, and my stomach fists as the acrid taste of bile floods my mouth with the urge to throw up. Jumping up from the couch, I immediately cut through the room and push Logan out of my way when he steps out of the bathroom, holding the first aid kit.

“What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer him because I’m already on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet as I puke my guts out with violent heaves. Logan gently gathers my hair away from my face. I don’t want him to see me like this, but the way he rubs my back soothes something deep inside me. Yet, it’s still not enough to prevent the violent tremors, and for some reason, I can’t stop the tears that blur my vision and start falling from my eyes.

Logan puts the lid on the toilet and flushes before he pulls me into his strong arms. He places me in his lap as he sits on the bathroom floor with his legs slightly bent in front of him because of the cramped space, his back resting on the glass wall of the walk-in shower. “Shh, I got you, baby,” he says softly as he kisses the top of my head, and his calloused fingers wipe the tears that fall from my eyes.

I don’t know how long we sit on the bathroom floor with me enveloped entirely by Logan’s big body. After some time, the tears stop and I’m no longer shaking like a leaf, but Logan doesn’t let me go. He keeps me wrapped in his big arms, and I’ve never felt safer in my entire life. It’s inexplicably like finally arriving home after a hard day. Like finding something that I’ve been searching for my whole life. Like mending a broken part of my soul. His woodsy cologne sails over me in calming waves, and the steady beat of his heart lulls me until my eyes shut on their own accord, and tiredness pulls me under.