Edge of Forever (5 page)

Glass shattering.

She flinched.

That sound…that sound and the heat.

She tried to pull away. The snapping blast.

Hurts.

Logan?

No. Not Logan.

She reached for her—for the twisted and crumpled woman.

For Nic.

Nichole.

A red tissue paper haze. Glass.

Hurts.

∞♦
∞

Logan walked out of the bathroom with a new pair of jeans on and a sweatshirt from the first Winchester Falls festival he’d done. The warm memories and worn cotton helped ease the itching skin of his back.

The little rips and tears from the glass were healing. His butterfly bandages had fallen off in the shower and he didn’t bother looking for their replacement. The water had run clear—now he just had to worry about Izzy’s cuts and bruises. The burns that kept her poor fingers so still and raw. The tears on the inside that matched the outside.

A stash of K-cups and an individual coffee cup maker sat on the small dresser at the back of the room. He picked out a dark roast, tucked one of the colorful mugs under the tap and poured out a bottled water into the chamber.

He wicked the last of the water out of his hair and scrubbed his fingers through the spiky ends. He must have washed it three times. Now he actually felt human again.

Logan picked up his mug and sipped the dark brew. A million times better than the sludge he’d been drinking from the coffee machines.

Izzy had slept through the night. Zeke had stayed, then had traded with Christian at midnight. He’d tried to stay up with his bandmate, but the migraine hangover had put him under again.

Julian had showed up in the morning and was still sitting next to her, reading
On the Road
from his battered copy. His drummer read the book at least twice a year without fail. Looked like he was going to share this round with Izzy.

The oddly paced novel was disjointed and ugly, beautiful and crazy. It suited Julian and his personality. He’d wear a suit with a grungy pair of boots. He was slick and opened his mouth and a southern accent slid out that devolved into creative swearing the more he drank.

Besides Zeke, Julian was his favorite person.

Lost to the story, he didn’t notice Logan come up next to him. He abruptly stopped narrating. “Look at you, the lost hobo no more.”

“One layer of grime too many, son.”

“Truth.” Julian stood and tucked the book in his back pocket. “Your girl turned her head to me as I was reading, but didn’t stir beyond that.”

“She loves her books.”

“That she does.” Julian palmed his close cropped hair. “Is there anything you want us doing at the house?”

Logan crossed his arms, resting his mug on his forearm. “Just keep the reporters out.”

“That Roth guy sent out reinforcements. There are many scary dudes on his payroll. It’s dick shrinking.”

Logan snorted. “Let’s hope the same applies to the reporters.”

“Local news crews have scouts in Winchester Falls every day. They keep trying to dig for an angle. Famous musician and local business woman’s wedding ruined by festival massacre. It’s getting ugly.”

“Wedding?” Logan made an exasperated groan. “I haven’t married her yet, dammit. They’re already ruining my wedding day?”

“It gets better.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

“They’ve been playing our new single over the disaster footage. Somehow ‘Endings and Beginnings’ has become the Winchester Falls fight song.”

“What?” Exasperation and horror laced each syllable.

“Yeah. Charlie has us doing press to keep them away from you guys, but it’s been absolutely insane.”

Logan was so glad he hadn’t put a television in Izzy’s room. It probably would have landed outside in a pile of circuits. Everything had an angle these days. Including the explosion.

The idea that Aimee could have orchestrated that made his shoulders knot.

“Hello. Good morning.”

Logan turned to the little volunteer that worked this side of the hospital. She had a cart full of flowers. “We have a few arrangements for Ms. Grace.” She picked up a white basket with an explosion of sunflowers and black-eyed Susans. “From Mayor Darcy.”

He smiled. The mayor knew how to use colors when she wanted. Logan took it with his free hand and set it on the table next to Izzy. That way she could see them when she woke up.

One from The Stack family in town was full of wildflowers from Genevieve’s garden. Jacob’s wife was very selective with whom she shared her beloved flowers with. Izzy might enjoy Gen’s irises. At least a little.

“And then we have this one. It’s so pretty. All of us on the rounds have been sighing over it all morning.” She held up the crystal vase with blood red dahlias and pristine white roses.

The mug hit the tile with a pop and crash, ceramic shards scattering.

Logan’s hands went to fists and his shoulders to stone.

Izzy jumped at the sounds and made a soft moan. Logan instantly turned to her, forcing his hands to gentle as he pushed her hair back.

“Iz. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

She turned her face toward him, her topaz eyes blurry. “Hurt.”

“I know, baby. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

She tried to move her arms, but the supports for her hands were fastened to the bed so her hands wouldn’t fall naturally to the side.

“Just take a breath.” Logan looked over his shoulder at the girl, then to Julian.

“Shit.” Zeke came in the door and took the arrangement. “Okay, sweetie. Thanks so much for the delivery.”

“Did I do something wrong? They were so beautiful.” The volunteer, in her pink printed, kid-friendly scrubs and with her high ponytail, looked so distraught. “Don’t step in the glass. Let me just get—”

Julian and Zeke herded her to the door. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of it.”

“But…” The girl trailed off.

“Zeke,” Logan said sharply. “Let the nurse know she’s awake.”

“On it,” he called out.

Logan couldn’t concentrate on the fumbling conversation. Izzy was actually looking at him. Actually
saw
him, rather than doing that sleepy dreaming she had for the last two days.

Her eyes filled, realization crashing into her. “It wasn’t a dream.”

He’d have given anything to tell her it was a bad dream. To roll over with her and hold her close and make it all go away. He bowed his head and kissed her temple, kissed the tears melting into her hairline, and finally a soft kiss to her chapped lips.

“No.” She tried to curl into him, but hissed out a breath.

“Iz, you gotta be still, okay? Shh. Stay still.”

She swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders shook. “Tell me it isn’t true. That you got her out.”

The arrow landed deep inside his heart and embedded itself. It grew roots and bloomed through his veins and fed on his own sorrow. “I couldn’t. She was…” He swallowed down his own tears. “The explosion was too much.”

“Why? I shouldn’t still be alive.”

“Don’t you say that.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t ever say that.”

She turned her face away from him to look out the window. He understood why she did it, but she gutted him nonetheless.

“Izzy, please.”

“I’m tired.”

He tucked a loose lock of hair around her ear. She turned her face further into the pillow and he drew back. “I’m not going anywhere, Isabella.”

She hunched her shoulders up, but didn’t say anything else.

Seething anger pushed him across the room and out the door. “Where the fuck is the nurse?”

“Baby’s coming a few rooms down. She said she was on her way.”

“Where are those flowers?”

“I took care of them, Lo.” Zeke moved in front of him and put a hand up. “You are not going to go scare the crap out of the candy-striper.”

“Did you ask her where they came from?”

“She said they were on the cart this morning.”

“Was there a note?”

Zeke clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”

“Give it to me.”

He drew it out of his pocket. When Logan reached for it, he flicked it out of reach. “Don’t play her game.”

“Give it to me.”

Zeke let him take the card.

Sorry for your loss.

That was all it said. Not even a signature. Not even her pretend one. Absolutely benign.

He juggled his phone out and dialed Marcus. He answered on the first ring. “She sent something,” Logan said without preamble.

“I’ll be right there.”

Logan shoved his phone into his pocket. He looked down the corridor and spotted the nurse power walking his way. “She’s awake.”

The older woman nodded. “I’ll check on her.”

Logan stood in the doorway and watched the exchange. Izzy barely acknowledged the nurse. She simply stared out the window and nodded or shook her head at the appropriate times. Lost. That’s all he saw.

She was utterly lost to him and he didn’t know how to fix it.

“What the hell are they going to do about it? Why the hell do you think I went to the private sector for this, Roth?”

Logan paced the confines of the cafeteria of the hospital. It was between the breakfast and lunch rush, and only a handful of people were in there. Marcus sat at one of the cafe tables, his hands clasped on the tabletop.

He knew it was a tactic. Marcus had been trying to handle him since the day he hired him. Normally he appreciated the even-tempered man. It kept him from going off the deep end about this whole deal.

Today?

Not so much.

“Logan, I know the police haven’t helped in the past—hell, I know why. There’s a reason that twenty percent of my workload is stalking cases. The laws are definitely not in your favor. But this isn’t just nuisance threats.”

“You said yourself—no proof.”

“Yes, but we need the police to be involved to cover your ass. These people count on wearing you down and isolating you. And you know Aimee is a special case. She has money and smarts on top of her crazy. Even if we can’t prove that she was involved in the bookstore’s fire, it means she’s escalating.” Marcus sat back in his chair. “In a big way.”

“I think we should disappear.”

Marcus’s eyebrow lifted. “What are we talking here?”

“Off grid. New names.”

“With your fame? Are you serious?”

Logan crossed his arms. “Just long enough to get Izzy well. She’s grieving, man. I can’t have her in full bodyguard lockdown at the cabin. Aimee has already gotten to her there. I need to find somewhere that she’ll feel safe. And I need to find a way to end this. One way or another.”

“We’ve discussed this. I don’t do mercenary work—no matter how rich you are.”

“I want to go on the offensive. I’ve been playing defense for way too long. Being the bigger man isn’t getting it done. I need her destroyed in social media. She thinks she’s untouchable. That is not the case.”

Marcus tilted his head. “Like what?”

“That kid in college. That went off grid for a year. I need to know what happened to him. I don’t care what it costs, or how blurred the legal lines get. I need you to find out what happened to him. There has to be something there.”

“I can do that.”

Logan turned around to find the tattooed guard from Isabella’s room detail.

“Bishop—”

“Marcus, there’s a reason I’m on your payroll. I don’t mind doing these bodyguard jobs, but I’m good at the research and undercover work. I’m good at getting around the red tape. Use me.”

Marcus, usually unflappable, had gone rigid. Logan frowned. He had a feeling there was something else going on with that exchange. But right now he didn’t fucking care about whatever personal shit was going on between these two men. He needed results.

Logan focused on Bishop. He had a colorful sleeve of tattoos and longer hair that he kept in a current style. The guy could be twenty-three or thirty-three. He had that kind of chameleon look to his face. He had the insolent rock star look that Logan understood.

He’d been on tour with more than one guy that had a similar quality. Bishop also had an intelligence flashing in his mercurial hazel eyes.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a long shot.”

“I built my career on long shots,” Logan said.

Marcus lifted his head and zeroed in on Bishop. “I don’t have any pull with anything surrounding Asher DeSalvo. You’d have to go undercover without any backup.”

“Done it before.”

“This is not
before
,” Marcus said with a sharp warning in his voice.

“I know that.”

“He works in a damn ad agency.”

“All that surveillance work made me damn good with a camera and line of bullshit. I’ll get in. You know I will. It’s important.”

“Why?” Logan asked. This guy didn’t know jack about him besides it being a job. Marcus was invested because that was how he was built. To Dane Bishop, they were barely more than a folder full of information—and as Marcus said, stalker cases weren’t exactly special in their line of work.

“I knew someone very much like your Aimee Collen. I know how far they can go. I don’t want that to happen to you two.”

“I’m not too proud to use your skill set, Bishop. Nothing means more to me than Isabella’s safety. I’m tired of sitting back and hoping she’ll fade away. I need to do something.”

“You know this might not lead anywhere, right?” Marcus asked.

“I don’t care. I want all options explored. Because if I go underground with Isabella, Aimee is going to snap. It’s one thing when she can see me and my torture on television or however she’s keeping tabs on me, quite another when she can’t get to me.”

“And that could make her even more dangerous.” Bishop held up his hand to Marcus and moved in front of Logan. “The store was only the beginning.”

Logan nodded. “I think you’re right. I don’t think she meant to target anyone but Isabella—whether it was just to take what was most important to her or to actually harm her, I don’t know.”

“Announcing your engagement seemed to be the big deal. The chapel was her initial focus, too.” Marcus tapped the folder under his hands. “There has to be a trigger there.”

Logan hadn’t thought of that before, but it could have been. Aimee had never had the most stable home life. Her parents were still together, but in name only. They’d built the hotel empire, and in public they seemed to be the American dream. Being with Aimee for a few months, he’d seen behind the curtain to the excesses.

He was a musician that lived through the grunge era and the vanity drugs, as well as the hard. The Collen family made his tours look like a Disney parade.

“I’ll get to work with Aidan on a way in.” Bishop nodded to Logan then strode out.

He pushed his hands through his hair.

“Aidan is the best there is on undercover operations.”

“I know. It’s not about that.”

“Has Bella come around?”

Logan barked out a humorless laugh. “I just had to tell Iz that her best friend died. You should have seen the hate and the blame flicker to life in her eyes before she shut everything off. Shut me out.”

“She’s out of it on meds and grief. Just give her some time.”

“That’s why I want you to get us out of the country. Aimee has way too many resources.”

“Not just new identities?”

Logan shook his head. “I need somewhere isolated, but not completely cut off.”

“I’ll make some calls.”

“Thanks. I know I’ve been a shit to deal with.”

Marcus met his gaze. “She’s your family.”

Simplest terms, that was Marcus Roth. “I’d die for her, and kill for her. No question.”

“It’s the only reason I’m still here. I get that. Even when I want to drop you in the darkest hole in the middle of Antarctica for the shit you pull, I get it.”

Logan grinned. “You’re not the only one, pal.”

“All right. Go check in on your girl. I’ll have you on a plane as soon as her doctor gives her the all clear.”

“I’ll be in contact.”

∞♦
∞

Bella wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring out the window. Logan had come and gone twice. Each time he tried to talk to her, she blocked him out. It wasn’t hard to do with the morphine swimming in her veins.

Really good stuff.

Floating away from the flashing, confusing memories was a lot easier to deal with. Logan’s face in the flames and smoke. The glass raining down on her. The lick of heat over her shoulders and hands.

Nic’s gargled scream.

That one kept coming.

On a loop.

She hadn’t felt the tear at her side when it happened. Small miracles, she supposed, though it was the one that radiated the most. A throb that washed over her like a wave and an undertow were warring against each other, then they recessed, leaving her drenched in sweat.

And all she could do was sit there and take it.

She couldn’t move. Her ribs made breathing a contact sport. Her fingers looked like radioactive shellfish. Blistered and angry, ugly and swollen. She could only imagine what her shoulders looked like.

She’d bear every ache and pain without the morphine just to have Nic back.

She closed her eyes and when she woke again, it was full dark. A dim light came from the corner of the room. Zeke was on the couch with a snoring Cody draped over him like a blanket.

Pain had her suck in a deep breath as she turned her head. A chair clattered back and Logan’s large hand appeared before her with a cup of ice chips at the ready. She kept her eyes downcast as he coated her lips.

“Is that all right?”

She nodded.

He slipped a sliver between her lips and she let its coolness wash over her thick tongue and parched throat. His thumb slid over her cheek and she turned away again. She couldn’t even say why.

She just couldn’t look at him.

Not when she knew that she got to live and Adam lost his soulmate. Not when she knew it was their egos that had done this. That they had to push Aimee and show that she wasn’t going to hold them back from a future together.

And now her best friend didn’t have one.

And Adam had his stolen away.

So she couldn’t look at him.

Couldn’t face it just yet.

Didn’t deserve to.