28. Logan
28
LOGAN
There are more guns in the white-paneled van I’m sitting in the passenger seat of than should ever exist in one location. Definitely more than we need for one man, but I’m not going to tell Dean what to do when it comes to his daughter.
Not when I have multiple guns, too.
When we’re going to face my own personal demon, there’ll never be enough firepower as far as I’m concerned.
“She’s less than five miles away,” Niles Tobin mutters from behind me.
I glance back to see his face staring at a tablet that probably costs more than my house when all is said and done.
It’s been twelve hours since Poppy was taken .
An hour after I got him to work, Niles had a location and was on his way.
Six hours after I called, there are more men ready to help me hunt Ortega down than a normal person would expect.
Three vans full of men, weapons, and technology are headed into the northern half of the state not even seven hours after Poppy vanished.
And I’ve felt every second branding its way onto my soul because I have no way of knowing if she’s okay.
“She’s alive.” I don’t know who I’m telling, but we all need to hear it.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling,” Sam mutters from my back. “I can’t shake it, Dad.”
“She’s a fighter.” Dean squeezes my shoulder in silent support.
Remy and Dom are playing rock paper scissors in the back of the van, and I see Dom kick his ass while I look back at Dean. “You know she’s going to do whatever she has to do to save herself.” Dom offers a shrug for me. “We just gotta get ready to kick some ass because you know he’s not going to make it easy.”
Remy double-checks the scope on his rifle and adjusts it before hanging the strap over his shoulder .
“The satellite tracking location on the car Ortega stole is pinging up ahead.” Niles puts his tablet down and switches it out for a gun that Angelo hands him.
Niles is freakishly good when it comes to computers, illegal shit, and commandeering equipment that he uses for his business. Finding Ortega would have been impossible for anyone else, but not him.
Angelo, whose driving has gotten us out here a hell of a lot faster than anyone else would, pulls over to the side of the road about a mile away from where we’re headed.
“Someone needs to lead this shit.” Ian glares at me. “Someone who isn’t Poppy’s father or her baby daddy. Because the two of you are going to get there and any training or good ideas that you’d normally have are gonna shit the bed. Because you’re gonna be too focused trying to get to her.”
“Good.” Dean shrugs. “You can do it. Let’s go. The plan is, we get there, kill Ortega before he hurts my girl, and then get her home.”
Angelo slides the van back onto the road but there’s something there.
Just up ahead.
“Stop the van.” The order leaves my lips when I see the flash of bright blue on the side of the road. “Stop the fucking van.” The roar leaves my lips when Angelo doesn’t slow down fast enough.
I’m out the door before anyone else, running back to the sweater I know belongs to her. Hell, I asked her why she was wearing it during the summer. But it is one of the only things that fit her, and she stole it from me during high school.
“Poppy.” Her name is nothing more than a silent plea on my lips when I pull her body into my arms, ignoring the blood.
“Find him,” I tell the men at my back as Dean and Sam come tearing up to my side. “Find him. And make sure he’s either dead or close to it before I get my hands on him.”
Poppy’s eyes are closed, and I can’t see her chest moving.
I can’t do this.
“Not again.” I close my eyes, praying to a god that I’m not sure I believe in. “Please, not again.”
I pull the sweater away to find her bleeding from a shallow wound on her stomach, but her chest is moving.
She’s alive.
“I broke a promise, Lo.” Her whisper breaks me. “It hurts so bad and I’m so sorry. ”
She shatters me with her words, and there is no one but her to pick up the pieces.
“You didn’t break any promise,” I tell her, crying and unashamed of it. “You kept it. You’re alive. You’re safe.”
“Think I killed him,” she mutters. “But broke… promise.” Her body tightens, and I watch the pain flash across her eyes. “Ahhh,” she screams until it passes a few moments later. “Baby.”
“Pressure on the wound,” Remy orders. “Put pressure on it, and let’s get her the fuck out of here.”
Trucks and bikes stop. All of them, men who came to help find her, and I don’t care.
“He’s at the camp,” Poppy says hoarsely. “Only made it a little bit before the pain.”
The men who stop continue on, Dean leading the way.
I don’t care about anyone but the woman in my arms. The baby she carries. Our son. Everything and everyone else can rot as far as I’m concerned. I hope Ortega is dead. Not for the pain it will cause Poppy for taking a life, but because she’ll be safe from him.
I lift her up, and her eyes snap open. More alert than they should be .
“Don’t you fucking drop me.” The venom in her voice surprises me. “I’m in fucking labor and that asshole stabbed me. I’m not going to let you drop me, too.”
“Did you drop her or something?” Remy asks from my side, breaking the tension in the air. “She’s irrationally afraid of you dropping her and that only comes from someone being dropped.”
“No,” Poppy bites at him. “Back the fuck away, Remington Townsend. You’re not seeing my lady bits. That’s not happening. I’ll die before you see my vagina.”
The back door to the van is open, and Niles sits there with his tablet by his side and med bag in hand. “Did she say she’s in labor?”
“You’re not having him now,” I tell her. “You’ll make it to the hospital. We’ve got time.”
Niles eyes her stomach, whistling when he sees how deep the wound is under her shirt. “I’m surprised she made it as far as she did with this. Your woman’s a badass, Pierce.”
“Lo.” Poppy’s eyes are dropping. “I don’t feel good.”
When she faints in my arms, I’m doing my best not to lose it. I barely manage to hold on because I can feel the steady, if horrifyingly slow, beat of her heart in her chest.
“She’s gonna make it.”
I’m not sure who I’m even telling at this point.
We split into two groups. One, loading up with me and Poppy in the first van. The other, proceeding to the camp to make sure that Ortega’s taken care of and the officials are notified.
I don’t care about anyone or anything else but Poppy.
She doesn’t make it to the hospital.
We make it to the parking lot of the hospital a half hour away from where we found her.
“He’s coming.” She grabs my ear and practically rips it off my head as she pulls me to her face. “Don’t let them see me, Logan.”
The door to the van slides open, and Sam stands there with a shocked expression on his face. “Holy shit, Poppy. You’ve got a baby coming out of you.”
“Go away!” she screams at the top of her lungs. “Sammy don’t look.”
Sam moves, and I take his spot, just in time to catch my son. My beautiful, red-haired son. The son who screams at the top of his lungs while I hold him, and I’m not bothering to hide the fact that I’m crying again.
“Poppy, he’s here.” I smile up at her, to see her staring at me with relief. “He’s here.”
“Baxter,” she whispers, staring at him with a sad smile on her face. Right before Poppy’s eyes roll into the back of her head, and she dies again.
At least, she tries to.
The paramedics shove me aside as soon as they take my son, strapping him and Poppy together on a gurney. Then we follow them into the hospital, ignoring the looks of confusion and the people flat-out telling us to leave.
“Listen here.” Kyle Harmon appears out of nowhere, snapping at someone in scrubs. “You know what this is. The stress on her heart. She’s going in so that we can stop the bleeding and make sure everything’s okay, Logan. You have to sit. She’s alive. He’s alive. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”
I sit the fuck down.
And I keep my eyes locked on the door.
“Someone call her mom. My mom. Call them,” I mutter when the others sit next to me.
An arm comes around my shoulders, and I look over to see Evie there. “I called them. Mom’s on her way. Your mom is still with Bax. Emily and Finn both know. Finn’s trying to get leave. Emily’s on her way, too.”
She looks over at the other men and then back to me, lowering her voice. “Dad said Poppy was right. About Ortega. She hit him hard.”
She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.
Poppy’s words are right there in my mind.
She killed him.
“Mom gave me this from Grandma for you.” Evie slides a ring into my hand. “Ask her while she’s on the good drugs, okay?”
She moves away, leaving me sitting alone while I wait for hours.
“I might have to move up your way,” Angelo groans as he sits down next to me, offering a cup of Dunkin’ when he’s situated himself. “Southie isn’t as appealin’ now that I’m upta Maine.”
“You’ll never leave,” Niles tells him from his other side. “Too many good things down there for you to pass up.”
“An’ bad too.” Angelo laughs.
“You called in every single favor you could to save her, and she saved herself,” Niles notes quietly. “ Don’t worry about a little heart condition. She’s not gonna let it keep her down.”
“It’s called Broken Heart Syndrome.” Dean appears, looking twenty years older than he did before his daughter was taken. “She’s had it since she was shot when she was sixteen. Stress, it could kill her.”
“She should get rid of Logan, then.” Evie snorts from across the room. “He’s the most stressful thing in her life.”
I shoot her a dark glare.
Poppy isn’t getting rid of me.
Not any time in the next fifty years.
Not ever, if I have anything to do with it.
Kennedy and Parker take care of it for me, though, by sitting on either side of her and taking turns pulling on her hair. Then, before she can retaliate, Parker shoves one of the twins into Evie’s arms.
“Here,” she says with a smile. “Hold this.”
Remy has the other twin in his arms, and Linc is holding their other daughter, Cassie.
Nox is sitting on the ground next to the little blond girl that Dom’s parents are in the process of adopting. Next to him is Emma, who has her head resting on Dom’s lap .
All of the women, without exception, have red eyes from crying. And most of the men, too.
Chloe catches my eye and nods toward the door behind me. Kyle appears out of nowhere, and I’m up like my ass has been lit on fire.
“She’s been moved to her room. Both Poppy and the baby are fine,” he adds immediately. “I told you.”
I motion to the doors. “Lead me to my woman and kid,” I snap irately.
Without looking back, I know that the chuckles are coming from the men I trust with my life. The ones who won’t hesitate to do the same.
And I go to the only woman who’s ever mattered.
“I’m sorry about Bax,” she cries as soon as I step into the room. “I’m so sorry.”
Our boy is in her arms, and Poppy is crying so hard that her tears are landing on his sleeping face.
“He’s alive,” I tell her. “Doctor thinks he might live.”
“We’re still naming him Baxter.” She sniffs, the tears still falling. “Baxter Porsche.”
“No,” I tell her. “We’re not giving him the middle name Porsche. ”
Poppy cries some more. “I don’t know their real names. And they died for me.”
There is only one way to make her stop crying. But first, I need to feel her in my arms.
“I love you,” I tell her once I wash my hands again.
Then, before she can say anything, I kiss her.
“I love you, and you saved yourself, and I can’t live my life without you, Poppy. I can’t exist in a world where you’re not by my side. I was coming for you before I found out about the baby. I was so convinced that I had to keep you alive by staying away. I told myself that if I left you alone, it would make up for the fact that I got you shot. That you almost died. And then I almost lost you.”
“Shut up, Logan.” Poppy brings her free arm up to cup my cheek. “It’s my turn.”
I shut up, following her orders like I had Kyle’s when he saved her life.
“I don’t care that he shot me because of you. I never cared why. I don’t like being lied to. Even a lie by omission. Lies… they have a way of destroying everything and anything. And you left me alone for two days, instead of following me home.”
“I was arrested,” I tell her. “Or I would have come for you immediately. Ortega filed a complaint, and an overeager Maine state trooper arrested all of us. It was part of his plan to get to you.” Turning my face until her palm touches my lips, I kiss it. “I would have been there. Almost as soon as you left, I knew I had to talk to you.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s dead.” She sniffs and then moves her hand so that I have to look at her again. “I love you too, Logan. Since we’re being honest here. The last time I told you I loved you, I almost died and you left me. I thought… if I didn’t say it, then you wouldn’t leave me.”
“Marry me.” I pull out the ring that Evie delivered while we were waiting. “Marry me and make me happy. I’ll never leave you, Poppy. And if this ring isn’t good enough, I’ll go get my grandmother’s ring, because both of our parents offered.”
“What if I’m arrested for murder?”
I see the insecurity there, the fear that comes from what she’s done, even if she did it well within the bounds of self-defense.
“You’ll look good in orange.” I shrug. Then I pull out my phone and call her father, deciding not to tell her that she isn’t going away for murder. No matter what I have to do, she won’t suffer for protecting herself and our baby.
“Send me pictures of the boy,” he snaps when he answers the phone. “They won’t let us back for another hour or more. I need to see him. Before you send it to your father,” he adds on, even though I can hear my dad complaining next to him.
“Got it,” I agree. “But first. What were their real names?”
I don’t need to clarify. Both Poppy and her father understand exactly what I’m talking about. Poppy’s eyes fill with tears again, and Dean clears his throat on the other end of the call.
I put the phone on speaker. “Killian and John.”
“Got it.” I hang up, looking at Poppy.
“He doesn’t look like a John,” I tell her, running my finger down his nose, like I’ve seen her do to the other babies. “Killian?”
“Killian John Pierce.” Poppy smiles. “I like it.”
“Please, do not let people call him Ian.” I snort. “It’ll give Ian a bigger head than he already has.”
Poppy surprises me. “Why haven’t you given me my ring, Lo? If I’m marrying you, I need my ring.”
I slide it onto her finger, kissing her on the cheek afterward.
How is this my life?
“We have to wait until all the babies are born.” Her eyebrows narrow into a hard line while we both stare at our son. “No one can go into labor on the dance floor. I’m done seeing vaginas that aren’t mine.”
“Speaking of which?—”
She cuts me off by slapping her hand over my mouth, and I smile at the sight of the ring on her finger. My ring. “Nope. No. I don’t care who saw what or what happened. I don’t ever want to know.”
“I love you,” I mumble behind her hand, pulling it down so that I can kiss her again.
“I love you too, Lo. But I never want to eat another taco again.”