Page 71 of No First Kisses

Hope that he isn’t hurt, that he’s gotten away, fills my bones.

For a second.

Until I see his face.

His lifeless and bloody face, staring directly at me through the wooden slats on the porch.

So much blood.

My heart lurches, and short gasping breaths for air bring tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Bax?” Calling out his name like it will wake him up, I yank as hard as I can away from the jackass who refuses to let go. “Bax, you better wake the fuck up before Logan loses his shit on you.” No movement. “Please, Bax. Don’t do this to him. Don’t do this.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ortega hisses, spit flying into my face. “Before I put a bullet in your head.”

The gun is there, pressing into the tender skin on my temple, and the pressure sends the now-familiar jab of pain into my head and neck, down into my spine. Like he found the one spot on my body that moves through everything.

But I don’t let my eyes stray from Bax.

His blank stare means I am all alone. I can’t hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. There aren’t any motorcycle engines roaring to my rescue. None of the men—the heroes that I couldn’t get rid of when I didn’t want them—are coming to save the day. There is no one.

No one but me.

“Get the fuck in.” Ortega rips open the rear door with his hand. “I’d stuff you in the trunk, but you’re too fucking fat.”

“No.” I shake my head, ignoring the wave of nausea that comes with the movement, and pull away from the sound of my hair being torn out of my head. “I’m not doing it.”

“If you don’t get the fuck in, I’m just going to put a bullet through your stomach, and when you finish losing that little bastard, I’m going to put another one through your head. That’s the mistake I made last time, you know. I didn’t stay and wait to make sure I finished the job.”

I get in the car.

Less than five minutes. That’s how long everything takes. From the first gunshot until he forces me into the vehicle.

I don’t buy myself enough time before he is pulling out onto the street, heading away from Birch and any sort of civilization.

Breathe.

I order myself to stay calm, which would have been a lot easier if I wasn’t freaking out and hormonal.

But I take breath after breath, bringing air into my lungs as I push through the nausea and pain.

I didn’t get a chance to tell Logan I love him.

Breathe through the pain.

That I forgive him for keeping secrets.

Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

I haven’t seen him in two days. Two days that feel like they’ve lasted longer than the entire last fourteen years put together.

Breathe so you can tell him.

I’m not stupid.

I know how to survive.

And I don’t need a man to come to the rescue.

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