Page 8 of Stitch & Steel

Eight

LOGAN

Sawdust and cornbread was thick in the air, the kind of scent that should’ve made a man feel settled.

But I wasn’t settled.

Not even close.

We were halfway through bolting in the reinforced backdoor when I realized something was off. Scout wasn’t barking at the birds. Bella wasn’t laughing or muttering at him. The garden was quiet—too quiet.

Then it came.

A sharp bark.

Alert, not playful.

Followed by a sound that turned my blood to ice.

A scream.

Not loud. Not long. But real.

“Bella!”

My voice cracked like gunfire as I tore off the porch, boots sliding in the dirt. My hand was already on my Glock, finger near the trigger. The world went quiet. Every instinct sharpened. I ran toward the trees where Scout’s bark echoed louder, frantic.

I wasn’t just worried.

I was terrified.

Scout only made that sound when he sensed a threat. And Bella wasn’t the type to scream at a squirrel or twist her ankle on a root. Something was wrong.

Bullet came running behind me, axe in hand, ready for war.

The second I saw her silhouette standing just inside the tree line, clutching Scout’s collar and shaking—I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

But when I saw her eyes… wild, panicked, darting back toward the woods… my fury boiled over.

“What happened?” I reached her in two strides, cupping her face with both hands, eyes scanning her for blood, bruises—anything. “Talk to me, darlin’. You okay?”

She nodded shakily. “He was right there. He said my name. He smiled like he knew me, Logan. He touched Scout and then… he just stared. Too long. Like he was enjoying it.”

My spine snapped straight. Every muscle in my body went tense.

“Which way?” I asked, already turning.

She pointed, and that was all I needed.

I took off into the woods, boots hammering the dirt, heart thudding in my chest like war drums. Branches whipped at my face. I didn’t care. My only thought was find him .

He was fast. Knew how to move through the brush. But not well enough.

I caught a glimpse—dark flannel, short hair, broad shoulders. A bastard who smiled at my girl like she was prey.

“Hey!” I roared.

He glanced over his shoulder. Saw me coming.

And ran harder.

I tore after him, but the trees thickened fast, and he dove down a slope slick with pine needles. By the time I cleared the drop, he was gone. Like he’d vanished into the trees.

“Fuck!” I slammed a hand against the nearest trunk, chest heaving.

I’d almost had him. Almost.

Back at the cabin, the sound of Scout barking again drew me out. Bullet caught up, breathless, shaking his head. “Gone?”

“Yeah,” I gritted out. “But I saw him. He wasn’t just wandering. He knew who she was. He came to see her.”

“You want me to alert the boys?” Bullet asked.

“Tell them to fan out. Quiet. Don’t spook Gran. Don’t scare Bella any worse than she already is.”

Back at the edge of the yard, Bella was still sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees. Scout pressed against her side like he wasn’t letting her go ever again.

My heart cracked right down the middle.

I wanted to find that son of a bitch and rip him apart.

But right now?

I had a trembling girl to protect.

I knelt in front of her, gently prying one of her hands free and pressing it against my chest. “You’re safe. I swear it, Bella. I’ll die before I let anyone get near you again.”

Her eyes welled up. “I was so scared.”

“I know.” My voice broke. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She buried her face in my shoulder, and I held her there, grounding her as much as I was grounding myself. The burn of failure still singed my veins—I hadn’t gotten to her fast enough.

But it wouldn’t happen again.

The gloves were off.

No more pledges. No more distance.

From now on, I’d be here. Inside this house. Every night. Every hour.

She was mine to protect.

And I was going to make damn sure no one ever made her scream like that again.

Her forehead was pressed to my chest, her breath warm against my shirt, but it was the trembling in her shoulders that gutted me.

I’d seen combat. I’d buried brothers. I’d faced down barrels and blades and the worst mankind could offer.

But nothing— nothing —had ever wrecked me like the sight of her shaking.

I held her tighter, like if I wrapped myself around her hard enough, I could absorb the fear. The danger. The memory of that bastard smiling like she was something to play with.

She wasn’t.

She was mine.

And yeah—I hadn’t earned that word yet. Not officially. But it didn’t matter.

Because in that moment, with Scout flanking her and the scent of wildflowers in her hair, I knew.

I was holding something more precious than gold, more fragile than glass.

A damn jewel in my arms, and for once in my reckless, blood-soaked life, I wanted to keep it.

Not own. Not claim.

Cherish.

It hit me like a fist to the gut. The weight of it. The rightness.

I wanted to be the kind of man she could believe in—not the kind who stormed into her life with chaos at his back, but the kind who stayed. Who fixed porch steps, drank her damn iced tea, and memorized the way her laugh tripped up when she tried not to smile at me.

I’d been born into a world where love got you killed or left behind.

But now?

Now I wasn’t sure I could breathe if I let her go.

I felt something for her—true and strong. Not just heat, not just hunger. Though God knew that was there too. The way her shirt clung to her back with sweat, the curve of her waist, the way she fit in my arms like she’d always belonged there.

But it wasn’t about that anymore.

It was about waking up to her voice in the kitchen. Watching her teach Scout dumb tricks while Gran fried bacon. Listening to her rant about lesson plans and coffee that tasted like cardboard.

I wanted to court her. Old-fashioned. Slow. Real.

Woo her the way she deserved.

Sunrise fishing, gemstone panning, motorcycle rides through winding roads with nothing but pine and promise around us. Her arms wrapped around my waist. Her voice in my ear. Her trust in my hands.

She didn’t want an MC man. I knew that.

But I’d show her that I was more than ink and engines.

I was hers.

If she wanted me.

And damn me twice if I didn’t think that maybe—just maybe—she’d want to try.

Before I could think past my own damn heartbeat, I reached for her.

Fingers under her chin, gentle but firm, lifting her face until her eyes met mine.

God.

They were wide and wet, pupils still blown from fear, but there was something else in them now too—something soft. Open. Waiting.

My thumb brushed her cheek.

And I kissed her.

Not hard. Not rough.

But like a question.

A whisper of something more. Something real.

For a second, she froze—still caught in the adrenaline of what just happened. But when she didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, I let myself sink deeper.

The kiss shifted.

Less question. More answer.

My hand curled around the back of her neck, and her lips parted just enough for me to taste her—sweet like honey, like something wild and untamed and blooming right in my arms.

I hadn’t planned this.

Hadn’t meant to cross the line.

But the line had blurred the second I saw her out there in the grass, clutching Scout and shaking like a leaf on a wire.

Now she was here, pressed against me, and something inside me cracked wide open.

It wasn’t just heat.

It was warmth .

Rooted. Growing. Alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

This kiss wasn’t about claiming her. It wasn’t about the danger or the high.

It was a promise.

That no matter what came next—bodies on the highway, cartel threats, late-night fear—I’d be here.

For her.

I pulled back just enough to see her face.

Flushed. Breathless. Lips swollen from the kiss we just shared. And God help me, if I hadn’t just tasted heaven, I didn’t know what the hell that was.

But beneath all that softness—there was something else. Uncertainty.

She blinked up at me like she wasn’t sure if what just happened was real.

And I knew right then—I couldn’t let her doubt it.

I couldn’t let anything happen to her.

Not while she was under my watch.

The kiss had lit a fuse inside me. Not just lust, not just that wild ache she stirred in my blood—but a primal need to protect. To lock down this place so tight not even a shadow could slip through the trees.

My girl had been spooked on her own damn property.

Hell. No.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and fired off a text to Bullet.

Need two more hands up here. Bring tools. Reinforcements. Barbed wire. We’re fortifying everything.

Then I added:

Razor-wire perimeter. I’m not playing anymore.

.

I felt Bella’s gaze on me as I slipped the phone back in my pocket.

“You’re calling in backup?” she asked, voice still shaky, but stronger than I expected.

I nodded, jaw tight. “This place isn’t secure enough. Not for Gran. Not for you.”

Her brows drew together. “You’re not actually putting razor wire around my gran’s tomato plants, are you?”

I didn’t smile. Not even a little.

“Damn right I am. Or I will if I have to.”

She looked like she wanted to argue—but then her mouth shut again. Probably saw the fire in my eyes. The way I wasn’t messing around.

“I kissed you,” I said, stepping closer again, needing her to hear me now, “because I wanted to. Because I needed to. But that doesn’t change what’s going on out here.”

“You think that guy’s coming back?”

“I think whoever hired him might be.”

Her eyes widened.

“Cartels,” I said quietly. “Rival MCs. Could’ve been anything—but it was a warning. One I heard loud and clear.”

She crossed her arms, a flicker of that fire returning to her expression. “You’re not putting me in a cage, Logan.”

I leaned in, brushing her damp hair off her face.

“Not a cage, darlin’. A fortress.”

Because now that I’d had a taste—just a taste—of what it felt like to kiss her, to hold her, to protect her?

There was no turning back.

I was going to make this mountain the safest damn place in the Appalachian range.

And then I was going to make her mine.

Slowly.

Properly.

But fully.

And God help whoever tried to come between me and that.