Cole nodded, but Logan got the feeling he was very far from okay.
“Hey.” He reached out and cupped his jaw, tilting his head until their eyes met. “We’ll get out of here, and then I’m going take you to meet up with the others.” He didn’t say it’d all be all right, because he had no idea if it would be.
“Okay.”
Cole turned and hurried up the stairs in front of him, seemingly oblivious to his injuries. They needed to take advantage of the adrenaline still pumping through his body, because when that wore off, it was going to be bad.
Logan took the fastest shower he could manage while still getting all the blood off him, and Cole searched the bathroom cabinets.
“Anything?” Logan asked when he got out, having to make do with a hand towel to dry himself.
Cole glanced up at him from where he crouched on the floor in front of the cabinet. His gaze caught and held on Logan’s bare chest, dipping lower before darting back up, and Logan was suddenly acutely aware of his nakedness. Not something that usually bothered him, but this was Cole.
Colour bloomed in Cole’s cheeks, and he swallowed before shaking his head quickly. “No, nothing.” He stood and marched out of the bathroom, banging open drawers in one of the bedrooms. “Who doesn’t have at least a basic first aid kit?” he yelled, stalking back into the hallway.
“A shifter.”
Logan walked past him into the bedroom and managed to find a T-shirt and joggers that sort of fit him.
“A shifter?” Cole followed him. “So there’s more than a few of you lot doing this? I’d kinda assumed you were the exception.”
Logan sighed. “There’s more than just me. I have no idea exactly how many, though.”
Cole took a moment to digest that piece of information. “But what about the humans that come here, what if any of them are injured?”
“They don’t stay at the handover places long, and there’s always one in the van we take from here.”
“Fat lot of good that does me,” Cole muttered.
“I know. We’ll just have to do the best we can and get you sorted at the next place. They’ll have proper supplies.” He steered Cole towards the bathroom. “But we need to be quick.”
Cole watched as Logan tore at his shirt until it fell away. “Because others are on their way?”
“Yeah.” Using another of the hand towels, Logan cleaned the wound as best he could, then used a clean bit of Cole’s torn shirt as a bandage. He had no idea what he was doing. Shifters didn’t need first aid like this. The wound didn’t look too bad, a graze like Cole had said, but it was still bleeding. Logan ripped the towel and wadded it up, wrapping the bandage around it.
“How’s your leg?” Logan bent to inspect it, but Cole pushed on his shoulder.
“It’s fine, can we please just get out of here.”
Logan hesitated, but Cole was right. They could look at his leg when they got to Carnglaze.
After finding Cole a fresh shirt and a coat, they hurried back downstairs. Logan scooped up the gun and led the way outside.
“How are we going to get away from here now?” Cole pointed at the van they’d arrived in. All four tyres were slashed. Next to it sat a sleek new BMW. “That one?” He started towards it, but Logan stopped him.
“No. It has an inbuilt tracker.” Logan jogged over to the garage, hoping like hell they’d find a car inside.
Cole waved his good arm at the empty garage. “Then how?”
Logan’s stomach sank. Until he saw the motorbike at the back. Not ideal, especially considering Cole was going to have a pretty big adrenaline crash soon, but it would get them away from here and somewhere relatively safe. Hopefully it’d have a full tank, they couldn’t afford to stop anywhere for fuel.
He found the keys on a hook on the wall and pushed the bike outside. “Get on.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cole clung to Logan’s back as they raced down the country roads away from the cottage. He’d tried shutting his eyes, but the images that filled his head weren’t anything he wanted to revisit.
Jesus Christ.
