Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(70)

She gasped as he reached down and picked Dorian up again by the front of his shirt.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


SO FURIOUS THAT HE SHOOK, physically shook, Logan jerked Paige’s attacker off the ground, manually picking him back up by his shirtfront.

Glancing over Dorian’s shoulder, Logan checked on Paige. The tears streaming down her cheeks gave her raccoon eyes while a red smudge rimmed the corner of her lip. And one side of her face—the opposite side of her already bruised cheek—looked significantly darker than the other, as if she’d been hit or slapped. Huddled on the ground, she fumbled to yank up the broken strap of her dress, covering herself.

When a terrified hiccup escaped her, he saw red. Literally. A red haze of anger clouded his vision. Returning his attention to Dorian, he saw the bleeding man in nothing but shades of crimson.

“You need to leave. Now.”

Gripping his nose with his hand, Dorian Wade didn’t leave. He snarled and shoved Logan. “Who ’da f*ck do you think you are, hitting me?” When he focused on the red shirt in front of him, he slurred, “Oh, hell no. Designated Dave is not going to kick my ass.”

He swung but missed when Logan ducked out of his way. Then the drunk idiot came back for more. When one of his swings was lucky enough to catch Logan in the temple, Logan reared his elbow back and punched forward. The satisfying crunch of knuckle into jaw actually sounded good to his ear.

But it caused Dorian’s head to snap back and his legs to go limp. Behind him, Paige screamed as Dorian slumped to the ground.

And didn’t stir.

He blinked at the unmoving body, reality seizing him. A flicker of Trace Zukowski’s dead eyes staring up at him as he lay crumbled in nearly the same limp position.

“Oh, God.” He rasped a terrified curse, and spun around to face Paige when her soft hand touched his elbow. “Is he dead?”

She shivered without answering and didn’t take her horrified stare off Dorian’s crumpled form.

Logan broke away and dropped to his knees in front of a potted plant, where he emptied his stomach.

“Hey, what just happened?” someone asked from behind him.

“Dude, I think Designated Dave just beat the shit out of Dorian Wade.”

“Paige? Oh my God, Paige. Are you okay? What happened?”

“What’s going on out here?”

When Logan stopped vomiting, he sat back on his haunches to find the small backyard patio packed with people. Looking for Paige in the crowd, he found her with her roommate as Mariah corralled her back toward the house. Then he checked on Dorian just as one of the onlookers finally darted forward and knelt beside the prone quarterback.

He held his breath, waiting, ready to learn he’d killed again, when Dorian groaned and rolled onto his side, curling into the fetal position to hug his ribs. Logan exhaled, so relieved he almost passed out. He slumped onto a picnic table bench and cupped his head in his hands.

Time passed, but he wasn’t sure how long. No one approached him, and he didn’t want to be approached. When someone shouted, “Campus police is here! Who called the cops?” he lifted his face and stood up.

He watched dispassionately as a receiver for the football team helped a barely conscious Dorian stand upright as he spoke to a pair of uniformed men. When he turned and pointed at Logan, Logan braced himself, wondering if he was going to spend the night in jail for assaulting the star quarterback.

The two officers approached him, their stern expressions masked with disapproval. Dazed that this was happening again, he answered their questions, gave his account, and kept glancing around for Paige. When he realized he wasn’t going to be incarcerated, he lost a little of his patience.

“Have you talked to the girl yet?” he had to ask in the middle of his interrogation. “Is she okay?”

One officer nodded. “She’s fine. A little shaken. Her roommate’s already taken her back to her dormitory.”

Logan nodded, slightly relieved. “Is Wade going to jail?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he glanced across the crowd where a group of fraternity guys were trying to take care of Dorian as they helped him stumble inside.

Both cops paused and shared a look. That would be a no, Logan decided. Their precious quarterback would not be going to jail.

“He was going to rape her, you know. If I hadn’t showed up, he—he wasn’t going to stop, no matter how much she resisted.” God, just thinking about the possibilities of what could have happened made him vibrate with fury all over again.

“We’re aware the two had a slight misunderstanding.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He was surprised he didn’t crack a couple teeth he gnashed them together so hard. “Misunderstanding?” He’d seen no such thing. Paige had been screaming behind the hand over her mouth, and Wade had been—

Probably shouldn’t let himself think about that again.

“Miss Zukowski realizes Wade had no intention of hurting her, and Mr. Wade realizes he scared her needlessly. She didn’t press charges, so there’s no need for anyone to go to jail.”

Logan just stared at them, disbelieving, wondering if she’d really said that or if they’d even talked to her. It seemed incomprehensible that there would be no justice for Paige. Had they not seen the trembling tears in her eyes, the way she’d shaken with fear, the torn strap of her dress, the fresh marks on her already bruised face?