LOGAN (BAD BOY BIKER ROMANCE) (4 page)

Logan's eyes lit up. "Strip for me, huh? Only the cute ones."

Oliver wasn't sure if the beer was fast acting, or he was just so relieved Logan really didn't think he was a cop, but he wanted this man. Right then and there.

Oliver stood. "I don't take my clothes off for just anyone, now, you hear me?" He strutted around a little. Wiggling his butt. Logan feasted on him with his eyes.

Oliver suddenly jumped onto his lap, startling Logan. "I'll only get naked for my hero." He straddled him in the chair, Logan's legs were wide and muscular causing him to stretch out more. Oliver was flexible.

Logan's put his bottle down on the table, and gripped his hips with his large hands. "Hero, huh? Why am I a hero?"

Oliver put his bottle down, too. He leaned in close to Logan. His smell, his musk, was intoxicating. He found he couldn't help himself anymore. "You saved me today. From that scumbag."

"Ah, right," Logan said, pulling Oliver in closer to him. Their muscular chests pressed hard against each other. "I forgot about that."

Oliver feigned a pout. "You forgot?" He wrapped his arms around Logan's head, ran a hand through the short hair at the back of his neck. "How can you forget?"

He chuckled, and for a moment his guard was down. Oliver saw the real him under that tough exterior. But then it was gone, his guard back up. "No, I forgot him. He's not even worth thinking about. But you certainly are."

Logan kissed him, and his mouth was hungrily waiting for him.

The practically devoured one another. Hot and passionate, tongues playing over each other, hands grasping and squeezing. For long minutes they did nothing but kiss, enjoying each other's taste. Playfully biting one another's lips. Seeking out bare flesh under loose clothing.

Oh, my God! Oliver allowed himself to think. When he could. He is delicious!

Just then a cell phone rang.

Oliver, tongue buried deep into Logan's mouth, seeking his tonsils, grunted with frustration.

The cell phone kept ringing.

This time Logan gently pushed Oliver back, their mouths unlocking for the first time in a while.

"Sorry," he said, a little out of breath. "I have to take this."

Trying not to pout too much, Oliver slipped off of Logan's lap and onto the bed. It was getting seriously hot in here.

Logan pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and answered simply, "Speak."

He listened for a few moments, but his eyes played over Oliver's body, then locked eyes with him.

Oliver felt himself melt even more.

Then Logan hung up, and frowned. He looked very disappointed. "I gotta run," he said. "Business." He said that word with a sense of finality. Like it was immutable, unquestionable.

"Okay," Oliver said. He was starting to feel deflated, but his heart was still hammering in his chest. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off, later?" It sounded very hopeful, but he didn't care. He meant it.

"You can count on it," Logan said. "I promise you that."

He then stood and gave him another kiss. This one quick but still had some serious heat to it. Then he walked over and opened the door.

Logan paused inside the doorway and turned back to his. His expression was of an almost boyish amusement. "Hey, I forgot to ask you."

"Ask me what?"

"What's your name?" he grinned.

They both laughed at this. Oliver felt himself turning beat red.

Oh, my God, he thought. I'm such a little slut.

"Oliver," he said. "My name is Oliver."

"Oliver?" Logan said. "I like that. A very beautiful name for a very beautiful guy."

Oliver was a little dumbfounded, caught up by the moment.

Then Logan was gone, closing the door behind him.

Oliver rushed to the window and peeked out through the closed drapes. He watched Logan's muscular butt move in his jeans as he walked to his car.

My, what a magnificent specimen.

Logan pulled out and drove by. Oliver couldn't tell if he was looking in his direction with all the heavy window tinting but he waved anyway, feeling a little foolish.

That man will be mine. More than that. I will be his. His boyfriend.

And Oliver knew just what was required to secure that possibility.

He was going to win that damn audition.

Chapter 5

Logan

It had been several hours since he left Oliver, but Logan still kept thinking about him. This was as surprising to him as it was annoying.

He had switched cars, ran some errands, and gone home for some sleep. It was gonna be a late night.

Now he was parked on a small deserted side street near the industrial park. Dusk was approaching, and the blazing sun was vanishing behind the distant hills.

He checked the time on his cell phone. No one from the Club, or their immediate associates carried, or used, Smart phones. The GPS made them too traceable. So crappy little cell phones was as luxurious as it got for the one percenters.

It was 8:20. Growing more annoyed, Logan looked around the empty street. No one was around. Where was this guy?

Then someone appear from out of an alley, covered in the deepening shadow of the growing night. Logan squinted but couldn't make out who it was. His hand gripped the pistol that was wedged under his leg.

Suddenly, the figure stopped walking, looking in the direction of Logan's vehicle.

"The hell is this?" Logan grumbled. His grip tightened on the pistol.

The figure resumed walking again, but this time in a more hurried pace.

Ah, crap, thought Logan. I'm gonna get hit. His finger slipped over the trigger. He strained to see who it was, if they were going pull on him right here on the street.

At the last possible moment, the figure stepped under a street light. Logan exhaled in relief. It was Perry.

Perry walked up to the passenger side of Logan's car and peered in.

"Get in!" Logan said, ticked off.

Perry practically jumped in, slamming the door loudly. "God,"  he said, "Where'd you get such a crappy car..." he didn't finish because Logan punched him.

Perry was blindsided and his head bounced of the passenger door window with a loud thunk.

"That is for being late," Logan said. "You were suppose to be here twenty damn minutes ago."

Perry was rubbing the side of his jaw, looking a little bewildered. "Sorry, I couldn't find this spot. It's getting dark..." Logan punched him again.

"Ah!" Perry cried out. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry."

Logan was now making a visible effort to restrain himself. Go figure he'd get a dumb ass Hang Around assigned to do this one little task, and screw it up.

"You should have been here an hour earlier, then," Logan said. "Two hours, even. I don't give a damn if you had to sit in a dumpster and wait for me all day long. When you are given a task, you do it. And you make sure you're prepared. And you sure as hell don't come up on me like that in the dark. I almost capped you!" Logan shook his head in disappointment.

Perry was nodding his head. Logan swore he heard a faint rattling from within.

"You got it?" Logan finally asked.

Perry nodded more vigorously. "Yeah, I got it. I understand. Come early. Be prepared."

Logan shut his eyes as his anger started to flare again. "I meant do you got it? The damned phone?"

Perry gaped at Logan like a landed fish. "Oh, yeah. You bet." He hastily reached into his leather jacket as Logan continued to give him the evil eye. He pulled out a cell phone, brand new.

Logan yanked it away from him and checked the phone's screen.

"I charged it already. No worries there. It's got that new number and all..." Perry stopped talking when Logan glared at him.

"Now what do you do?" Logan asked.

Perry tried not to look like he was thinking this over to hard. He obviously knew. He nodded once, and got out of the car, this time he didn't slam the door. He walked away quickly and vanished down the same alley he appeared from.

"At least you're smart enough to have figured that out," Logan said. If this was the sort of idiot the Macabre Jesters were now cultivating for future membership, things were going to get bad.

Something had to be done.

Just then the cell phone Perry had given him rang. 8:25 on the dot, he thought, and answered it.

"This phone smells like ass," came a gruff voice. Logan knew it very well. It was Jonah.

Logan laughed. "Probably because it's been up some Hang Around's butt all week."

"Don't remind me," Jonah said. "Hey, and congratulations, man."

Even though they would avoid specifics over the burner phones Logan knew Jonah was talking about his full member status. "Thanks to you, yeah."

"Nah, it was all you. This sort of thing just doesn't happen to idiots. Only smart idiots. And you're the smartest one I know."

"Thanks, but tell me something."

"What?"

"What kind of idiot punches out a cop in a crowded shopping mall in front of all those security cameras?"

Jonah laughed, "A dumb one. I admit it. But the twit was begging for it, I tell yeah."

Jonah had been shopping for new school clothes with his two daughters when a plain clothes detective started giving him grief at the store check out. Logan knew Jonah had a ferocious temper and lost his cool. No self respecting biker takes insults from anyone. Especially from the police. So Jonah decked the detective. Things would have gotten worse if it wasn't for the fact that Jonah's daughters were right there. Jonah would have beaten the other man to death. He'd done it before.

"Speaking of twits," Jonah continued, "How's the big M?" Milo.

"At arms length. Just this one thing and I'm on to my own thing."

"Yeah, well I appreciate that. M wasn't always a complete screw up. But sometimes being one of the upper class makes some guys go all Scarface, ya know?"

Milo was definitely having delusions of grandeur, far beyond his ability to make happen. Getting Ryder patched, or even becoming Club President. These things would never happen, but that wouldn't stop Milo from trying, or at least poisoning the well for anyone else.

"I hear you," Logan said. "But I got everything handle on this side of the wall."

Jonah was silent a moment then said, "You got everything handled, huh? So who is your new boy toy?"

Logan was shocked. "Jesus, man. You got wind of that already? Inside there? I just met him this morning, for pity sake."

"Well, when it comes to the new hot shot of the Club, everything becomes of interest to everyone else." Jonah was renowned as a master spy when it came to gathering intelligence. Other Clubs, police, politicians, and especially fellow Club members. This was one of the many aspects Logan hoped Jonah would eventually teach him. Of course, being subject of such information gathering didn't make it easy to deal with.

"He's cool," Logan said, and meant it.

"Well, have you checked him out yet?"

"Meaning?"

"I'm not talking about how his undies smell, but his background, his history?"

Logan frowned. "Nah, not yet. Like I said, I just met him this morning. I'm not a fool. Nothing about nothing will be discussed. Except maybe the smell of his undies."

Jonah didn't bite at the joke. He was all business at the moment. "Yeah, well. Don't let yourself get caught up with someone without a serious background check. I got people on it now."

Logan was surprised again. But he had to get use to who he was dealing with. And he couldn't ask who those people Jonah mentioned were, because Jonah would only share when he felt Logan was ready.

And certainly that information wouldn't be discussed over an ass smelling burner from within a prison.

Still, Logan was curious. "Anything I should know?" He was actually afraid to ask. Oliver seemed amazing, by all accounts. He didn't want any problems right now. He had his fair share at the moment.

Jonah covered the phone for a second. Logan could hear him giving grief to someone nearby. Then he was back. "Stupid Hang Arounds. It's like working with five year olds sometimes." Jonah turned his attention back to the conversation. "Your new friend is a former boy toy to some hot head in the Hounds."

The Silver Hounds. Logan took that in stride. Every stripper in existence crossed paths with a Biker, or some other member from a criminal element. He would have actually been surprised if he hadn't. As sweet as he was, Logan didn't think Oliver was into dating librarians.

"Okay, that a problem?" Logan asked.

"Not really. That's all I got at the moment. Might mean jack, but you should have a conversation with him anyways. Just so everything is on the level."

Logan sensed there was more to what Jonah was saying. Paranoia was always high with the Macabre Jesters. It helped keep members from being thrown in prison for long stretches.

"Yeah," Logan said. "Not a problem."

"Good," Jonah said. "Now, about our little thing."

"Gonna go check on that now. Make sure everything is cool."

Jonah was quiet, and Logan thought they had lost connection, or Jonah quickly dump the phone. But after a few moments he started to talk.

"Look, I got worries about M. He's trying too hard to get juice from within our little group and it ain't happening. So I'm concerned he'll try and get it another way."

"What way?"

"The wrong way," Jonah said. "Look, I gotta go. Just keep your eyes peeled."

Logan tried to end it with a bit of humor, "Eyes peeled for what?"

"A knife in the back," Jonah said, and suddenly hung up.

Logan sat in silence, phone in hand, staring out into the starry night, pondering those words.

After a few minutes he dismantled the burner phone. He started the car, and drove down the dark street. Every few blocks he tossed a part of the phone out; battery, casing, data card. Every criminal in existence knew this simple ritual could keep them out of jail. Logan had no intention of being the only Macabre Jesters in Club history to be caught with a burner linking him to something nefarious. Like talking to an incarcerated criminal.

He drove through the night, taking streets almost at random always keeping one eye on his rear view for signs of being followed. He was getting hungry, but would wait until after. Didn't need his face turning up of some security camera footage of some fast food joint, ordering. It would put him in the neighborhood at a specific time, and he couldn't have that.

He even stopped in another dark side street, and killed the lights. He kept watch in all directions. There was no way anyone could drive up on him, or even stop to watch him without being seeing.

After twenty minutes, he started up the car and headed to his intended destination.

He pulled up to a chain link fence, outside an old warehouse. The guard, a Club Hang Around, gave him a long look, nodded and rolled the gate open. Logan drove through. In his rear view he noted the Hang Around talk into a radio. Good. He drove to the other side of the building, out of sight of the street, parked and got out.

Here he could relax a little. There were security cameras but they didn't record. Why record your own criminal activity? They were just for seeing what was going on, not recording it as future evidence to be used in a court room.

Logan tried the back service door, and found it unlocked. He went inside, and was annoyed that there wasn't another guard stationed here.