Sassy Road

by Blaine, Destiny

  Damsel inched toward Logan’s bike. “I gotta tell ya, boy, I don’t know if we have any that look like her over at our place.”

  Apparently, Damsel had forgotten about his sidekick. Victory exited the market. She stood in the distance, shooting daggers in Sassy’s direction. If Victory only knew the dangers Damsel represented, the hell he could bring. Maybe then she wouldn’t cross her arms over her bosom, stomp her foot, and act like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. Then again, that’s the way Damsel liked his women—possessive, immature, and totally clueless.

  Damsel was less than three feet away. The wind brought a breeze of that thick mountain wood cologne he often wore, and Sassy felt woozy, extremely lightheaded.

  Tossed into yesteryear, Sassy found herself fighting for her next breath, suffocating under body weight and sweat, another violent attack she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

  “As always, Damsel…it’s good seeing you,” Logan drawled, shifting his weight on the bike as he steadied the machine under him.

  Sassy was drawn back into the present with Logan’s sudden movement. She glanced up, which was a mistake, and noted the mocking expression stamped upon Damsel’s ugly, and quite scarred, face.

  She ducked her head and looked away. She couldn’t force herself to maintain eye contact with the man who’d abused her, the stepfather who’d taken pleasure in her pain, not just once or twice, but for years and years. She felt ill, sick to her stomach.

  “You know the MC is a brotherhood,” Damsel said. “Brothers share from what I understand. Isn’t that what you heard, Mike?”

  “Damn straight,” the man at the back of the pack bellowed. “Old Devon couldn’t keep his cock in his pants. Seems a shame something like what Logan’s got should be kept for one man, huh?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Damsel said. “Remember, Logan—and you tell Devon this—we didn’t go skinny dipping in your pond first.”

  “I’m sure you have a hard time keeping your women in line,” Logan finally responded, laying his heel to the kickstand and balancing the bike.

  “Have you seen Devon tonight?” Gaylord asked.

  “We’re looking for him,” Damsel added.

  “Nope,” Logan replied. “You mean to tell me you haven’t seen him?”

  There was a touch of mischief in Logan’s voice, a tantalizing way the question came across, and Sassy wondered who this Devon person was and why his existence or whereabouts was a concern to either party. Obviously, their interest involved a woman, apparently one affiliated with the Angels.

  “You tell him I’m looking for him,” Damsel warned slowly, stepping into the bike and locking his forefinger around an exposed lock of Sassy’s red hair. “You tell him next time he decides to herd sheep, he’d better take ‘em to graze on your side of the fence. It’d be a damn shame to lose another member of the flock. You get me?”

  Logan stilled underneath Sassy’s trembling limbs. He straightened his back and said, “I guess that’s something you’d better tell Devon yourself.” A beat later, he added, “And don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.”

  Damsel was in Logan’s face without a second to spare, wagging his finger only inches from Logan’s nose. “Don’t threaten me, Marcs. I’ll take your woman, your Mama, and your broads if one of your club members ever strays near our women again. Understood?”

  Logan chuckled then pointed his finger toward the young woman who had been standing at Damsel’s side minutes earlier. “Your beef isn’t with me, Damsel. I’ve never been one to water my hose in deep wells.”

  Damsel clenched a tight fist and pounded his chest. “You want some of this?”

  Logan gave the bike some gas, and before he snapped open the throttle, he called over his shoulder, “I’ve got all I can handle right here.”

  Chapter Four

  Hours later, Logan watched her sleep. After their run-in with Damsel Road, Sassy had asked him to pull over on a side street where she’d dashed into the woods and apparently lost her lunch.

  When she’d returned, she’d tried to play it off like the beer hadn’t set right on her stomach, but Logan knew better. Damsel and his crew of burly fellows were scary guys. He could only imagine what must’ve been going through her head when Damsel had reached out and touched her.

  He’d later apologized for the way he’d behaved, explained that if he hadn’t suggested she belonged to him, the Angels could’ve and probably would’ve tried to take her right off the bike. Women willing to hang out with bikers were a dime a dozen, but those who weren’t already claimed as somebody’s old lady, and hadn’t been passed around by the club, were golden. Since she was a new face, the Devil’s Angels were wise to the fact that she probably wasn’t either—his woman or his club’s new flavor of the month.

  Logan paced the floor. For whatever reason, Damsel didn’t start a war when he’d had the chance. The motorcycle clubs around these parts, particularly the East Tennessee chapter of the Devil’s Angels, were notorious for taking what they wanted.

  Unfortunately, Damsel Road had seen Sassy and liked what he saw, or more precisely, spotted an opportunity for revenge. Undoubtedly, Damsel was wise to the fact his sheep had wandered, and when she strayed, Devon had been there to take advantage of a situation.

  Walking around to the side of the bed, Logan peered down at the pretty lady resting against his pillow. As he watched her chest rise and fall, he became stiff. An erection as hard as any he’d maintained in at least a year forced him to back away from temptation.

  His sudden movement caused a creak in the floor, and she tumbled one way and then the other. She became more restless, and her face twitched with visible and simultaneous spasms.

  Alarmed, he inched closer to the bed. His jaw tightened as he observed her. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered, stepping away as he processed.

  His mind traveled, returning him to the days of youth. The year was 1997. He was in the sixth grade, awkward, chunky, and quite unsure of himself. He’d spent the last year of elementary school coming to terms with the fact that he was a nerd, a natural brain all the other kids called unpleasant names. He’d also reached another decision that very same year.

  One day, he’d save kids like Sassy Road, the small girl who always sat in the back of the classroom, trying her best to remain quiet and out of sight, pulling on her sleeves in an effort to hide the bruises tainting her skin purple and blue.

  He sure enough remembered that late August day. He’d been relieved to see Sassy sitting in his homeroom. He recalled thinking even if they couldn’t be friends, because Sassy kept her distance from everyone, they still had something in common—they were alone. He’d taken a chair next to her, and from time to time, they’d share a knowing smile.

  Flash forward five years later, and Logan remembered seeing Sassy in their local high school hallways. By that time, he’d matured, towered over most of his classmates, and discovered he had a gift—a talent for throwing the football. He was in high demand by the local gals, but he still kept an eye on Sassy, going out of his way to speak to her whenever opportunity presented the chance.

  Sometimes, she acknowledged him with a lopsided grin. Other times, she hurried down the hall, mumbling to herself about being late for class. The few times she looked up long enough to speak, her muscle tics caused her to duck her head and run, and those spasms were unforgettable.

  There was no way this was a coincidence. The first name was the same. Her outer appearance was different but the trauma she’d endured throughout her life ensured one thing—she still had a nervous reaction to him and other events that caused her anxiety.

  Quietly, he exited the bedroom and pressed his head against the wall. “Sassy Road. I’ll be damned.”

  He’d known she looked familiar.

  If he wanted to be honest with himself, he’d immediately suspected who she was when she gave her name; something he realized was an accident. She’d slipped up right from the beginning, but why was she there? Why h
ad she come to Tennessee, to the very area where Damsel Road and his Devil’s Angels resided? ,

  The thumping vibration in the distance made him aware of the continuing party in the main part of the clubhouse. Sometimes, he wondered why he stayed there. He’d established himself as a member. After three years, he had the option of moving to his own place, but his superior had asked—on a favor—that he stay close and keep a keen eye on the club’s activities.

  With a gorgeous woman in his bed, Logan wished he was anywhere but there. Then again, Sassy probably wouldn’t be in the throes of a deep sleep if he’d been able to take her home, to a real private place where barriers weren’t in the way.

  “Barriers, hell,” he grumbled. She’d practically thrown herself at him once they’d entered the clubhouse. They’d consumed a few drinks, then noticing the glassy look in her eyes, he’d hauled her off to his room and tucked her in bed. The last thing she’d said to him was, “I like you, Logan Marcs. I’ve always liked you.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. She’d always liked him. He should’ve pressed her for what she meant, made her come clean. He could’ve said, “For what? All of ten or twelve hours?”

  He gnawed the inside of his jaw. “Why the hell are you here, Sassy Road?”

  “You talking to yourself again, Logan?” Cara asked, approaching him from the other end of the hall. She added a few extra sways to her hips as she pursued him.

  “Behave, Cara,” he said, staring down the bridge of his nose when she rubbed up against him.

  “I need a strong man to teach me how.”

  “Not now, Cara,” he grumbled, peeling her hands away from his arms before heading toward the party.

  “She’ll never keep somebody like you happy, Logan!” she shouted out in a drunken slur. “She ain’t woman enough!”

  Logan kept walking. Before he reentered the bar area of the clubhouse, he passed the meeting room. Hearing raised voices, he stalled at the door. After about a minute, he turned the doorknob and entered at his own risk.

  Tigger and Devon squared off, each man toddling a bit sideways, spewing their threats. “You put this entire club at risk!” Tigger yelled.

  “This club ain’t got a thing to do with what goes on in my private life!”

  “Tell that to him!” Tigger shouted, tilting his head toward the door. “Tell it to all of ‘em! If you’ve got the balls!”

  “What’s going on in here?” Logan asked calmly.

  “I thought you were getting what you ain’t had in a few decades!” Devon yelled.

  “This is between me and him,” Tigger said, glaring at Devon like he intended to kill him. “He’s gonna explain everything to the club in the morning.”

  “Like hell I will,” Devon fired back.

  Logan waited patiently for an explanation.

  He didn’t receive one. Instead, Tigger said, “Go back to bed with your woman.”

  Devon smirked. “Yeah, from what I hear she’s a keeper. I’d like to test that for myself, first.”

  “That won’t happen. She won’t be shared. I want her,” Logan stated flatly, unsure why he’d make such a statement before he’d even spent the night with her.

  “That good, was she?” Devon asked, placing his palms flat against the meeting table. He leaned over the wooden surface and added, “If you ask me, you finished with her too soon to make that kind of request.”

  “I’ve never been like the rest of you where women are concerned. Go ahead, poke fun all you want. I’ve been waiting for the right one to come along, and now, she has.”

  “Today,” Tigger reminded him. “You spend a few hours with her, and you’re ready to wrap our colors around her and call her yours? We don’t know anything about her.”

  “And those broads who traipse through our doors are always an open book? Come on!”

  “He’s got a point,” Devon said, dragging his hand down his face.

  The flared tempers were obviously under control for the time being. Quick forgiveness was one positive aspect of the MC’s brotherhood that Logan always admired. Even when there were unimaginable differences, arguments typically fizzled when a better topic arose.

  “So you want an old lady?” Devon asked, his gaze piercing through Logan’s. “Since when, man?”

  “There’s something special about her.” Logan wondered then. Was that the truth or was he stepping into his role of protector, doing what any other agent in the field might do as well?

  He was going out of his way to safeguard an innocent woman from becoming Heroes and Rogues property. And he was convinced he was staking a claim on the stepdaughter of Damsel Road, an act that would’ve been greatly frowned upon by the rest of the club.

  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “So she’s off limits?” Logan pressed.

  “Yeah, man, whatever. I’ve got my own problems. The club doesn’t need another broad to feed or a catfight if we bring in another outsider.”

  Tigger scoffed at that. “She’s a looker. You’ll regret your decision when you see her.”

  Logan wheeled around, taking a possessive front. “So you object?”

  “Who the hell wouldn’t?” Tigger asked. “She’s got a rack worthy of notice, flaming red hair down to that sweet ass of hers and more curves than a mountain highway. Fuck, man, she needs to be trained to submit to your ass, if you ask me. You ain’t gonna do it. You’ve been foaming at the mouth since she walked in here and flashed a first smile.”

  “I haven’t seen her smile.”

  Tigger grunted. “Maybe that’s because she has a thing for me. Ever thought about that?”

  “Sure, Tigger. That’s the only worry I possessed when I mentioned my intentions.”

  “And what are your goals again?” Devon asked, clearly inebriated.

  “She’s mine. Sassy belongs to me.”

  “I wonder what she’ll have to say about that,” Tigger said.

  “I guess we’ll wait and see,” Logan said, reaching a decision then. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Sassy was in town for a reason.

  Given her altered appearance, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d come there to kill the man who’d tortured her for over a decade. Did she want to look Damsel in the eye and show him that she was a survivor—a gal with a new body and gorgeous face, a person he could no longer control? What was her motive for showing up on the Heroes and Rogues’ doorstep?

  “You mean you came in here spouting claims and you haven’t even talked this over with her?” Devon asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Of course he hasn’t,” Tigger replied. “Hell, he just met her today.”

  Devon sighed, slumped in a nearby chair and averted his gaze away from the men, his eyes practically rolling back in his head. “I know a little bit about love at first sight.”

  Devon’s confession reminded Logan of his earlier confrontation. “I ran into Damsel tonight.”

  Devon sat upright. “Where?”

  “Why didn’t you mention something earlier?” Tigger asked.

  “Y’all were in party mode. I figured it could wait.”

  “After the meeting today, I’m surprised you made it back here in one piece,” Devon said.

  Tigger groaned. “Which brings me back to why I’m standing here now. What the hell happened today, Devon? Why all the secrets?”

  Devon and Logan exchanged a knowing glance. Clearing his throat, Devon said, “The meeting didn’t go well. The Angels said they’d quit dealing drugs when we stop our illegal gambling operations and prostitution.”

  “What?” Logan asked, his voice raised a few pitches. “Nothing was said about prostitution in front of me.”

  “That’s why Damsel and I always talk alone. He knew you didn’t know anything about that and held the secret over my head. Hell, half the club doesn’t know. It’s not the club’s business.”

  “The hell it isn’t!” Logan bellowed, slapping his palm against the table.

  This time, Tigger a
nd Devon swapped glances.

  Logan tried to remain cool while he collected his thoughts. What had he just stumbled upon? He knew about the gambling, but he’d never suspected the Heroes and Rogues of dabbling in the sex business.

  “Scratch it,” Devon grumbled.

  “You knew about this?” he asked, turning on Tigger and acting betrayed. Big troubles awaited the MC. The guys didn’t like secrets.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I just found out about the girls last week,” Tigger informed him.

  “And I’ve seen you every day for the last three hundred and sixty-five. You didn’t think to mention prostitution in casual conversation?”

  “Why would he?” Devon asked. “You’ve only been a member for five years. Half this club has twenty years or better on you.”

  “That’s no excuse, Devon. We make business decisions as a club.”

  “We used to,” Tigger complained. “Then, Devon took over. There’s a new law and order here now. Ain’t that right, Devon? You don’t answer to anyone. Do you?”

  Devon sniffed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and stood. “So when do I get to meet the lucky lady?” He retrieved his cell phone, searched his messages, and tossed the device to the table.

  Pissed, Logan went in for the kill. “I guess introductions won’t happen tomorrow. From what I hear, somebody played on the wrong field. That’s one reason for my alarm and sudden decision about Sassy. Damsel discussed losing a member of his flock. He knows you’ve been messing around with their sheep. You took their club’s number one gal to your bed. He’s pissed. He should be.”

  The color washed out of Devon’s face. “What else did he say?”

  “It’s not so much of what he said, but what he implied. Something has happened to your woman, Devon. I’d guarantee it.”

  “She isn’t mine,” he muttered, snatching his phone from the glossy surface and hurrying toward the door.

  “I hope not,” Logan called out behind him. “Because after the way Damsel acted, I’m afraid Addison may be dead.”

  At the sound of her name, Devon abruptly turned around and stalked him. “Don’t you ever say her name in front of me. Do you hear?”