“You’d better believe it,” he promised, acting as if he wanted to lean in and give her a kiss goodbye.
She threw the gearshift in reverse. “I’ll see you at eight then.”
Tigger walked alongside her car until she threw the gearshift into drive. “You remember what I said, Summer. I’m the real thing, baby. You need to know that before you invite me into your room, much less your bed.”
“Tigger?”
“Yeah.” He stopped walking and watched her as if he expected her to change her mind.
“Did I ever tell you my last name?”
“I know what it is,” he told her. “Pain.”
“In my world, pain is also synonymous with pleasure.” She laid her foot to the pedal and drove away.
* * * *
“I’m going to hire someone to knock her off,” Cara said, unaware Tigger was standing behind her. “I swear, Victory. I’ll find someone to do it. I’ll pay them whatever it takes and make sure that bitch knows, right before she draws her last breath of air, that I’m the one who called the hit. I’m the one who wanted her dead.”
Tigger slammed his fist against a metal tool box. “I’m not sure which is worse. You running your mouth about something you wouldn’t do even if you had the power to—which you don’t—or the fact you really believe Summer is responsible for our breakup.”
“Let me remind you where your dick was five minutes before she showed up, Tigger.”
“It wasn’t in between your legs. That’s for damned sure.”
“Fuck you, Tigger.” Cara stormed inside.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this.” Victory looped her arm around Devon’s waist and gave him a tight squeeze. “If you don’t make those two kiss and make up, things will never be the same around here.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tigger assured her, wondering if that were true. Cara had cared for him. He’d cared for her. How much either of them loved the other was the real question, and he couldn’t answer that one. There was only one thing of which he was certain. The Tigger-Cara gig was over.
“What’s this meeting about?” Tigger directed his question to Devon.
“Can’t talk about it until we hit the table,” Devon replied.
“Do we have some trouble with the Devil’s Angels?” Tigger asked, not one to attend a meeting completely in the dark.
“I’ll see you at four.” He pointed at Tigger before he gave Victory a saucy kiss. “And I’ll be looking for you afterward.”
She swatted Devon’s ass as he walked away. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“How the two of you have held it together is one of the greatest wonders of the new world.” Tigger shook his head. “Who would’ve thought?”
“I know, right?” Victory watched Devon until he disappeared inside the clubhouse. “And who would’ve thought you and Cara would call it quits over one little mistake?”
“Mistake?” Tigger couldn’t believe Victory was siding with Cara. “Going down on Jake wasn’t an error in judgment. I was in the damn building when it happened. You and Sassy were in the kitchen. You know how this all unfolded. I’m willing to bet you were there when she propositioned him.”
“She was hurt, Tigger,” Victory pointed out as if an injured ego justified Cara’s actions. “And I don’t blame her. I could see the sparks flying between you and Summer without looking at the damn monitors.”
“There wouldn’t have been a Summer if there hadn’t first been a Jake.”
“So you slept with her?”
“Are you collecting information for Cara?”
She shrugged. “Watch what you say if that’s what you think.”
“No, I didn’t sleep with her. I probably will, but no, I haven’t yet.”
“The ‘want to’ is just as naughty as the act itself.”
“That’s where you and I disagree,” Tigger said, chuckling. “The ‘want to’ isn’t nearly enough where Summer is concerned.”
“You’ve known her less than forty-eight hours.”
“Maybe the time factor is what makes this damn chemistry between us all the more exciting. I can’t explain what I’m feeling, because my reaction to her doesn’t make a damn lick of sense. But one of these days, I may thank Cara.”
“Thank her? Why?”
Tigger smiled. “Just mark my words. Sometime in the future, I’ll probably thank Jake and Cara for one hell of a favor.”
Chapter Six
Logan Marcs looked at his watch. What was keeping Mark? He searched the road leading to the cabin where they’d decided to meet. Where the hell was the guy?
Mark Sampson had said he’d be there at three-thirty, which would only give them a few minutes. Logan had explained the time crunch, and said he needed to be back to the clubhouse by four for the emergency meeting.
“Fuck it,” Logan grumbled, straddling his bike. He’d waited long enough. As he laid his foot to the kickstand, a black sedan raced up the long driveway and came to a screeching halt.
Sampson left the vehicle promptly and waved a hand in front of his face. “I know I’m late. Couldn’t be helped. I had a lot of information to gather in a short period of time. We’ve got a problem.”
“You’re telling me?” Logan grunted. “Ever since you arranged your little meeting with Gaylord Martin, I’ve been looking over my shoulder.”
“This isn’t about Gaylord.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been made.”
“What?” Logan screeched, his pulse racing. “Fuck. Are you sure?”
“Positive. Where’s Sassy?”
“She’s at the club,” Logan replied, frantic. He stuffed the key in the round ignition switch and balanced his bike.
“You can’t go back there, Logan,” Mark warned him, resting his hand on the handlebars. “The emergency meeting that was called? It’s about you. By the time you get to the clubhouse, the vote will have taken place, the gavel will have fallen, and you will be marked. You have to trust us to get her out.”
Logan balked at that. “I trust no one where Sassy is concerned.”
“You can’t go back inside. They’ll kill you.”
“How could you let this happen?” Logan demanded, leaving the bike again. He grabbed Mark by the collar and shook him. “Answer me!”
“Gaylord,” he deadpanned. “You were right about him. He’s gone rogue.”
“And when he took Damsel’s seat, you didn’t put two and two together?”
Mark appeared satisfied, calm even, as Logan’s fury took hold and he shook him again. Something about Mark’s demeanor didn’t sit well with Logan.
“You suspected Gaylord was dirty and did nothing. It was easier to go along with the idea that I had become your switch-hitter.”
“Gaylord Martin has been in place for nearly twenty years,” Mark reminded him.
“I just can’t believe this,” Logan muttered. He’d assumed he would eventually be made, but not like this. Not now. And, dear God, not without some advance notice! “I’ve gotta go. I have to straighten this out.”
“They’ll kill you,” Mark declared when Logan loosened his hold and finally released him. “You know what they do to our guys. You’ve seen the pictures. You were warned before you went inside. And we told you at the time. Don’t make any commitments. Stay away from the broads. Be ready to leave on a moment’s notice. You’ve got your moment’s notice. You have to trust us to get your old lady out. You should’ve listened. We told you to leave the MC gals alone.”
“Sassy wasn’t one of their broads,” Logan reminded him.
“She’s inside now, and you’re out. We’ll try to help her and keep her safe, Logan, but you can’t go in. If you do, you’ll blow this operation to shit.”
Logan mounted his motorcycle again. Seconds later, the bike roared to its start. “You managed to screw up everything on your own, Sampson. I told you when I saw you and Gaylord together, this would end badly. Maybe you should’ve listened.”
“You’
re the one who got on a fellow agent’s bad side when you delivered that blank disc from Devon to Gaylord.”
“You’re telling me he’s still holding a grudge after all this time?” Logan grunted. “I want you to know, working with you and Gaylord has been the highlight of my career. It’s been an unexpected pleasure rubbing shoulders with such professionals.”
“Save the sarcasm for the club, Marcs. You betrayed Gaylord.”
“That’s classic right there,” Logan said, clutching his handlebars. “I didn’t betray anyone, especially Gaylord.”
“It’s in the past. I see no reason to discuss it now unless you have a confession to make. Did you deliberately sit on crucial evidence? What was on the original disc?”
Logan bit back the raging need to blast Sampson for wasting his time. He’d become a regular pro at dodging bad reports about Gaylord, and now he was suddenly interested in dated information? “You wanna know? I’ll tell ya. Your very married agent became obsessed with his club president’s old lady. After Damsel Road was sentenced, Gaylord was banging Victory. When she left him, Gaylord developed a personal vendetta against Devon. I was supposed to deliver proof to Gaylord, a sex tape, so he would stop pursuing her. When I met up with you guys that night, I handed over a blank disc. Devon had changed his mind at the last minute.”
“You expect me to believe you didn’t know you were delivering a dummy disc? You must be losing your touch, Marcs. I thought nothing slipped by you.”
“For future reference, you should remember that.”
* * * *
Logan opened up the throttle and soon raced down Highway 93. He cursed himself for wasting precious seconds by talking to Sampson about an insignificant piece of evidence.
He had to reach Sassy before the club voted. He had to explain himself to Devon and the others.
Damn it! This couldn’t be happening.
The red light at the main intersection caught him, and he pulled out his cell phone. Using the signal they’d agreed upon if they suspected Logan had been made, Logan typed out their code phrase: Wanna go shopping?
He stuffed the phone in his shirt pocket, hoping he’d soon feel the vibration of a returned text. By the time he left his bike parked in front of the clubhouse, the message arrived. He read Sassy’s message aloud, “I’m not ready yet” with an added smiley face to boot.
“What the hell?” He stomped inside the clubhouse. What did she mean she wasn’t ready yet?
Entering the back door, Logan took long strides as he walked to the meeting room. Full patch members and prospects had been invited to this closed-door affair, and everyone had been instructed to be on time. Logan was twenty minutes late.
Placing both hands on the brass lever-style handles, he took a deep breath and opened the double doors, strolling inside without any hesitation to his steps. He took a seat at the table, one chair to the left of Tigger, the club’s VP.
“Where the hell have you been?” Tigger asked, shooting Devon a sideways glance.
“It couldn’t be helped.”
Devon leaned back in his chair. “Why were you late, Marcs? Considering why we’re meeting today, I can’t wait to hear this.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Logan repeated himself, seething. What the hell had Gaylord brought down on the MC? What had Sampson caused when he put the two of them together for that unnecessary pow-wow a few months back?
“You walk in here twenty minutes late and act as if you don’t owe us an explanation?” Devon glowered. “You’d better start talking, Marcs, and I mean you’d better start spilling your truths now. It’s rare when the club’s treasurer is late to a meeting, especially when the vote hitting the table concerns said MC Treasurer!”
“I had some business to take care of!” Logan screamed, slamming his fist against the recently polished tabletop.
“Here now!” Tigger yelled, his hard glare darting between Devon and Logan. “What the hell is this about?”
“Go on,” Logan said, harsh in tone. “Tell him. Tell them all how you were going to announce—on Gaylord’s word, no doubt—I was an undercover cop. Tell the whole damn club how you took Gaylord’s word before asking me about the accusation. Instead, you went on the statement of a damned one-percenter, a man who betrayed his own club, his wife, and his family just to take the gavel from Damsel Road and use the power that comes with it to deceive us all!” Logan stripped his jacket from his back and slapped his leather against the table. “Go on, Devon. You bring that fucking vote to the table.”
“What the hell?” Jake, along with many of the other full-patch members, looked dumbfounded. “You’re a cop?”
“About as much as Tigger is or you are,” Logan replied, stalking to the end of the conference table. He jabbed an accusing finger in Devon’s direction. “You’re way off base, man. And by the time you realize why Gaylord made this allegation in the first place, there won’t be a club left to save.”
He opened the door between the meeting room and bar area, realizing all eyes were on his back. The club’s women, generally in the dark when a vote hit the table, were now fully aware of what was taking place behind closed doors. “And that gavel you cherish? You’ll be lucky if you ever see it again, let alone clutch it in your hand.”
Logan traipsed across the room. He greeted Sassy with a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her to her feet, dragging her away from the girl talk. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” She acted as if she’d never been warned, never been advised of the possible outcome. In fact, Sassy had been well aware of the potential for exposure. She’d known what could happen with the investigation, and she’d understood the danger of being affiliated with an undercover agent infiltrating the MC.
“Yes, now.”
“But I’m not ready to go, Logan. We have friends here.”
A stabbing sensation pierced his heart, but he pushed aside his need to reassure her. They needed to go. Their time had come. While Logan understood Sassy’s desire to stay, he also realized time was of the essence.
He clutched her arm, and had every intention of walking away and leaving the club behind them, except he hadn’t counted on Victory. And God love her heart, she came through just in the nick of time.
Chapter Seven
“Gaylord based his accusation on what Damsel told him,” Victory said, standing in the doorway of the conference room. “It’s all lies. Every last word that falls from Gaylord’s mouth, or Damsel’s for that matter, is a lie.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Victory,” Devon said, rising to his feet. “We need to vote this.”
“You don’t have to do squat.” Victory waved her arm behind her back in an effort to detain Sassy and Logan. “Don’t go anywhere. I can prove it.”
Tigger leaned back in his chair. This should be interesting. Since when had the club allowed the old ladies in the conference room? Hell, at this rate, Devon might as well invite all the women inside and tell them to pull up chairs and cast their votes, too.
“This damn charter has become a garden club. Before long, we’ll be wearing tea hats and white gloves.”
Tigger snarled. “Shut up, Jake.”
“Devon, just hear me out.”
Devon shook his head. “Victory, this doesn’t concern you. We have proof.”
Tigger studied Logan; he’d always been able to read people. Logan looked pissed, but he didn’t look worried in the least. He did, however, give off the impression that he wouldn’t let this die. He probably planned to kill the messenger…Gaylord Martin.
“Proof? From Gaylord?” Victory snorted. “Are you kidding me?”
“Really,” Tigger muttered. “I’d put my money on Gaylord as an undercover before I’d bet on Logan. Look at what he’s done for the club since he’s been here.”
“I didn’t ask you, VP,” Devon said out of the corner of his mouth.
“And I won’t cast a yay-vote for something Gaylord put in your blasted head. This is insane. What do you have?
”
“I have a meeting with a Fed, an undercover handler by the name of Mark Sampson.”
“Do you have pictures?” Tigger asked. “Tapes?”
“Any kind of proof, Devon?” Victory chimed in. “Anything to show the club you’re doing the right thing by turning our friends out and casting a vote that doesn’t just determine their fates with the club but also determines whether they live or die?”
“You’re out of line!” Devon shouted.
“No, Devon. You are.” Victory cautiously approached him. Once she stood next to him, she placed both hands around his forearm. “Devon, think about this. What are you doing here? Gaylord hasn’t forgiven you. There isn’t a truce between the Heroes and Rogues and Devil’s Angels.
“Gaylord has never stopped running drugs. His guys are still making meth. Most of the Angels use, too. Gaylord has set up a perfectly veiled perception of how they want to appear, and you’ve fallen for it. Again.”
She shook her head. “This is a disgrace. He’s turned you against a brother. You should be ashamed.”
“Out!” Devon screamed, pointing at the door.
“I’ll go,” Victory said, releasing her grip. “But if I walk out this door, you need to know, I’m not coming back.”
Tigger stroked his chin. He admired Victory for her effort, but realized there would be significant consequences.
Full members and prospects bowed their heads, pretending not to have a strong opinion about the stand-off between lovers. The manner in which Victory had called out their club president made him appear weak in front of his club.
“You’re out of line, and you don’t know your place.” Devon grabbed the gavel. “We vote this. Now!”
“What are we voting exactly?” someone asked.
Devon snarled. “The word on the street leads me to believe Logan Marcs is an undercover agent, working for the Feds to bring down the local chapters of the MC. All in favor of stripping his patch and dealing with him accordingly, say aye.”
Summer Pain Page 4