Logan’s eyebrows jumped up. “I’m trying to help her, just like you are.”
I blew out a lungful of hot air and turned away, scanning the floor for my jeans. “Sorry. No, actually—” I turned back around to face him. “You don’t even know her, Logan. Why are you so concerned about her?”
Logan finally sat up. His hands hung between his knees. He dropped his chin and looked up at me through the fringe of his hair. “I’m not sure if I can tell you just yet.”
I threw up my hands. “Fine. Whatever.” I sensed him hitching himself off of the bed as I finished getting dressed.
“What did I do? Why are you getting so worked up?”
“What did you do?” I echoed. “Like you don’t know? The old ladies told me that you were courting me, Logan.”
A smile twitched through the frown on Logan’s face. I shook my head and held up my hand.
“No, listen. What kind of guy creeps on his friend’s kid sister while he’s trying to court another woman? You hunted her down at the barbeque, clearly making her uncomfortable, you spied on her at her place of employment, you asked her questions about her body...” I trailed off, feeling my face growing hotter with each word. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Logan put his hands on my shoulders. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? You think I’m interested in Lisbeth?”
Well, aren’t you? I wanted to say. But I was starting to feel ridiculous. “Tell me what you were doing outside of the Sudsy Lady, then.”
Logan blew out his cheeks and turned away, scratching his head. I could just barely hear him muttering to himself.
“Oh, boy. Fuck.”
“Logan—”
“Fine.” Logan whirled around. There was a hint of pink color flushing up the strained muscles of his neck. He seemed angry, but I couldn’t understand why. Was he mad at me, of all people?
“Are you going to tell me?”
“I’ll tell you. Later. But you have to do something for me first.”
I frowned. This wasn’t what I expected to hear, at all. At the same time, I was definitely intrigued. “What do you want me to do?”
There was a light in Logan’s eyes unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was a thirsty and desperate look. “Ask Lisbeth about the tattoo of the compass rose on her arm. Make sure she’s honest about it. Bring the info back to me, and I’ll tell you everything. I swear.”
Chapter 6
I slammed my car door, feeling more determined than the last time I’d parked in the same spot at the Laundromat. There was fuel in my blood, urging me to carry out my mission. It was strange how much more energy I had compared to earlier. I knew exactly what —or who— was causing it; I just didn’t want to think about it.
Lisbeth was at the counter. Her face lit up when she saw me walk in. Good. At least she was in a better mood, now. That was going to make things easier for me.
“How’s business?” I asked, resigning to act like our last conversation had never happened.
“It’s poppin’. I barely have time to sit down,” Lisbeth said. She gestured to the empty room.
I indulged myself in a small laugh as I began unloading my damp clothes. Lisbeth walked over to help me pass them into the dryer across the aisle.
“You got a new tattoo,” I said lightly.
“Oh. This one? Um, yeah, I guess this one’s pretty new.”
“Does it mean something?”
Lisbeth turned her face away from me as she started the dryer. The machine whirred to life, drowning out her mumbled words.
“What was that?” I half-yelled.
“It’s just something I got with some friends.”
I eyed her carefully. The sweat beading on her forehead seemed suspect. She yanked at her shirtsleeve, as if she could drag it all the way down her arm to hide her tattoo. Her eyes kept flashing back to the door. They were wide, dark pools of fear. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the favor Logan asked of me. All I knew was that something was scaring Lisbeth, and it was related to that tattoo.
“Lizzie,” I said, taking her hand. “Remember when your sisters had to get jobs after your mom left you guys? Remember how I always took care of you so you wouldn’t be alone?”
Lisbeth stared at her tattered sneakers. She nodded.
I squeezed her fingers. “You were like a sister to me, too. I’ll always take care of you, even now. You’re not alone, okay?”
I watched as she bit her lip. Her eyes were still cast downward, her black eyelashes contrasted starkly against her pale cheeks, but I thought I could see the glint of a tear.
“I get the feeling there’s a little more to that tattoo than what you’re letting on.”
Suddenly, Lisbeth jerked her hand out of my grasp. She took a step backward, regarding me with her shimmering eyes. “Carmen. You can’t tell anyone. Promise.”
I felt my mouth turn downward. Technically, I’d made a promise to Logan first. But Lisbeth was right in front of me, right now, and she needed somebody to talk to. Hell would’ve frozen over before she could ever be convinced to tell Liam. Somebody had to know, though. I could tell. Whatever had Lisbeth that scared was too big of a secret for a young girl to handle on her own.
It was a promise I couldn’t keep, but at that moment, I had to do what was best for her.
“Okay,” I said, nodding quickly. “I promise.”
* * *
Logan was still in my bed when I got home.
“Put a shirt on,” I said. I spotted the black lump of his shirt on the ground and kicked it into my hand.
After I tossed it to him, Logan pulled it on over his head without hesitation. He raised his eyebrows, speaking in a carefully measured tone. “So? How’d it go?”
I sank onto the bed next to him. My purse landed with a heavy thud between my feet. I’d been shaking on my entire drive over, the sound of Lisbeth’s voice lingering hauntingly in my ears.
“I don’t know if I should tell you,” I said.
The sheets rustled as Logan scrambled to my side. His warm, dry hand pressed into my arm. “Tell me.”
“She made me promise not to tell anyone,” I said, hearing the fear in my own voice, “and honestly, I’m not sure if you can help her, anyway.”
“Don’t you want to know what I was doing outside of her work?”
I shook my head. “Not worth it anymore.”
“Carmen.” The playful edge of his tone was gone. He turned my face toward his. “What if I told you I could help?”
“I highly doubt that.”
Logan blinked a few times. “Okay, fine. How about we take baby steps? Tell me why you think I won’t be able to help Lisbeth. You wouldn’t be spilling the beans if you did that, right?”
“Well...no, I guess not.”
Logan leaned back, gazing at me patiently.
I didn’t know where to begin. “There’s a bad guy.”
“Okay? And?”
“He’s really bad. Really powerful. Lisbeth got mixed up with him somehow, and she doesn’t want anybody, her brother, the MC, anybody else to get mixed up with him, too.”
“He’s that scary, huh?” Logan said.
I resisted the urge to punch him. “I’m serious! It’s safer if nobody knows.”
“And who decided that? Lisbeth? The girl who’s famous for making the best decisions in town?”
I shoved him off of the bed.
“Shit!” he yelped as he hit the floor.
I stood up, towering over him. If I wanted to, I could’ve kicked him in the spine. “Yes, Lisbeth is the one who decided that, and I agree with her. Sorry, but there’s some things outside of Canyon City and your little biker world that you wouldn’t be able to understand.”
Logan pushed himself up and clambered onto his feet. “Like the gang, right? Because this bad guy, he’s probably the head honcho of some gang?”
I pressed my lips together. He could interpret my silence however he wanted.
“And the tatt
oo. The compass is probably the gang’s symbol. The rose is for whatever Lisbeth’s role was in the gang.”
I felt my eyes grow wide.
“Let’s say the rose is a symbol for prostitution. Hypothetically, her pimp must’ve been a member of this compass gang.”
“How did you—”
“So is that why I can’t help her, Carmen? Because I’m just a simple biker living the small town life, and she’s running away from a big bad gang?”
I wanted to say yes. “Logan.” I shook my head. “I just want everybody to be safe. So does Lisbeth.”
Logan raised his chin. “So, if I can’t help her, if her brother or the MC can’t help her, then who can?”
I threw my head back, exasperated. “I don’t know! The FBI, maybe? Oh, but wait. Do you have the Federal Bureau of Investigation on speed dial?” I said sarcastically.
Logan’s expression didn’t waver. “Carmen,” he said, creeping forward. He took my hands and brought them up to his chest. “I do, actually.”
“What?”
“This isn’t the real me. I’m not just some small town biker. I was born in Brooklyn and I played football in high school.”
“So?” My lips pursed. “What does that have anything to do with Lisbeth?”
There were flames of excitement burning in Logan’s eyes, but he spoke in a low hiss, as if he feared us being overheard. “I’m an undercover field agent, Carmen. I was recruited about five years ago.”
The words froze in my ears. It was like listening to a foreign language. “What?” I whispered.
Logan began speaking faster, recounting his awkward first months trying to learn how to ride a motorcycle, schlepping around as the Skull Kings’ newest prospect, and various run-ins with the rival Scorpions, but his words merely buzzed around my mind. His story was like a web, one thread crossing over another and impossible to follow. The only thing that really stuck was the very first thing he’d said:
This isn’t the real me.
My hands fell away from his chest, and I backed away.
“Carmen?” Logan stepped forward, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
There was a chill inside of my ribs. I felt hollow, empty. I continued backing away from him, ignoring the sting of hurt that radiated from the pit of my stomach. I swallowed it down, forced it back, and imagined that I wasn’t human, that my face was an emotionless rock.
“I have to go pick up my son,” I said. I bent to retrieve my purse. “You should probably go.”
Chapter 7
I spent the better part of twenty-four hours trying to decide whether or not Logan was telling the truth. By the time I got to work the next day, I still didn’t know. Luckily, it was a Friday, which usually promised decent dinner crowds. Hopefully, I’d be too busy with all my tables to even think about him.
At least, that had been my train of thought until I walked in to find the devil himself sitting at the lunch counter.
“Finally!” Logan exclaimed, jumping off of the vinyl stool.
A sour-faced Terrence stepped out from behind the counter. “I’m covering your shift tonight, so don’t you worry about a thing,” he said stiffly, sounding rehearsed.
I glared at Logan. “I’ve got bills, so I better stay.”
Logan rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Gee, she has bills to pay. What do you have to say about that?”
I could only see the back of Logan’s head, but whatever he was doing made Terrence go pale.
“Let’s call it a paid vacation. I’ll still pay you for the hours you aren’t working tonight.”
Logan turned around to look at me. With a start, I realized he was waiting for my approval.
A smile crept over my lips. “At barely four bucks an hour, Terrence? That hardly seems worth it.”
“Take my tips, then!” Terrence squeaked. “I’ll give my share of tonight’s tips. All of ‘em.”
Once again, Logan glanced sidelong at me for my approval. I nodded.
“What a great boss!” Logan exclaimed, clapping Terrence on the arm. “Now, I better see some top-notch, Carmen-level customer service tonight, and if she suspects you stiffed her as much as one dollar—”
“On my honor as a business owner, you can trust me,” Terrence said, shakily lifting two fingers in some sort of bizarre salute.
I almost laughed. Honor and Terrence didn’t go together, but there was one thing he was afraid of, and that was the Skull Kings. As annoyed as I was at Logan, at least he’d gotten me out of work for the night.
“You’re a good man, Terrence,” Logan said, waving as he walked toward the door. He hooked me with his arm and steered me to the exit. “Come with me,” he whispered.
I was surprised when he led me to his Harley and offered me a spare helmet. “What are you doing?”
Logan’s face was impassively serious, all of his previous good humor gone. “Put this on. Trust me.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “I’ll get you home in time to feed Xander a nice, homemade dinner.”
He didn’t wait for a response and bopped the helmet onto my head. I stared as he fastened the strap under my chin.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I sputtered.
Logan’s fingers slowed. His eyes remained fixed just below my face. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“That’s not fair,” I said with a scoff. “You’re the one who lied about who you really are. You’re supposed to call first.”
“I didn’t know there was a specific protocol to follow.”
“There isn’t. It’s just plain good manners. It would’ve also helped to know that I was going to go for a surprise ride when I showed up for work today.”
Logan grinned in spite of himself. “You’re free to go if you really want.”
I crossed my arms, eyeing the seat of the Harley. “Well...where were you planning on taking me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Come with me and find out.”
My left foot inched forward. Should I? My mind was cautious, but something in my gut urged me to swing my leg over that seat and wrap my arms around Logan’s middle. I dared myself to do it, knowing that I wouldn’t have the nerve if I waited just one second longer.
“Xander eats his dinner at seven,” I said as I settled myself behind him.
The motorcycle growled to life, vibrating powerfully between my legs. Logan turned his head to the side, and I caught sight of the outer corner of his mouth as it turned up into a grin.
“That gives us plenty of time.”
For what? I couldn’t help but wonder.
Suddenly, we lurched our way out of his parking spot. I gave a surprised shriek and tightened my hold on Logan’s torso. His belly undulated as he laughed, the sound of it impossible to hear behind the pistoning engine.
The wind stung my face as it whipped past, but I felt exhilarated. Sarah’s car was just turning into the parking lot, showing up ten minutes late as always. I lifted a hand to her surprised face behind the windshield as we made our final exit.
* * *
I watched the town scroll past at dizzying speed. First, we were on Main Street, the signs of the businesses reduced to colored blurs. I caught a glimpse of the Sudsy Lady and wondered if Lisbeth was inside. Two seconds later, we were on the other side of the railroad tracks, crossing into the old industrial part of town. Then, that too fell behind us, and Canyon City slowly gave way to the wild desert landscape.
A week ago, I would’ve wondered if Logan was actually a serial killer planning on indulging his murderous urges out in the middle of nowhere. Hell, I still wondered that, albeit a little facetiously. I couldn’t help but identify all the perfect ways he could dispose of my body out in the desert amongst the dead bushes and starving coyotes in the shadows of the canyon.
But something told me I could trust him. Maybe it was the way he fastened the helmet under my chin himself, or his tight grip and gentle steering as we sped through town. I wanted to believe that it was all for my safety, that he cared that m
uch about me, even though he’d lied about most of the stuff I’d grown to know about him.
I needed to believe him. I didn’t know how I could live with myself otherwise.
After a few minutes of endlessly flat terrain, I spotted a small structure on the horizon. We approached it quickly. At first glance, it looked like one of the many abandoned ranch houses that populated the area, leftovers from the Spanish cattle-driving days. But there was shiny, new glass in the windows, a good roof that had to be less than a decade old, and fresh motorcycle tracks in the gravel driveway.
Something inside of me told me that this house in the middle of nowhere, barely within the boundaries of the county let alone the town, was where Logan lived, and his claims of being an undercover agent seemed more plausible.
I was the first one to get off the bike once it stopped. “What is this place?” I asked.
Logan slid off, planting his boots into the ground next to me. “My secret hide-out,” he said plainly, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I usually sleep at the clubhouse now, but back in my prospect days...” He gestured to the small house. “This was my home.”
I shook my head, trying to imagine a younger, friendless Logan sitting alone in this place, twiddling his thumbs until he was given permission to show up at the next Skull Kings hangout.
“Honestly, this whole FBI thing is really hard to believe,” I said.
“Then, I’ll help you believe it. Come inside.”
Paint flaked off of the ancient door as it creaked open. Logan flipped a switch, and the entire house buzzed with the efforts of a hidden generator. Then, a single yellow light bulb popped to life over our heads, and I took in the whole living room with one glance.
A futon was pushed into a corner, currently converted into a makeshift bed. There was a scrubbed wooden table with a radio, a rag rug in the middle of the floor, and piles of clothes. The bathroom was through a door on my right.
“Take a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. There was no kitchen or refrigerator. “No thanks,” I said as I lowered myself onto the futon.
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