LOGAN (BAD BOY BIKER ROMANCE)

by Jacobs, Kyle

  "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.
r />   "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.

  He made his way past dark offices, and rooms filled with various goods. All legitimate.

  He came to the door that led down to the sub basement and opened it. Again, no guard.

  Down the stairs and down another hall. At the end he could see a room with the light on, and the sound of voices as well as music. He quietly approached, and peered around the corner into the room.

  He saw two men milling about a small stock room, arranging stacks of small crates piled up against one wall. A small loading dock door was open to the night with a van backed up to it. The van still had its interior lights on, and music was playing loudly from its interior speakers.

  Logan felt his temper flare up again.

  He jumped into the room and screamed "Freeze! Police!"

  Both men jolted, almost dropping the crates they carried.

  "Ah, Christ on a unicycle!" Adam said, recovering his composure. The other man, Silas, was clutching his chest.

  "Jesus, Logan," Adam said. "What the hell? I coulda dropped this." Indicating the crate. Inside was the sound of clinking bottles.

  "Be glad you didn't," Logan said. "You couldn't afford the bill." He then glared at the both of them. They froze up, this time for good reason. "What the hell's going on upstairs?" he asked evenly.

  Adam glanced at Silas, then said, "Isn't Mark on the gate?"

  Logan nodded in frustration. "Yeah, but no one is on the God damned door. Gate's not the issue. The door is. Cops can roll onto any property they want, but to enter a building they need a warrant, or a pretence. Without a warrant the guard on the door blunts any crap reason the cops can come up with. But if no one is on the door, they could walk in and make up an excuse later."

  Adam did not interrupt. He obviously knew the reasoning behind their type of security. Especially right now. But he wasn't going to correct Logan on anything.

  When he noticed Logan waiting for an explanation Adam said, "We had a guard on the door. He should have been there."

  For some reason this made Logan even more angry. "Who is this dead man?"

  "Hey, we're outta toilet paper," came a new voice from behind him.

  Logan turned.

  Ryder was standing in the doorway, looking nonplussed. He had a magazine rolled up in one hand, and a walkie talkie hooked into his belt which he was doing up.

  Even from where he stood Logan could see that the walkie talkie was actually turned off.

  Logan fumed. Here he was, surrounded by crates of stolen, expensive bottles of high end alcohol, and the one person who could prevent snoopy cops from finding it all, had been taking a dump.

  Logan walked up to Ryder who appeared to at least recognize the trouble he was in. Fear was on his face.

  "You're suppose to be on the door." Logan seethed.

  "I... uh.... yeah," Ryder managed.

  Logan wanted to beat the crap out of him. He had more than enough right to do so, regardless of Ryder's connection to Milo. But Logan had already beat on two people that day and was feeling like progress was just not getting made with that approach.

  He decided to file this away for another time.

  "This is a black mark, idiot," Logan said. Ryder just stared, waiting to be hit.

  Logan made a visible effort to contain himself, then said, "Get back to the door, and don't leave it again."

  Ryder nodded, pulled away from Logan and practically fled down the hall to resume his post.

  "And turn on your damned radio!" Logan called after.

  He took a breath
and looked at the other two men, who were waiting for something to happen to them next.

  Logan waved dismissively at them. "Get back to work. We got a schedule."

  As he watched them load the last of the crates into the van Logan's mind wandered away from the important business at hand.