HOGTIED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Satan's Chaos MC)

by Nicole Fox

  They relaxed, went to go see movies, went for walks around the park, and just took their time visiting every nook and cranny of the city that was so tall and bright around them. Francesca even grew to like the ugly grey asphalt look of the city, and she began to be able to forget the acidic smell of garbage that permeated the whole place.

  Much to both of their delights, Zook was arrested after three weeks. He’d been caught trying to flee the police, but he was found after a short chase hiding in some old lady’s garage underneath her car. Once that was cleared up, Logan left her for a time, going to ensure that the MC was safe enough to bring Francesca around to.

  He came back looking tired and threadbare. Francesca ran her eyes over every inch of him, looking for injuries, but found none. He was just tired; the stress from the last few weeks had been weighing heavily on his shoulders, no matter what Francesca tried to relieve it.

  Glad for good news, Francesca decided to celebrate by pulling off all of Logan’s clothing with her teeth. No matter how many times she fucked this man, no matter how many times his huge, throbbing cock pumped into her, making her quiver with orgasms over and over again, she never tired of the feel of him thrusting inside of her like a jackhammer.

  Just thinking about him was enough to soak her underwear right through. It was enough to send lighting through her veins and to warm every corner of her heart, too.

  “What do you think I should wear?” Francesca asked, holding up a t-shirt and a sparkling tank top, trying to decide between them.

  Logan snorted at her. “No one will care, Francesca; just wear something casual and comfortable. It’s a motorcycle shop, so it’s not real clean.”

  “What are your people like?” she asked for the hundredth time, running mascara through her thick, black lashes. “Do you have any women in your club?”

  “Just try to keep them out.” Logan chuckled and pointed to one of the rolled up shirts in her luggage. “Wear this and your jeans and you’ll be fine. As for my people, well, they are as diverse as any group of people, Francesca. I’m not sure how to answer that one; some are jerks and some are friendly. They are all from poorer families, mostly, poorer parts of the city. Most of us get into this line of work because we don’t have any other choice. It’s that or the streets, that or abuse, that or selling drugs. So, I don’t really know how to answer your question.”

  Francesca took in all of that information, feeling a little sick to her stomach. “Were you kicked out onto the streets?”

  He nodded nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter to him anymore. “Yes. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father never forgave me. I have siblings and a father somewhere, but he kicked me out as soon as I was old enough to get a job. The MC took me in, gave me a chance.” Logan’s eyes became distant and dark for a moment before he turned back to her. “But none of that matters anymore.”

  Francesca’s heart fluttered in her chest at the look he gave her. And she couldn’t help but smile back.

  # # #

  Logan

  “And this is Blade,” Logan said, pointing to a short, stocky woman with beautiful, long golden hair, shaved close to her head near her ears.

  The woman was covered even more thoroughly with tattoos than he was, and she grinned like an idiot and shook Francesca’s hand. “Hear you got the boss out of jail and Zook into it.” Blade grinned, displaying a gap in between her teeth where someone had once punched them out. “We owe you for that, girly.” Blade’s voice was that of an eighty-year-old woman who had been smoking for sixty of those years, rough and filled with gravel. Her overly-tanned skin was as rough as leather and just as tough.

  “Blade was my third; Zook was my second. So I guess you are second-in-command now, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight. I’ve been mostly running this place anyway while you were out searching for clues. And ladies, apparently.” Blade laughed. “You’ll have to watch yourself; I might just be stealing all this away from you while you’re waiting for the cops to clear up your name.”

  “That might not be such a bad thing. Maybe I’ll look into retiring,” he said, keeping his voice low so just Blade and Francesca could hear. Much to his delight, Blade laughed like a damned hyena, and Francesca turned a beautiful shade of red.

  Logan then introduced Francesca to all of his men and women in the MC. He greeted all of the happy faces and took note of those who looked less than pleased at his return. Most were shocked at Zook’s betrayal, but some of the members looked a bit like they were sorry that he failed.

  “I’ll win them over,” he thought, but his heart really wasn’t in it anymore. He saw his world, not through the lenses he’d looked through his whole life, but how Francesca must see them. They looked like a ragtag bunch of losers who had banded together so they could mean something. Perhaps that had been admirable to him once, perhaps he felt like he fit in here for most of his life. But not anymore.

  They toured the rest of the converted warehouse in which most of the MC’s activities, both legal and not so legal, took place. “If I come back here, this will be the first thing I fix. We need to be a legitimate group for the world to take us seriously. It will be 100% clean if I ever become head again.” But he didn’t feel like he belonged at the helm of this anymore. Perhaps he was too old, or too tainted by Francesca’s world to be able to live happily in this one anymore.

  Sighing, Logan showed her around, trying to push those thoughts away and focus on Francesca.

  Francesca glanced up at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the warehouse. “So this is all yours?”

  “Ours,” he answered, immediately. “It no more belongs to me than Diamond Savoy belongs to your mother. I’m just a piece of the puzzle, not the whole thing.”

  “So how many people are part of Satan’s Chaos anyway?”

  Logan’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Maybe a hundred, if you count everyone. Not everyone lives here, though; some of the other guys have families, other places to live. Mostly the worst off of us come to live here, and we mostly never leave.”

  The cavernous ceilings were grey and metal, reflecting the sounds of the rain through the whole building. It sounded like a heavy storm of hurricane proportions from inside, but it was a drizzle; the walls echoed noise around. “This is where we house and fix the bikes. We take in a lot of work from other people outside of the MC, too; everyone around here trusts us to fix their bikes when they need it.” Logan pointed to the racks of bikes, standing up in the far corner. Next to them were racks and racks of tools and spare parts, taking up most of the space. The rest was filled with the bikes that the MC owned and used.

  Most of the bikes were free for anyone to use, but a few had names written on them. Logan was happy to see his second ride was still intact. His favorite bike was still back in Nevada at Francesca’s house. Good thing he had a spare.

  “The rest of the space over there are rooms for everyone who lives here and some other communal spaces. And our meeting rooms and some other things. And that’s about it.”

  Blade, who had been following the tour, grinned widely with her gaping teeth. “And of course, there’s the junkyard outside, but it’s not exciting enough to go splashing around in the rain to go see.”

  Francesca’s eyes were huge circles of emerald. “It’s really impressive. You know, other than that one time you drove me home, I’ve never been on a bike before. Can you teach me how to drive one?”

  Logan chuckled. “I’ll drive you around, but you don’t want to get caught trying to drive around here without a motorcycle license.”

  “The police don’t like us much here, so they check everyone driving a bike anywhere near the MC, hoping to bust new recruits.” Blade made a face. “Drives me crazy.”

  Nodding sagely, Francesca looked Blade up and down. “So, tell me the story behind the name ‘Blade,’” she said, grinning at Logan’s tattooed second.

  “Oh, girly, you have no idea what you have just
unleashed,” Blade cackled in response. “It all started about ten years ago, on this very spot —”

  And Francesca was riveted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Francesca

  “So, we’ve seen just about every tourist trap in town,” Francesca said, running her hands through her long, blonde hair. They were lounging around their hotel room, trying to decide what to do for the day. Logan was glancing through a booklet of some sort, looking for anything they hadn’t yet done. But after three weeks, almost everything that looked even a little fun had been done already. “Instead of looking for more touristy things, why don’t we just do whatever you would do if you have a night off here?”

  Logan blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “What would you have done if you just wanted to get out of the MC and you didn’t have any duties holding you back?” she repeated, saying the words slowly. Logan threw one of the ugly throw pillows from the couch at her, but she deftly ducked. “Or were you not allowed hobbies?”

  He frowned, looking a little lost. “Most of my hobbies revolved around fixing the bikes and keeping up with everyone at the MC, Francesca. We didn’t have a whole lot of spare time.”

  “So you did have some spare time,” Francesca said immediately, making Logan roll his eyes.

  “I guess we did have some spare time.”

  “What did you do with it?” she asked, scooting closer and staring up at him.

  Logan melted within seconds, his mouth curving up into a smile and betraying his amusement. “Alright, fine. We would go for rides up in the hills. The hills aren’t far from here, and they have some overlooks. Sometimes we’d bring snacks and just sit up at the overlooks and smoke and drink and bullshit.”

  Grinning, Francesca picked up her purse off of the couch and stood in one fluid, graceful motion. “Sounds good; we’ll stop at 7-11. They serve smokes and drinks, but we might have to look elsewhere for the bullshit.” She eyed him, a crooked grin on her perfect, beautiful lips.

  Logan laughed, a loud, barking sound that echoed around their hotel room. Francesca laughed right back at him, and then hurried out of the door. It would take a while to get up into the hills, and Francesca’s stomach filled with butterflies at the idea. This was going to be wonderful; she would not only have an excuse to cling to Logan’s perfect body all the way up the hills, but she would also get to feel the thrill of being on his bike with him again. And that thought was enough to want to spend some time out in the savage, savage wilderness.

  # # #

  Logan

  Francesca nearly screamed with delight as the two of them took off on the bike. Her innocent delight at riding Logan’s bike was one of the million reasons he loved her.

  “Love? What I love about Francesca?” The thought was still so new and raw that it felt a little like lemon juice poured over paper cuts, but the word popped up in his mind over and over again. He loved Francesca? Yes, he did. He loved her like he’d never loved anything before, or would ever love anything again. She was the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything else he found beautiful about this world.

  It was so true, he couldn’t have convinced himself otherwise no matter what.

  They picked up some supplies, stuffed them into the saddlebags on Logan’s spare motorcycle, and sped up the hills. The road quickly turned from city streets to suburbs, then those turned in quieter, one-laned things that were steep and narrow. The going was a little dangerous, and Francesca clung to Logan as though she would fall off at any moment. He nearly laughed at her clinginess. It was easy to forget that not everyone had spent their whole lives astride one of these monsters, learning every motion and sound. After years straddling this particular saddle, Logan knew exactly how this bike would react to every situation. He knew how it should feel underneath him, how much power to hold back, and how much he should lean to one side or the other to keep the bike in perfect balance. Francesca’s weight, as slight as she was, added a little bit of an unknown to the balance, but he adjusted for it like the bike was part of his own flesh.

  It was a fine day out; the rains had brought a little warmth back into the air. Everything was cool and washed in sunlight, the rain completely soaked into the thirsty ground. The overlooks were going to look amazing, especially with the fiery, autumn leaves just starting to set all of the trees ablaze. He just hoped Francesca liked them as much as he did.

  After about an hour of driving, they pulled into one of Logan’s favorite overlooks. It was hidden from the road in a way that made it nearly impossible to spot, even when you knew what you were looking for. The spot was a little overgrown and small, but it was also private and beautiful, and it was one of Logan’s favorite places to go when he and his people would occasionally escape the confines of the MC’s warehouse to see a little sky.

  As they pulled off of the road and onto the path that lead back into the overlook, Francesca gripped Logan's shoulders a little hard, her nails digging into his arms in a way that reminded him of the night before. It sent a thrill through his veins.

  Much to Logan's delight, the overlook was just as stunning as he'd remembered. As his powerful bike roared once last time before falling silent, the stunning overlook came into full view. The leaves this far up had already started turning, the oranges, reds, and greens all blending together like a forest fire. The overlook was nearly at the top of the hill, leaving them with a nearly three-hundred-and-sixty degree view.

  Francesca slid off of the bike, her eyes wide, her hand pressed to the valley between her perfect breasts. She seemed to be having trouble catching her breath, scanning the view with a kind of awe he had been hoping to inspire.

  Getting off of the beaten path a little, Logan pulled a few branches out from the woods, filling the park's little fire pit with bits and pieces. He laid out a blanket for Francesca, and she sat down on the bit of cloth and watched him work. He took out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting both his smoke and the wood in the fire pit. Francesca watched him with curious, green eyes, her arms locked around her knees as he worked.

  “Have you done this a lot?” Francesca asked, watching as the little cones of receipt paper caught flame, slowly setting fire to the wood. Lucky for him, most of the small stuff was already dry after the rains yesterday, probably from the warm sunlight pouring through the trees. Logan worked quickly, feeding the fire little bits of wood until it was big enough to take one of the bigger, slightly damp logs.

  “Yeah. Sometimes the crew and I would come up here when I was younger; we'd make something of a camping trip out of it. We didn't have any money, so we had to come up with our own amusements.” Logan grinned, his mind filling with memories of his many visits to this very spot. “We learned pretty early on that as long as we stayed quiet and didn't destroy anything, the police would leave us alone. It was always the loud groups that got into trouble. We would spend most of our weekends up here.”

  Francesca set her chin down on her knees, her eyes following him around the campsite as he performed the chores necessary to keep the fire going. The sun was heading toward the horizon already, taking much of the light with it. It made the fire seem all the brighter; it glittered off of the side of his motorcycle like a Christmas display. By the time the sun set completely, Logan had everything set up. A large blanket took up most of the room by the fire. A bottle of wine waited for them along with a collection of cheap snack foods that were Logan’s favorites. Holding out his hand to her, Logan helped Francesca to her feet, twirling her around before sitting her down closer to the fire.

  Chuckling, Francesca glanced around at the odd collection of things waiting for them on the blanket. “So, what’s first?”

  Logan twisted the cap off the wine, taking a sip right from the bottle. He passed it over and Francesca stared at him for a long moment. He was pretty sure she was going to pass, but then she tentatively took the bottle with both hands and held it up to her mouth.

  “Wow,” she laughed, taking another sip of the w
ine. “That is unbelievably sweet. What is it?”

  “Some cheap dessert wine, I think. It gets better the more you drink, I promise.”

  They dug through the snacks, Francesca laughing at the names and started obsessively checking the ingredients. “Does this actually contain any real food, or is it just chemicals pushed through a tube?”

  “I think it might have a little food in there somewhere. But how about you try it first before you mock it?” Logan chuckled, sticking a few Cheetos Puffs into his mouth. “Have you never had a Cheeto?”

  Francesca made a face. “I don’t think so. They always looked so orange, like they were made from nuclear waste.” Looking a little ill, she put the puffy, cheesy thing in her mouth, chewing suspiciously. “Hey, these don’t taste as bad as I thought they would!” She took another from the bag, nibbling on it as Logan chuckled.