Spark (Ruin Outlaws MC, #2)

by Amy Isan

  Logan is standing at the foot of my bed. He stares at me, his eyes going from mine to my raised fist and back to my eyes. His face changes from one of surprise to a slight smirk. I'm frozen stiff, somehow stuck holding my ridiculous pose for him. He raises his hands as if he's surrendering.

  "Logan?" I finally say, lowering my hand and sighing heavily. "Jesus Christ! You scared the shit outta me."

  He drops his hands to his sides and shakes his head. "What were you going to do? Claw me to death?"

  I don't like his casual tone. I still want to be mad at him about the bar, but how can I be? I'm so grateful that he's here... "I thought you were this old fucker who's been showing up at my work."

  His eyebrows raise and he rushes up to me. "Who? What fucker?" His breath is on my skin and I can feel heat radiating off of him. He's so close my toes are nearly touching the ends of his boots. My heart kickstarts again and I feel my breathing grow shallow. I can't even remember what I was thinking about, let alone what he was asking. I look up at him and meet his eyes, and I can feel the same emotion wash through him like a powerful river.

  His hands sweep under me and he kisses me forcefully. I push back against his lips and open my mouth slightly, and his tongue dives inside for a taste. His hands explore me, cradling my breasts and squeezing my ass. It's like heaven, being held in his arms. Protected and lusted after. I cradle his face and his stubble scratches my palms. His lips release mine and he dives past my cheek and breaths down my neck, feverishly kissing my collar and shoulder. Without thinking, my fingers sweep through his hair and I grip him, guiding him to where I want every kiss planted.

  Why is he here? I can't connect the dots. Did he know about the biker? He seemed like he did. I can't think though, his lips are teasing my nipples through my bra and shirt. The next instant he's slackened my jeans and pulled them down. His cock throbs through his open fly and I want to taste it. I want to feel it against my skin. He picks me up by my hips and I instinctively wrap my legs around his back, locking my ankles together. His shirt is moist from his leather vest pressing against it, and his masculine scent is intoxicating.

  My biker grinds his cock against my panties and my throat tightens. He breathes loud and cups my breast with one hand and keeps the other planted against the small of my back. He takes a few steps forward and pushes my shoulders against the wall. I don't even think to challenge him. I just want him, more than ever.

  He pushes my panties aside, not even bothering to take them off. He lowers me onto his cock and locks our hips together. His hands hold my ass up, while I explore his lips with mine. I keep myself balanced with a free hand on his shoulder, and our breathing grows heavy and shallow until it's in sync. I only take my eyes off his in the instances where I want to drink in his body, every hard edge and strong tattoo-covered muscle moving against me. His hips are digging into me. His body's grinding against my clit. It's overwhelming. The electricity flowing between us makes my heart skip a beat, the room feels like it's going dark, and my vision blurs. He grunts and sweat beads on his forehead and arms, and it drips down onto my body, forming long channels of pleasure between us. Like a waterfall dumping into a lake, I take it all.

  Logan groans and I lose myself in his animalistic aggression. He pushes me against the wall and uses the friction of the paint to hold me up against him, and he pounds me until I feel like I'm going to go blind. I moan and clasp my fingers around his neck, and our eyes meet. His eyes are primal and filled with fire. I lose myself in them as we climax together.

  He lowers me down to the floor and I take a few steps before collapsing on the bed. He disappears into the bathroom and I hear the sink turn on and off, but it's all a blur. The afterglow is powerful and intoxicating. I forgot what happened. Why I was home... the vertigo passes.

  Logan returns to my room and zips his pants back up. I'm not looking at him, but I can feel him. He sits on the bed and strokes my back, my skin sweaty with sex. "Cassie..." he whispers. Almost sweetly. "A bombshell."

  "Isn't that what you are?" I ask, turning to my side to face him. His hand drops down across my belly and he looks away. "A bomb?"

  He grunts and looks out the window. I hoist myself up on my elbow. "What are you doing here?"

  His eyes are dark, but he chuckles a little. "Now you're asking?"

  I don't falter. "Did you sic a biker on me to keep track of what I was doing?"

  He seems taken aback as he remembers what I said earlier. "No. Who has been following you?"

  "I didn't think so... he's old. I don't know how old. But too old to be in your gang I think."

  "Old..." he repeats the word as if he's thinking. "And we call ourselves a crew," he says. I blink. "We call ourselves a crew, not a gang."

  "Uh huh." I sigh.

  He stands up and moves toward the window. I only realize now he's watching something. I hear a door open and close outside in the parking lot. "That's why I'm here. Someone threatened that they knew who you were."

  I think I should be scared, but I'm only intrigued. He says it like I'm someone important. "Do I have magical powers and I don't know it?"

  He isn't amused. "Another 'gang' said they knew I was protect— hiding you from my men. That we were connected. I can't have them figuring out more than that, because they can use it against me.

  "Hiding?" This is news to me. I roll over onto my stomach again and watch the side of his face. He still won't look at me.

  "It isn't anything to worry about. Not anymore," he says. He turns and walks past my bed. He doesn't meet my gaze. I sit up quickly and shake my head.

  "Wait!" He stops at my bedroom door. "What the fuck is with the strong and silent shit? You show up here and have sex with me, then you're just going to leave?"

  He turns to look at me for the first time since he started growing distant and his eyes look pained. Red lines his eyelids. I can't tell if it looks like he was crying or if he's just pissed. It looks the same. He doesn't look weak, but strained. "I can't have you getting hurt. You need to get out of town."

  "How am I going to do that?" I stand up and run up to him, pushing him back into the hallway. "Just get up and leave? You got me into this mess, can't you get me out?"

  He shakes his head and looks a bit bewildered. Then he summons his energy and bites back, "You got yourself into this. I didn't ask for this shit."

  "You're the one 'hiding' me, whatever that means. So now I need to worry about two gangs chasing me all over town?"

  "That's why I need you to leave."

  "With what? How?" He points back into my room.

  "Look under your bed."

  "I know there's money under the mattress, it isn't enough to leave town. Especially since I can't leave Sara screwed over like this."

  "Just look," he repeats. He drops his hand and walks through the apartment, reaching the front door. I can't chase him, I'm practically naked from the waist down. I shout after him and run back into my room, grabbing my jeans and pulling them back on. I hear his motorcycle start up outside, and I curse loudly.

  I race across the apartment and down the stairs, nearly stumbling twice down the concrete steps. As I reach the bottom landing, I watch his motorcycle blaze off from the parking lot, the roar of the engine bouncing off the buildings and windows. I kick the building, probably annoying some neighbor. My foot throbs in response.

  Back upstairs, I close the front door and lock it before heading into my room. I pull up the mattress and find the same sad wad of cash spread out in a thin layer across the box-spring. What the hell was he talking about? 2000 dollars isn't nearly enough to ditch town with.

  I step back and hit the wall next to my bedroom door. I slide down and sit on the carpet, feeling defeated, used, and pushed away. What did he want? Just a quickie? I don't understand.

  Sitting on the carpet, I can see under my bed, or I should be able to. A black duffel bag peeks out from under my bed. I don't recognize it. I fall forward to my hands and knees and retrieve it, pulling i
t out against the carpet with a scrape.

  I unzip it and find it full of money. My eyes widen and I feel sick. What the hell is this? I spill it out and count it, the stacks neatly labeled with each total amount. Fifty thousand dollars. Did he leave this? Is this what he meant?

  What the fuck is he getting me into? How does this help? Won't this make everything worse? I hear the front door unlock and I quickly throw the money back into the bag and zip it closed. I push it back under the bed and fume. If this is his idea of setting me free, it's a pretty shitty one. Now I have someone's money too?

  I stand up to try and greet Sara like nothing happened. Like I didn't quit my job. Like Logan didn't show up and leave me a bunch of money. Like the sex didn't mean anything.

  It was hot and heavy, only the way two separated lovers can have it. Ugh. God dammit, Logan.

  . . .

  I can't sleep. The money seems to weigh on my mind, despite it being nestled securely underneath me. Sleeping on top of over fifty grand isn't easy, despite what rich people might want you to think. I can't imagine where it came from. Did he steal it from someone? Is it blood money harvested from those diamond mines? Is it being tracked by a bounty hunter that'll kick in my door anytime, with a live film crew?

  I hear a motorcycle roar outside along the road. My ears perk up and I throw my sheets off my sticky body. I want it to be Logan. I need it to be him. I go to my window and push it open, leaning close against the screen and trying to discern the sound. The air is humid and the plastic screen smells stale. Regrettably, I'm not a dog and I can't recognize my master by the sound of his car coming home.

  Awake now, I pull the duffel bag out again. I throw it onto the bed and unzip it, counting the cash once more. Maybe it isn't real money, like it's board game money and he's playing a prank on me. The old biker is part of the prank. Hell, even Becky is in on it. It's all a joke for my birthday.

  My birthday. That's tomorrow. I've never forgotten my birthday before. I've also never been involved with a bunch of outlaws either. Or lied to my roommate. Jesus, Cassie.

  I fume and tuck the money away. I hide the duffel in my closet, not wanting to sleep on top of it. As I'm stashing it away, I feel something hard hit my thigh. I gaze down at the bag and try to think of how hard money really is. I pull it out again and find a revolver, heavy, tucked in the corner. A gun? I swallow hard. My throat is parched.

  I grab a glass by my bed and go into the kitchen to fill it up. As I pass through the hallway, something feels wrong. Off. The wind kicks up and the trees batter the windows. I clutch my eye as it starts to twitch. I can feel movement, but maybe it's just my eye playing tricks on me.

  Someone is in the kitchen. I clutch the glass against my chest and stare hard through the darkness. "Sara?" I ask. There's no reply, but the figure moves closer. It's too big to be Sara. It's too big to be Logan. I open my mouth to scream and a hand darts out and covers my mouth shut. The smell of alcohol and sweat fill my nose. I feel like throwing up. I try to step back and run away, but the man's other hand grabs my wrist and pulls me closer to him. I squirm against his strength, but it's no good. Closer now, I can recognize him. He's the biker who was following me. The water glass is pressed up between us, and I try to free it as it's pressing against my wrist.

  He inhales and smells my hair. "Glad you finally woke up. I can see what Bomb sees in you... you're a fighter," he says. His voice is thick and full of a stinging kind of sarcasm.

  I try to yell out again, but he pushes his hand tighter against my lips and jerks my head back to face him. The glass twirls against his chest, planted between my breasts. I squeeze it harder. This has to work. A wicked smile crosses his face, and I manage to crush the glass between us, producing a loud crack. He pulls away in surprise and I grab a shard and stab it into his arm that's wrapped in my hair. He lets out a strangled yell and lets go of me, and I scream. "Sara! Call the police!" I race away from him while he's still in shock and run into my bedroom.

  I can hear him cursing as he approaches my room. I fish out the revolver and hold it up, weak handed with shaking adrenaline. I've never used a gun before, only seen what they do on TV. I outstretch my arms and point it at my door, and he stumbles against the door jamb. The piece of glass is still jutting out of his arm, with blood caked on it and it dripping onto the carpet. He grunts and tries to move closer to me, but I scream. "Stand back! I'll fucking shoot you!" I stammer. I don't sound threatening, not even to myself. He smiles and grabs my bed with a bloody hand as he moves forward. I don't think I did that much damage to him.

  Sara appears at my door and looks sleepy and bleary-eyed. She rubs her face and looks for me "Cassie, what's going on?"

  I yell at her: "Sara! Fucking call the cops! There's a guy here!"

  She blinks and finally sees what's right in front of her. She recoils in horror and races back to her room. He manages to turn on his feet and he tries to grab at her. "Don't you dare!" I say. He shoots me a stupid look and passes through the doorway. I try to pull the trigger, but my fingers feel frozen and numb. Dammit.

  I stare at the gun. Wasn't there something about safeties? I turn it over in my hand and try to find something labeled conspicuously. I don't have time for this shit. I can hear him rousing Sara, her screams penetrating the walls. I hear a meaty smack of flesh, and a thump. Fuck! I grunt as I race into the hallway and to Sara's room. He's towering over her, and she's collapsed on the floor. The phone is out of her reach. I don't understand why we even have to call the cops, don't our neighbors give a fuck?

  I point the gun at him again, at his back this time. "Stop it! I swear to God if you don't leave right now, I'll kill you."

  He turns from Sara and looks at me. He closes the gap between us until the gun's barrel is pushed against his stomach. He doesn't take his eyes off me, and I feel my arms turning to jelly. A pounding on the front door of the apartment surprises me. He looks past me and I take the moment to fall backward away from him. I start pushing away from Sara's room with my feet, digging each of my heels hard into the carpet.

  The front door bursts open and I hear a voice shout. "I fucking knew it." I look over my shoulder and see Logan, standing in the doorway with a pistol in his hand. His arm is extended toward the burly biker, and not shaking in the slightest. I want to burst into tears just at the sight of him. The old biker throws up his hands.

  "Rattlesnake, you better fucking walk out that door while you can still use your legs," Logan says. His voice is venomous and filled with a dark edge I've never heard before. It's almost terrifying. Logan takes a step to the side, giving Rattlesnake the room he needs to leave. Rattlesnake scowls and stares down at me. "Don't look at her."

  "I don't even need to. You walked right into this shit, Bomb. We know this is the woman who hit Surge, and now we know you're the one protecting her."

  Protecting. That's what Logan almost said earlier.

  "What about it? Are you going to go tattle on me?" Logan says. He narrows his eyes. I don't even know how he can see. It's bright outside the apartment and still dark in here. The light from the apartment's parking lot streams into the room through the blinds in narrow beams. My heart is racing watching them, but I don't move an inch. I'm a stone.

  "You don't have the guts to keep me quiet," Rattlesnake says. He mocks Logan. "Now the Skeletons have you by the balls. What do you think your gang will say when they find out you're just as much of a liar as Surge was?"

  A loud bang echoes through the apartment and pierces my ears. I swear I can hear it in my throat. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the air, and Rattlesnake collapses to the floor in a heap. I stare dumbfounded at him as blood pools from his body and grows sticky in the carpet. I look at Logan, no he isn't Logan right now, he's different. More ferocious, aggressive, dominating. Almost foreign. I'm looking at who Bomb really is. I can't believe it. I won't.

  He closes the gap between us and grabs me by my wrist. He pulls me up and pushes me toward the front door. I'm speechless an
d static. Logan disappears from view. I can't take my eyes off Rattlesnake, and everything feels numb and slow. Logan returns with the duffel bag and the gun, and he tosses the useless revolver into the bag and zips it shut. He mutters something under his breath, but I can't understand him. He grabs me by the wrist and takes me outside.

  I follow him down the stairs, stumbling on each step. His bike is downstairs on the sidewalk, running with its high beams staring into a neighbor's blinded window. He empties the duffel into each of his saddlebags. He climbs on the hog and I follow him when he instructs me. Wrapping my arms around his waist is the last thing I feel conscious of doing. He peels off and hauls out of the apartment complex.

  The cold wind on the highway tickles my face but it feels numb. The motorcycle should be deafening, but I already feel deafened. I'm being carried along, like a tiny spider on the wind. I'm no different. Just as frail and fragile. I couldn't even find the safety on a gun.

  I keep wanting to pinch myself and wake up. But it's no use. Nothing is a dream, not anymore. I'm suddenly thrown into all of it. I can't imagine anything else. What I thought was just a minor run in with an outlaw has suddenly turned into something so much more.

  24 Karat Romance, in partnership with Zirconia Publishing, is a new-discovery resource for romance eBooks. 24 Karat Romance handpicks and promotes romantic stories from well-known and up-and-coming authors so you receive the best eBook romance recommendations. We source and post alerts about discounted and free eBook deals, so you don't have to search for them. We also host fun giveaways on our website. To receive your invite to win free eBooks, Amazon gift cards, and much more, sign up for our newsletter at 24KaratRomance.com.

  We invite you to also join the conversation on Facebook!

  24 Karat Romance - where true romance shines brightest

  < < < < < > > > > >

  Did you love Spark? Then you should read Bomb by Amy Isan!

  Standing on the side of the road, the fallen motorcycle bursts into flames. His dark eyes meet mine and he looks like an animal ready to devour me. The worst part? I want him to.