LOGAN: The Fallen Thorns MC

by Evelyn Glass

  We were all busy. At least, they were all busy. They all had corporate type jobs. We had a lawyer, a schoolteacher, an office manager, a Personal Assistant, and the owner of a set of chain stores downtown. I was the only one with a job that didn’t really count as a job and more time to write than the others.

  We were meeting at eight and I was almost late. I rang Joanne’s doorbell, the last to arrive. When she opened the door she was still dressed in a two-piece suit, looking fresh and ready to take on the world even though the day had been long and hot. I wore jeans and sneakers and a tank top with a light jacket over it.

  Talk about contrast.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” she said and gave me a hug. Her auburn hair was set in a French roll and sprayed into submission. It wasn’t going anywhere but she still touched it lightly at the back to make sure stray hairs hadn’t escaped.

  “Everyone else is already here.”

  Of course, they were. I walked into Joanne’s house. The place was neat and smelled like cleaning products. She had a full-time maid because she was too busy with her job running all those chain stores. When I walked into the living room, the rest of them were there, too. Lela, the lawyer, looked pristine in a dark suit with a crisp white blouse and earrings that matched. She had her manuscript on her lap and looked at me expectantly. They all looked like they were ready to take over the world. April the PA with frizzy brown hair, Pam the teacher with a dull braid down her back, Brandy the office manager with the boy-cut hair that suited the sharp point of her chin. They all looked like they could do another day at the office. I was the only one who felt like I looked worn out. I was the only one looking like I needed to go to bed.

  The only thing I had in common with these girls was the fact that I wrote, too. Otherwise, they were in the fast lane and I was still getting my act together. They were fast-paced ladies and I was an artist. Sometimes I told Joanne I thought I needed to quit the group because I just didn’t fit in. She always argued with me that I was a writer and they were all writers and there was no difference. That it didn’t matter.

  Joanne was one to talk. She was the only one of us who had actually published a book. It was a Fantasy under a pen name called Tangerine Sky and she made an all right amount in royalties. She was the only one of us who could really call herself a writer. I had the feeling it was only because of her that everyone else put up with me, too.

  “Evening, ladies,” I said and sat down. They all pulled out their manuscripts. I swallowed. I didn’t have any new pages to show.

  We started with April reading what she’d written. Her writing was fast-paced. Her action scenes were stunning, her emotional ones were left wanting. We all said as much in the nicest way possible. Her story progression was jerky but at least there was a progression in the first place.

  Joanne was next and her writing as spectacular, as always. It was another fantasy, a world with druids and elves and a lost love. She was publish-worthy - again - but she rolled her eyes when we all said it.

  “The point of this group is positive criticism, ladies. Not just…positive.”

  We all laughed. What was there to say about Joanne’s work?

  We moved on. Lela had written a sex scene that had made us all uncomfortable hearing it out loud. When she looked up we were all shifting in our seats and not making eye contact.

  “It’s what sells at the moment,” she defended.

  “We know. It’s just not exactly appropriate, is it?” Joanne wasn’t scared to speak her mind.

  Lela shrugged. “It’s what I wrote. You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

  “Is Sheldon not satisfying you anymore?”

  We all laughed and Lela shot Pam a dirty look.

  “Let’s move on.” Joanne was quiet and in control. She looked at me. I swallowed and looked down at the manuscript I’d printed out to bring here.

  “I don’t have any new pages.”

  They all looked at me with faces that were obviously trying to hide the disappointment. They all had nine to five jobs that took all their time and they still managed to get pages done. I worked in a library a couple of times a week and I didn’t have anything at all.

  “I was thinking of editing the love interest, though.” I looked them each in the eye. “I met someone really interesting tonight who I thought might work as a substitute for the guy I’d been using until now.”

  “Was he hot?” coming from Lela.

  I smiled and nodded. “He’s such an asshole, though.”

  “Those are the most interesting characters, though,” Pam said. “What happened?”

  I breathed in and went back in my mind’s eye. The memory was confused with where I’d been when I’d been working on my climax scene. The cold metallic smell in the air, the body lockers that were all full - none of that had been real. But Logan Frost had been real when he’d walked in and that had been a very intense contrast to the cold I was experiencing my writing. He wasn’t just devilishly good looking; he also oozed warmth and charm like you read about.

  “He was a badass biker complete with leather and tattoos and that look where you get the feeling he’s undressing you with his eyes.” I shivered at the thought and hoped the ladies didn’t notice.

  “What did he do that made him an asshole?” Joanne was leaning forward in her chair, everyone else’s stories forgotten.

  “He had fines for bringing DVDs in late and he got Alicia to reverse them by turning on the charm. She practically drooled all over him. I swear if he snapped his fingers she would have orgasmed for him on the spot.”

  They giggled.

  “I think he sounds like a great substitute for your boring lawyer type.” This from Lela, who had been offended that I’d made my love interest a lawyer and hadn’t made him a demigod, too.

  “This guy will cause a lot of problems for my main character, though. She’s married, remember? And he’s really not the type to respect something like that. He thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind and I think most women are on board with that summary.”

  “Just not you.”

  I couldn’t tell if April thought it a disappointment or not. If anyone had a poker face it was her.

  I shrugged. “I don’t think it’s attractive throwing yourself at a man.”

  The girls all nodded.

  “Are you going to see him again?” Joanne’s question was careful but I knew what she was getting at. This was not about the character but the real life man.

  “He is coming to the library just after opening time tomorrow to pick up the wallet he forgot there tonight when he was getting all twisted up in Alicia’s panties.”

  “So you’ll be able to study him then to base your character on,” Lela smiled. “Any sex scenes in your book?”

  I shook my head and laughed, trying not to show the blush that had my cheeks glowing bright red. “I’m not going to sleep with him for the sake of writing the hottest sex scene.”

  Lela shrugged. “Hey, nothing wrong with research, right?”

  April nudged her before looking at her watch.

  “Ladies, I need to go. I have a conference call with someone in Paris.”

  We hadn’t done everyone’s manuscripts yet.

  “How about we meet Saturday night at eight? Does that work for everyone?” Joanne looked around the circle and when everyone nodded she clapped her hands on her thighs. “Right, then, ladies. Thank you for coming.”

  They girls all got up and dispersed, leaving the house one by one until it was just me who was left. Joanne smiled at me and walked to the kitchen with empty cups of coffee. I grabbed the last two and followed her.

  “So, you want to tell me more about this guy you met?”

  She said it the way my mom would have said it. I shook my head.

  “There’s really nothing more to tell. He came back after he left because I let him know his wallet was still there.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I made him sit outside beca
use it was past closing time and then refused to go back in and get the wallet when it was time for me to go home.”

  Joanne turned to me. “You like him.”

  “I don’t! This was just because he’d messed with Alicia’s head, making her think he was so interested so he could get out of those fines. He really doesn’t care about her no matter how hard she was throwing herself at him.”

  Joanne rinsed the cups under hot water before packing them into the dishwasher. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

  “I’m not!” It was the second forceful denial. It was starting to sound like I was interested. I really wasn’t. I mean: he was hot. He was drop dead gorgeous, in fact. I hadn’t seen a man who looked like that in real life, ever, and it had been genuine. The problem was that he knew how good looking he was and a man like that was insufferable. Besides, I couldn’t stand a man who insisted every woman melts into a pile of goo at his feet.

  “I’m only seeing him again so he can get his wallet, and then that will be the end of it. He has a library card. If I see him again other than that it will be to check out a book or return it. Probably late.”

  Joanne shook her hands before drying them on a washcloth and leaned her hip against the counter.

  “This is all very good of you to say, but I know you better than that, remember? I’m your friend.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Which is the only reason I’m still in this damn club. You know I don’t fit in.”

  “Yeah, but you have the most interesting stories. Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice how they were hanging on your every word in there.”

  “Because I was talking about a man that was sexy. Lela eats that stuff up.”

  “I knew you thought he was sexy.”

  She had me in a corner again. She was too clever for this. Maybe it would have been better if she were the lawyer and not Lela. Joanne was a force to be reckoned with. I always felt stupid when I was next to her even though she insisted my kind of intelligence was just different from hers.

  “I have to get out of here. I want to see if I can still write a little tonight.”

  “You’re fine getting home, or would you like me to drop you off?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” I wasn’t going to let her drive me around like she was my mom just because it was easier and cheaper to not use my car.

  “I’m coming past you in the morning, though. Drive with me then.”

  I agreed. If it wasn’t out of her way I didn’t mind.

  –––––—

  I woke up and got dressed, ready for Joanne to pick me up. She looked crisp and fresh and I knew she’d had a whole morning behind her by the time I got into her SUV.

  She drove right past the library on her way to work and it saved me a few dollars when she did.

  “Thanks.”

  We got into her SUV and drove the short distance from her house to the Branciforte Library.

  “He’s not here yet,” I said absently.

  “Are you waiting for him?”

  I looked at her. Her face was straight with no emotion but her eyes were laughing at me. I shook my head but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “It’s for research, you know?”

  “Right.”

  I shook my head and leaned over to hug her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you want to go out for drinks or something afterward?”

  She nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I got out of the SUV and waved at her before she pulled off. The library parking lot was empty. I walked up to the door and unlocked it, disabling the alarm and walking to the counter. I started up the computer and put my manuscript on the counter. I put my phone on top of it and sat down in the chair where I spent most of my day.

  I had to train at home because I sat down all day, but I didn’t stick to it enough to justify it and the chocolate I ate. Thank God I had a fast metabolism, which meant I hardly picked up weight even when I ate badly.

  I glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. The library was officially open. I walked to Alicia’s office and found the wallet in the drawer where I’d left it last night. I put it in a drawer behind the counter instead and looked at the door that led outside.

  Chapter 4

  Logan

  I stopped at the library at five minutes past eleven. I had a slight headache - I’d hardly slept last night. The meeting had only finished at half past twelve and we’d talking until three in the morning before going home. I’d been up at five again because I kept getting calls from an unknown number and someone on the other side of the line not saying anything.

  It didn’t scare me but I had the idea that someone was after me or the boys and I had to make sure they were okay. I’d let Saul know something was up. In the Club, he was my right-hand man, a huge badass bastard who didn’t take no for an answer and would protect me and my boys with his life.

  I rubbed my hand over my face before I got off my bike. I’d put on a fresh set of leather pants and a black jean jacket that had the sleeves ripped out and it looked like someone had shot pointed studs into it with a shotgun. It was all over the place without a pattern.

  Yes, I’d dressed up especially for Selena. I wanted to look good for her, even though I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be interested. It made me want to win her over that much more. I wanted the only girl, possibly in the whole world, who didn’t want me. It was a thrill. I couldn’t remember when last I’d gone through this much effort for a woman.

  Definitely not for that bitch of an ex of mine. May had been a pain in the ass and I hadn’t bothered with her long before we’d ended our relationship. It was the crazy that had done it for me, though. She’d lost her plot very early on in our relationship - if she’d had it at all, to begin with - and I’d lost interest because no one could deal with someone as unstable as she was.

  That was a relationship I definitely didn’t miss. The only thought I ever gave her was one that was tainted with a hell of a lot of relief. I liked to use her as a bar to measure other women against. The more different they were from May, the better. It was cruel in a way but she didn’t know and the girls didn’t have to, either.

  Every man had a past they didn’t necessarily want others to know about.

  I climbed the steps up to the library and my eyes fell on her. She sat at the computer, staring at it with a far off look on her face. She wasn’t here; she was in some distant country, wherever her daydreams were taking her. It gave me a moment to just look at her without seeming like I was staring.

  She turned her head to me when I was halfway to the counter and her face changed. That open, dreamy look disappeared and her face closed. It was disappointing to lose that look on her face and to be the one that caused it.

  “You’re back.” Her tone was almost hostile.

  “I’m here for my wallet.”

  Blue eyes. I knew now. And not just the boring blue, either. Electric blue. Cerulean blue. Stare-into-her-eyes-forever blue.

  She nodded and opened a drawer. She pulled it out and put it on the counter. I pocketed in and leaned my elbows on the counter, looking for something - anything - that would let me talk to her just a little longer.

  My eyes fell on the wad of pages next to her. It was typed out neatly and it looked like a book of sorts. I frowned. “What’s that?”

  She glanced down at the pages. “None of your business.”

  She was feisty. I loved it. I wanted to see more of it. It was better than her being so closed off.

  I reached over the counter and grabbed it, pulling it away before she could react. Her face was a mixture of surprise and horror. The only reason I’d been able to grab it was because she hadn’t expected I would do that. Most of the time I could get things like that - the element of surprise was my friend all the way through.

  “Give that back!” she cried and shot out of her chair, trying to grab it out of my hands over the counter but I took a step back and she was stuck.

 
“Is this a book?”

  “Please, don’t.”

  She sounded a little pleading, but not enough to win out over my curiosity. I read the introduction paragraph.

  I know you. We’ve been here before. No surprises. A settled score. I know the darkness. From inside. A reckless rage. A poisoned pride.”

  I got shivers. These were song lyrics. White Buffalo, if I was correct.

  She’d come around the counter and her hand reached for the manuscript. I didn’t want her to have it back. I wanted to read more. I wanted to know more. What was this story? Who was this woman? I understood her stare at the screen now. She was a writer - she had to be. I’d witnessed art in its raw form when I’d seen her like that.

  “Give it back.” A command, not a question. It made me want to keep it that much more. I didn’t like it when people told me what to do. What was more, I didn’t want to give this up before reading it.

  “No.”

  She looked surprised. Didn’t men often tell her no? I looked her up and down. She wore jeans and sneakers but, good God, jeans and sneakers had never looked this damn good.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not going to give it back. I want to read it.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because it’s mine and it’s not done yet. I don’t want you to.”

  It was a classic I-don’t-think-my-work-is-good scenario that happened to every artist. I was no artist but I knew people who were - some of the kids at the club, for instance - and they always hated their own work.

  This manuscript was really good. I’d only read the opening image but it had me hooked. I wanted more.

  “I want to use my wallet and take you out to breakfast.” It was out there. I was asking her out to spend time with me. I wanted to know her mind, who she was on the inside. She had suddenly become the most intriguing thing in the world.