by Nicole Fox
“You should start picking out rings and all that nonsense; they’ll want to film the party and engagement episodes in the next few weeks. If you buy whatever ring you want, I’ll pay you back. Get it soon.” Davis stood up from the bar, his eyes still locked on his phone. “I have a date tonight, so don’t bother texting me with pictures. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” Without a single word of affection or farewell, Davis was gone, his face still so buried in his phone that he couldn’t see how unhappy Francesca looked.
Pouring herself a big cup of coffee, Francesca slowly stirred a bit of milk and sugar in. Then she dumped half of it out in the sink. “Doctor says no more than one, eight-ounce caffeinated coffee a day.”
She stood around in her silent kitchen, sipping slowly on her one allowed coffee. The misery of everything that had happened to her so far was starting to push hard against her shoulders, weighing her down even more than the baby inside of her stomach.
It took every ounce of willpower and courage she had inside of her to not run to her phone and beg for Logan to take her back. Hating every second of her new life, Francesca couldn’t even take any joy in the fact that the world seemed to have fallen in love with her and Davis as a couple. She didn’t care that her career was back on track, that the ratings were up, or that the store was doing well.
She just wanted Logan by her side.
Tears slipped down her face as she cradled her growing belly with her arms. “But I need a father for my child that doesn’t break the law, that doesn’t ride with a gang. I need Davis for the cameras, for now.”
Maybe someday, she would learn to love someone new, and be free of both Logan and Davis.
But she doubted it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Logan
“Hey, boss, there’s someone here to see you.” Blade’s face was all twisted up with concern as she poked her head into the office.
Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What kind of someone?”
Blade shrugged and disappeared behind the door before he could ask any more questions, which was a really bad sign. Blade always just came into his office. “Shit.”
“Hopefully it’s not the police. We cleared up everything with them months ago. I think.” Logan pulled on his jacket and stepped down into the main hangar where the boys were repairing the bikes that had been left by clients to be fixed. Or, they should have been working. Instead, they were distracted by Logan’s visitor.
He chuckled humorlessly. Dressed like that, it’s no wonder she’s drawing attention.
“Good afternoon, Nikki,” Logan called, pulling Nikki’s attention from her phone. She hadn’t changed much since he’d first met her; the long, black curls still delicately framed her pretty face. The ends were still brightly colored, like she’d tripped into a wet canvas.
This time around, her contacts were a too-bright, too-rich sky blue. Logan silently wondered if Nikki even remembered what her natural eye color was at this point. “Buenas tardes, Logan. Nice digs, man.”
“How did you find me?”
Nikki shrugged, smacking her gum loudly against the roof of her mouth as the bangles lining her arms jangled loudly together. “I got my ways. That’s not important though.”
Logan glanced around, amused at the open-mouthed stares of his mechanics. “Get back to work and stop acting like animals,” Logan yelled, making every single one of his boys jump like they’d been caught sneaking cookies from mama’s cookie jar. Nikki laughed out loud, then took Logan’s arm and led him outside.
Logan lit up a cigarette, offering one to Nikki. She took it delicately between perfectly manicured nails, pulling her own lighter from the depths of her designer bag. Blowing smoke into the cool, December air, Nikki glanced around herself with surprise. “You have done quite well for yourself, Logan. Good for you.”
“You didn’t come here just to pat me on the back, I’m assuming.”
Nikki shook her head, leaning back against the metal of the warehouse, looking up into the winter’s sky. She looked around, then back down at Logan. Suddenly she asked, “You miss her?”
“Of course I do,” Logan snapped, wanting to walk away from this conversation. “Does she — Doesn’t she miss me?”
Nikki rolled her strange, too-blue eyes. “Duh, of course she does. She’s in love with you. That’s not even a fair question.”
Crossing his arms, he hoped Nikki couldn’t hear his heart thundering in his chest. “So that still doesn’t explain why you are here.”
“I’m here because, although Francesca won’t tell you herself, I think you need to know. Her ‘relationship’ with Davis is just for the cameras. They don’t see each other except for shooting and the occasional publicized public outing.”
Despite his best efforts, Logan could feel hope flaring in his chest. The feeling made him dizzy, the blood rushing loud through his veins. “Maybe I have a chance then. Maybe I can get her to take me back, even after everything. I just have to prove I deserve it.”
But he had no idea how.
“Francesca should do whatever it is that will make her happy. Staying with Davis obviously doesn’t and being with me won’t either. So you need to make her see that.” Logan put out the cigarette on the ground under his boot, blowing out the last bit of smoke from his lungs. “She should do what’s best for our kid and herself.”
“She’s miserable without you, you know.”
It was like a blow to the stomach to hear those words; he’d never wanted to make Francesca miserable. After a moment to compose himself, he answered, his voice surprisingly steady. “Francesca and the baby are better off without me. I think it’s time for you to go home.” After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth again. “But if you wouldn’t mind bringing something back with you, it would be appreciated.”
# # #
Francesca
Francesca stared at the obviously handmade crib, her eyes flowing over the intricately hand-carved bassinet, her stomach churning. It was beautiful and obviously a long labor of love. It must have taken Logan every spare hour of every day they had been apart to create this masterpiece. Tears sprung to her eyes, and Francesca had to grab the kitchen counter to keep herself upright.
“You went to see him.” It wasn’t really a question, but Nikki nodded anyway.
“If nothing else, it proves how much he still loves you.” Francesca glared at her best friend as she flipped her thick hair over her shoulder, a cocky grin on her pretty face. “He’s really cleaned himself and his people up; he’s completely legitimate now. He runs a garage in Boston now, fixing up bikes and cars.”
Francesca just stared at her, ice slowly replacing the blood in her veins. “I’m glad he managed not to do anything illegal in the past two months. Is this a record?” She knew she was being a bitch, but Nikki had gone behind her back and brought up all sorts of emotions that Francesca wasn’t ready to feel yet.
This was her fault.
“Logan is still way better for you than Davis, I mean it.” Nikki jumped up onto the counter, sitting down on the white tiles of Francesca’s kitchen island, her feet swinging as she popped her bubblegum in between her teeth. “You should tell that lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch to crawl back under whatever hole he crawled out of and run back to Logan. He’s a much better man, even with his past.”
Francesca crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to wince as she pressed too hard against her very sensitive breasts. “I won’t put my child in danger just because it looks like Logan might have given up his criminal ways. He can go back to them at any time. You don’t know.”
“And you can’t prove he will go back to them, Francesca! How can you have so little faith in the man you claim to love and so much faith in the asshole that cheated on you?”
“Love has nothing to do with this!” Francesca yelled, her voice cracking with unhappiness. “Davis will raise Logan’s son like his own and has promised to be there for all of his birthdays and everything. Log
an can’t promise the same if he ends up in jail, Nikki.”
“What is it with you?” Nikki snapped in return, rage lighting up her beautiful eyes. “You are so willing to see only the best in Davis, who is a garbage fire of a human being, and only the worst in Logan who is a good guy trying to make things right so you will be back in his life. He wants to be part of his son’s life so badly that he’s completely changed his life around, and you won’t even give him a chance.” Nikki slid off of the counter and walked towards the front door, shouting over her shoulder. “Logan is lucky he’s not stuck with you, considering how much you’re determined to hate him!”
All of the anger and pain flooded out of Francesca the moment Nikki slammed the door, bringing tears to her emerald eyes. Why did doing the right thing have to be so hard? Being with Logan would be right, but it’s just so much easier to stay here and not have to try. There was a part of Francesca that wanted to drop everything and do whatever necessary to make life with Logan work, but the rest of her was afraid. What would it do to her career, her show, her store, her life?
If he slips, I will end up alone with a child and my man in jail. Can I really live that way?
Pressing her face into her hands, Francesca stood in the empty, white kitchen and cried. The sounds of her tears echoed around the empty house. There was no one else around, no one left to fill the aching void inside of her chest. She cradled her growing belly, eyes streaming tears as she sank to the floor.
“I don’t know what to do.” The tile floor was icy cold against her body, but she didn’t seem to have the strength left to pick herself up. “I don’t know what to do.”
She just sat there and cried quietly into the empty, lifeless silence around her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Logan
Logan glanced around at the chaos, trying to decide how to handle the unforeseen boom in traffic. The toy drive was just supposed to be a local event; where did all of these people come from?
The Satan’s Chaos First Annual Toy Drive was looking to be an unprecedented success, one that had blown both Logan and Blade’s hopes completely out of the water. The whole damned garage was flooded with bright toys and bows and ribbons and strangers with cameras. News vans lined the streets outside, drawing onlookers from the streets, curious to see what all of the fuss was about.
“I’m curious to know what all of the fuss is about, too.” Logan glanced around, watching as the camera crews tracked down all of his people, doing short interviews on the charity work. Logan heard the phrase “Bikers Gone Good,” so many times from the reports’ mouths that he wanted to gag. Like we’re the first group of guys to clean up our acts and do something worth doing.
“So, Mr. Pendergrass, you’re the leader of this group, is that right?” some lady in a red suit was asking him, her stage makeup giving her a strange, clown look in real life.
“Uh, yes. I’m the president of Satan’s Chaos. I organized this toy drive as a symbol of our newfound devotion to the community; all the proceeds and toys will be split up, half going to St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital and half to the Hope for the Holidays foundation.” Logan blinked at the too-bright camera lights, trying to figure out how to get out of more of these interviews.
“But you were a criminal operation before.”
Logan winced as the reporter shoved the microphone back in his face. “I wouldn’t say that,” he laughed, then suggestively slow winked at the camera, making the woman in red laugh. “But this year, we made a bit more money than usual. So we’re giving some of it back to the community. Most of the donated money for this has come from Francesca Savoy. The rest has come from the profits from our new garage, the SCMC.”
The reporter asked a few more questions, and Logan steered her away from any questions about Francesca. Instead, he talked about the garage and the people who had devoted their lives to it, including Blade and a few others. The press looked a little disappointed as he clearly kept maneuvering around questions about America’s favorite reality TV star.
The cameras packed up eventually and left, leaving Logan with massive piles of toys and a shocked group of Chaos boys.
“What was all that about?” Blade asked, scratching the shaved sides of her hair. “That was way more’n we were expecting. Did you call someone, boss?”
Logan shook his head. “I think this calls for a round of drinks though, doesn’t it, boys?” A cheer filled the room from the men and women who Logan was lucky enough to have on his side. It didn’t turn out like I thought it would, but it’s not such a bad life. He winced a little whenever he thought about Francesca or his son, but at least he still had all of this. After he gave them some money, they brought back several pizzas and a drum of beer from somewhere, breaking open both and passing them around.
Logan’s phone buzzed loudly just as the last of the pizza disappeared. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but it was the same area code as Francesca and Nikki’s numbers. Frowning, he stood up from the celebration and walked away, putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
A familiar, not wholly unwelcome voice answered from the other side. “Greetings! Merry Christmas and all that jazz. How yah been, Logan?”
“Just fine... Quentin, right?”
“That’s right. Quentin Maloney. The one Francesca tried to get to make you fake IDs and all that,” he said, chuckling. “Been awhile since you’ve been around though.”
“You helped me get out of jail; I never thanked you for that.” Logan swallowed hard, not sure exactly what to say to this guy. He seemed like one of those slimeballs who straddled the good and bad parts of the world without having any moral issues at all. Logan hoped he wasn’t coming back for some sort of reconciliation for helping him.
“Not a big deal, Logan; the lady was paying me anyway. I just called to see how you were enjoying your Christmas present from me and Nikki.”
Logan blinked, his mouth turning down into a frown. “You sicced the news vans on us for our charity event?”
“Yeah, some pretty nice work there, wasn’t it? Lucky for the girlies I know people who know people. You’ll be needing all of that good press in a few days. Keep your eyes on the entertainment news on TV, would yah? I think you might find some of the upcoming stories really interesting.”
Before Logan could question him further, Quentin hung up. Logan didn’t like the smug sound of that little dirt bag’s voice at all. What the hell was all that about?
Putting down his phone, Logan pushed the thoughts of that odd conversation out of his head, determined to celebrate with his boys, no matter what Nikki and Quentin were up to.
# # #
Francesca
When Francesca’s phone rang, she almost threw it out of the window instead of answering. The cameras were in her house again and the producers were arguing over the best way to have Francesca and Davis’s engagement play out on screen. Francesca’s mother was there, trying to dominate the conversation, and Davis, who was supposed to be in today’s filming, was nowhere to be found. How are we supposed to shoot the engagement shots today if he doesn’t show up?
Francesca imagined he was passed out somewhere, his face buried in between some nameless woman’s boobs. But she didn’t bother calling him; if he didn’t show up, it would just be one more day she could put off this fake engagement that she didn’t want anything to do with.
Glancing down at her phone, Francesca saw Quentin’s name flash across the screen. She picked up the phone, stepping out of the kitchen and into the dining room where it was a little quieter. “Hello, Quentin,” she said, unable to keep the frown out of her voice.
“Good morning, darlin. It’s always a pleasure to hear your sweet voice,” Quentin answered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I look forward to our conversations, I really do.”
Francesca took a deep breath. “You’re right; I’m sorry. I am glad to hear from you, I think. What can I do for you?”
“I need you tah do me a big favor, Francesca
. Turn on your TV and switch to channel five. You can thank me later!”
The undeniable sound of a phone being hung up rang in her ear and Francesca gaped at her cell phone. What a jackass, hanging up on me. Grumpy and frowning, Francesca stepped into the living room, where the cameras were already up and rolling. Francesca’s mother and Marston were chatting on camera when she walked in, plopping down on the couch and turning on the TV.
Diane turned on her almost immediately. “Do you mind, Francesca?”
