Iron

by Amy Isan

  “Cassie,” Logan says. His strong hands grip my shoulders and I can’t help but look at his tattoo sleeves. Covered in skulls and flying bats. Macabre. I guess I never really noticed the details before. “You don't know Surge like I do.”

  I brush his hands off. “If I hadn’t gotten involved with you, they wouldn’t be trying to get to me. Why don’t you answer me? Your crew could take out theirs, right? Then we wouldn’t have to ditch town.”

  “You think that would work?” He grins a little, almost playfully. He points at his swollen and bruised eye. “This is what happened when I tried to talk to a former club member. He had a gun, Cassie.” My hand goes to my mouth and I gasp involuntarily. He continues, “Besides, bodies make things more complicated than you probably think from watching all those TV shows.”

  “I don’t watch that much TV...” I mutter.

  After a moment, he reaches up and pulls my hand away from my mouth, weaving his fingers between mine as he does. His affection is sweet and unexpected, and my cheeks burn. I notice a thick patch of rough skin bulging on his hand and I pull his palm up close to my face to look. A ragged scar runs diagonally across his right palm and it looks deep. “What’s this?”

  He doesn’t twitch. “Part of my initiation with the Ruin Outlaws. Before that, the Los Devils in California. We all have one.” I graze the scar with my finger, being careful not to apply too much pressure.

  “I guess leather and bikes wasn’t the only thing tying you to them...”

  His fingers move a little, and I feel a burst of warmth in my chest. His eyes meet mine, and I kiss him in an instant. Our lips explore each other, and I feel relief for the first time in days. His sticky body envelopes mine, and I want it all. I want him to take me, make me forget about everything that happened. To make the images of Rattlesnake lying on the floor of my apartment disappear. He reads my mind, knowing exactly what I want. Our feverish kisses fill the silent air.

  Logan picks me up and sets me on the counter in the kitchen, and then he unbuckles my pants. With a quick yank, he pulls them down to my ankles and presses his warm body between my thighs. I moan into his ear, and his tattooed arms explore my body, groping my breasts and waist. He whispers my name, and I know everything is going to be okay.

  His breath is hot on my skin. His air conditioner doesn’t work and his apartment has been pretty hot. Sweat builds up on my shirt and back, which makes peeling off my clothes that much more satisfying. His hard body sends hot warmth through my core, and without thinking about it, I suck on his ear. He gives me a roguish smirk and I moan as he slips his hand into my panties. After grinding against me for a few moments, he takes his pants off, dropping them and their buckle to the floor.

  “What if someone is watching your place?” I say, breathy and hollow. I don’t even care.

  “Don’t worry about that right now, just relax, Cassie. Besides, what's the harm? They'll get a show anyway,” he finishes with a smirk.

  I lose myself as he spreads my knees apart and grinds against me with his bulge. I throw my head back and place a hand on the back of his neck to keep myself upright, and he drags me a little closer to the edge of the counter. The tile feels cool under my skin, and before I can blink, he’s pulled his cock out and pushed my panties aside. He’s inside me. It feels just like the first time with him: risky, naughty, and exhilarating. He grunts as our hips meet, and I rake my fingers through his hair and drag him forward, almost throwing him off balance.

  My vision goes blurry. His breathing and frenzied eyes are all that fill mine. I can’t shake this feeling, one that I’m scared he might not share. My fingers can feel his pulse on the back of his neck, and I want our hearts to be synchronized. Sweat beads on his forehead and temples, and the urge to lick it off fills me. I always want him like this, vulnerable and animalistic. I grip his hips with my knees and pull him closer to me. Throbs deep in my body meet his and we climax, breathing ragged and jerky in his sweltering kitchen.

  He kisses me and holds in the moment. I feel like I’m suspended by strings, that I don’t have control over myself. Funny enough, I don’t want the control anyway. His tongue slips between my lips and I let him explore me. His breathing is already steady and normal again, but he’s still kissing me. I’m only used to him leaving, to pushing me away and growing silent. I grope him and kiss him back, feeding that hungry animal that hides inside him. He bites my lip and cups my breasts, and he grinds against me again. After what feels like a moment but I wished was an eternity, our lips break apart and he stares into my eyes.

  He’s unguarded and I can read him for the first time since that day on the highway when we briefly exchanged glances. He looks... concerned? Before I can open my mouth to say anything, his eyes go dark again and he pulls away from me, as if he’s hiding himself. I reach out to try and grab his shoulder, but miss and slip down onto my feet. I hike my pants back up and follow him out of the kitchen, but he’s faster than me. He disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door.

  “What’s going on?” I say, knocking on the door. No answer. I slam my palm on the door hard enough to make myself wince in pain. “Come on, Logan! Don’t hide from me!” I collapse against the door and fall to my knees, too weak from the afterglow to fight much harder. I lean my forehead against the thin door and whisper to myself. “I need you.”

  I lift my head as I hear movement and the door clicks. He swings it open and kneels down to meet me. He embraces me and falls to his knees as well. I stroke his hair and his hand clasps the back of my neck and he hugs me tighter.

  No words. He doesn’t explain himself or his strange reaction. Did I do something? I hesitate to ask and that hesitation ends the moment. He releases me and stands up, guiding me to my feet with his strong hands.

  “What do you want to eat tonight?”

  “Logan... I...”

  He shakes his head and that roguish smirk comes back. I can’t help but feel at ease when I see that cocky attitude. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll get us something good.”

  “You aren’t leaving are you?”

  “No. I’ll order in. Pizza sound good?”

  I watch him as he picks up his phone and starts dialing the numbers to a pizza joint. He seems totally normal now, if not a little distant. If only I could bridge that gap with him. I feel that brief glimpse I saw after we had sex was just a taste of what truly makes Logan tick.

  . . .

  After eating cheesy and greasy pizza, we’re both worn out for the night. After the lights are turned off, he once again takes his post on the floor in front of the coffee table and I spread across the couch that apparently folds out. I was wondering why he didn’t have a bed when I first saw his place.

  I don’t know why he won’t just climb into bed with me, but I don’t want to push the issue either. It's not like we haven’t had sex or anything.

  Maybe it’s for a different reason... I watch him lower himself to the floor, still fully clothed, and take his place under a thin blanket. The front door is only a couple of feet from him. Is it so he can be the first up if something happens? The door is locked, dead-bolted, and chained shut. Not that those little hotel-chain locks do a lot, but in combination with everything else? If I’m not anxious about it, why should he be?

  He leans over onto his side and whispers something to me, but I can’t hear him. I want to rouse myself and ask him to repeat it, but don’t want to break the moment. I listen to him turn back when I don’t reply. I still feel unsettled after seeing him change earlier, in a way that I wish I could help. If he would just look at me, and talk to me.

  Hah, listen to me. If he could talk to me. I can’t even summon the courage to ask a man who I’ve slept with several times to join me in my bed. If it keeps his mind at ease, then maybe I should just let that be my relaxant.

  “Cassie,” he says, his back facing me. He’s louder than when he last mumbled something.

  I pretend to wake, making a show of it and smacking my lips together. “Huh
?” My heart races in anticipation. Is he going to bring up what happened earlier? How he just disappeared like that? Is he going to join me in bed?

  He stirs and is silent for a little bit. I hear him roll around a little more, then he grunts. “Nothing.”

  I lean my head back into my pillow and shake the feeling that he had something important to tell me. My breathing relaxes and I close my eyes and try to sleep, the orange light filling the apartment from the street disappearing as I shut my eyes.

  Sleep is fitful and hard to come by. Every time I manage to start to doze, I swear I hear a bang of the front door getting kicked open. Another instant I’ll swear I see the flash of a gun shot behind my closed eyes. I can’t stop the hallucinations from coming. I feel my forehead and try to see if maybe I’m getting sick. At least if I was sick, I’d have an explanation.

  I feel a bit warm, but nothing unusual. I sit up and look across the breakfast counter at the microwave and realize it’s been three hours since Logan called my name. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and I can just make out his lump on the floor in front of the bed.

  I carefully step out from under the covers and tug the sheets free from the mattress. He grumbles and grunts, but doesn’t move. I tip toe toward him, being careful to not trip on my own sheet cowl. Standing near his back, my toes feel itchy, like even they beg to touch him. His breathing is gentle and steady. After thinking about it for sometime and even letting a bit of the apartment air reach my exposed skin, I ball a fist inside my blankets and go for it. I kneel down and throw my blanket over him and before he can adjust; I lift up the collection of blankets and slide in next to him. I squeeze my arm around his shoulder and feel his heart beat. He mumbles something lightly, and I sigh. After a few moments, he turns toward me and opens his eyes.

  “Cassie,” he whispers.

  The air is still between us.

  “Yes?” I whisper back. His lips are tantalizing close to mine. He puts his arm around me and pulls me closer.

  “Turn around,” he insists. I roll onto my right shoulder and he scoots closer to me, spooning our knees and bodies together. His tattooed arm rests across my arm and he squeezes me tight. For the first time in the last couple of days, I feel safe. More than safe, I feel protected.

  My lips move to say his name, but he’s already asleep again. His breath is steady and deep, and without any trouble now, I follow him into dreams.

  . . .

  The sunlight filters through Logan’s beaten blinds and stir me awake. I rise and let the blankets fall off my shoulder, finding Logan’s pillow empty but still depressed. I look around for him, feeling suddenly anxious that he’s missing. Immediately I find him in the kitchen preparing something to eat. He’s shirtless and his muscles twitch each time he stirs or moves the frying pan. The fragrant smell of bacon and eggs fills up his apartment and I couldn’t be happier for it. For a couple of minutes, I completely forget about the Skeletons, about Rattlesnake, about the Ruin Outlaws. I hold tight onto the illusion that it’s just me and him together.

  I keep a blanket tightly woven around my shoulders, like some kind of makeshift cloak, and wander into the kitchen. He gives me a friendly smirk and I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him away from the stove. I just wish I could push him against the fridge and cover him in kisses. He dishes out the breakfast onto plates and hands me one. As I take it, my blanket-cloak falls to the floor in a heap, and I can’t help but blush at his reaction. His eyes immediately move to my breasts and stomach and a mischievous look spreads across his face.

  . . .

  We sit at the counter together and eat, quietly and without passing words between us. I don’t know what he’s planning for the day, and I don’t want to ask and ruin the illusion I’ve conjured up in my head.

  “Are we leaving today?”

  His mood dims and he frowns after he finishes his meal. He pushes the plate across the counter with a fury and it crashes down into the sink with a loud clatter. I stare at him as he folds his arms and leans back, not giving me another look. “You make this so much harder than it has to be, Cassie.”

  “What?” I gulp and try to keep my nerves from getting to me. I don’t want him to see me scared again, not like before. That was humiliating enough.

  His eyes are fixed on the kitchen wall, he won’t look at me. “I’m going to take Surge’s advice and turn you into the police. Then I’ll leave the country.”

  “What?” I drop my fork on my plate and it bounces and rolls onto the floor. I hardly notice it. “I thought I was leaving with you!”

  He shakes his head a little, but there’s no conviction to it. “No. They’re after me. I can’t promise you’ll be safe.”

  “Bullshit,” I say. I wish I could slam my fork on the counter, but I can’t. “This is because I don’t know how to use a gun, isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t —,”

  “Just teach me and I’ll be fine. I don’t need you babysitting me or anything. If you have shit you have to do, just say so, or better, just do it.”

  “Cassie —,”

  I cut him off again, “Or if you just want to get rid of me, tell me right now. If you really want to get rid of me, not this wishy-wash shit. Is this why you were so weird after we had sex yesterday?” I pause and mash my fork into the eggs, breaking the yolks and letting them run over the plate like blood. I don’t raise my gaze when I add, “I wouldn’t feel safe with the police.”

  “Cassie. As far as anyone knows... I’ve kidnapped you.”

  “That’s horseshit too.” I fume and slam my fists on the counter. My plate bounces a little. He doesn’t flinch or move a muscle, I try and make eye contact with him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “Cassie,” he repeats my name, and my nerves fray. He looks right at me and I feel a chill. “I’m taking you to the police and everything will be easier and better this way.”

  “Who cares!” I manage to almost shout. “You didn’t even ask me what I wanted. If all this shit happened a week ago I might have agreed with you. But not today, not anymore. Logan,” I grab his arm and pull it into my lap. “I want to be with you. Isn’t that what you want? What we decided?”

  He grunts and pulls his hand back. His eyes have clouded again. “I can’t protect you.”

  “You’re not listening. I don’t care. That isn’t what I’m asking for.”

  He turns away from me, then stands up. “But I want to. I can’t even explain it myself,” he struggles to find the words. “I want you to be safe more than anything in the world — more than I care about my club, or even myself. I don’t know what the Skeletons are planning, but after Rifle slammed a gun butt at my face, I don’t know what to expect. That might be the only slack I’ll get.” He corrects himself, “That we’ll get.”

  “You just said they want you, right?”

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t go after you for sport,” He lowers his head. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s gotten caught in the crossfire. At least, when I was in California—”

  “Just stop.” I stand up and move to the couch. “If you’re getting rid of me, just do it.”

  He seems stunned. Isn’t this what he wanted? “What did you think would happen?”

  “Who cares?” I grab what meager possessions I own and throw them under my arm. “I don’t know why you were helping me to begin with. If you wanted to get rid of me, you should’ve stopped showing up. You gave me 50 grand and a gun, and then showed up and saved my life. You introduced me to your crew, and now you’re abandoning me. After all that? You’re telling me it was all worthless?”

  He frown deepens as I talk, and when I finish, he throws open his arms and shouts. “No! It wasn’t worthless! Meeting you has meant more to me than I thought anything could. When I came here I didn’t give a shit about the club.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “I told you, to keep you safe.” His guard is lowered. I rush up to him and embrace him, and h
e hugs me back.

  “I don’t give a shit about that, Logan, fuck. Listen to me. I just want to be with you.”

  He’s silent, but his arms squeeze me tightly against his chest. I can smell his scent, that masculine musk that makes me forget everything. That keeps the visions of Rattlesnake dying at bay. I take his silence as agreement, especially when he breaks away from the hug to kiss my neck, again, and again.

  CHAPTER 5 — LOGAN

  Cassie is impossible. I can’t get rid of her and I don't want to. I was worried she was only agreeing to come with me but not that she sincerely wanted to. I have to put my trust in her.

  She is different. She’s fiery in a way no other woman I’ve ever been with is. She snaps back at me and calls me on my shit. I watch her as we pack to leave, and she’s folding clothes that I would have stuffed into bags without a second thought. I don’t want to say it, but I think she sees more to me than there really is. Can I be the hero she needs me to be?

  I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. After we finish packing spare clothes and other things that my mind runs across, I grab the revolver off the counter and open the cabinet above the fridge to retrieve my pistol. I’ve only done a border crossing once before so I hope things haven’t changed much since then. I also had the advantage of having more men with me... but maybe looking like a romantic couple will work in my favor.

  I catch Cassie’s eyes as I holster both guns and wrap them in a towel, before shoving them deep into one of the saddlebags. She doesn’t say a word about the weapons. At this point I don’t know what could phase her. She’s a lot tougher than she lets on, I think.

  Thinking about that, I was sure I’d made her a mute after gutting Rattlesnake in her living room. She was so quiet on the ride home. I really didn’t want to have to do that in front of her, but what choice did he give me? I watch her as she finishes closing up one of the saddlebags. That fire fills her eyes, the same kind she had when I told her to trust Surge back at the bar. A severe look I noticed the first time I saw her, driving past her car that day.