Hopelessly Devoted (Bayou Devils MC Book 1)

by A. M. Myers

  What is that doing here?

  Logan crashes into me and grabs my arms to keep me from falling. “Jesus, Ali. What are you doing?”

  My eyes stay rooted to the mat in front of the door where the necklace that I’ve been looking for these past two weeks sits. Logan comes to my side and follows my gaze before looking back to me.

  “What is it, Kitten?”

  I open my mouth only to close it again as I look up at him. He runs his thumb down my cheek, and I suck in a breath. “It’s my necklace. I haven’t been able to find it since the break-in.”

  He turns back to the necklace laid out perfectly in front of the door, clenching his jaw as he pulls me closer. “Inside.”

  He grabs my keys out of my bag and opens the door before ushering me inside and leaving me in the foyer as he stomps down the hallway to the kitchen. When he comes back, he’s got a Ziploc bag in his hand. He turns it inside out and uses it to pick up the necklace. Once it’s safely inside, he zips it up and slams the door before turning to me. The bag is set down on the entry table as he reaches for me and pulls me into him.

  He buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in. “You okay?”

  “No,” I answer, shaking my head. I don’t even want to think about it right now. I just want to go back to five minutes ago when we were smiling and teasing each other. The fact that he was in my house and he took my things is something that I don’t want to deal with at the moment.

  “Go pack a bag. We’re going to go stay at the clubhouse.” He turns away from me like he expects me to just do as he says but I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to turn around again.

  “No,” I say when he does, and his eyebrows shoot up.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” I unfold my arms and walk off, down the hallway and I can hear him stomping behind me.

  “Ali, this isn’t a goddamn joke. I need to keep you safe.”

  Stopping in the kitchen, I spin around, and he almost runs into me. “Then call the cops but I’m not leaving my home.”

  He growls and pulls me into his arms, pulling me tight against his body. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

  “I am, that’s why I want you to call Detective Rodriguez.”

  He lets me go and walks over to the island, bracing his hands on it as he drops his head and takes a deep breath. “The man has told you that he’s going to kidnap you and still you fight me on this. You’ll be safe at the clubhouse, Baby. I need you to be safe.”

  “I’ll be safe here. You’re with me.”

  “No,” he barks.

  “Yes,” I fire back. He’s not making me leave my home.

  “I swear to God, Woman. I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here if I have to,” he says, his eyes snapping open, and just from the determination in his gaze, I know he’s telling the truth.

  Arching a brow, I meet his intense stare, not backing down. “And what? You’ll just kidnap me like he intends to?”

  “That’s not fair,” he growls.

  “I’m not letting him take my home from me, Logan. I won’t do it.”

  Dropping his head, he closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. He tilts his head and opens one eye as he holds his hand out for me. I go to him without hesitation, and he wraps his arms around my waist. “I hate this.”

  “I know,” I whisper, running my hand down his cheek, and he leans into me. “But I don’t want to go hide out at the clubhouse. This is my home, and he’s already taken so much from me.”

  He leans down and claims my lips, pulling me into him tighter before pressing his forehead to mine and sighing. “I’m going to have a heart attack by the time I reach forty, and it’s going to be your fault.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me,” I assure him, my heart beating a little faster with the knowledge that he’s thinking long term. I’m ready to fight like hell for this, and I just hope that he is, too.

  * * * *

  I wave at Mercedes with my free hand as I pass her office, and she glances up from the papers in front of her, grinning as she waves back at me. Writers pop in and out of offices, the gentle buzz of conversation filling the conference area, and I let out a breath, relieved to be back here as I slip into my office. Setting my bag down on the couch next to one of today’s boxes of letters, I wonder why we don’t just use email as I slip behind my desk and sink into my chair. The coffee warms my throat as I take a sip and lean back in my chair, sighing again. Work and normalcy – it’s exactly what I need after this weekend.

  Logan spent the rest of Friday night trying to convince me to go to the clubhouse with him, and when that didn’t work, he tried to use his mouth to persuade me. I’m holding firm though. I refuse to let Chris, whoever he is, push me out of my home and control my life. I don’t care how scared I am, that is not happening. By Saturday afternoon, Logan had given up on the clubhouse altogether but he refused to let me out of his sight for even a moment the rest of the weekend – even following me into the shower. He tried to play it off as sexy and fun, but I know better. This whole situation is really hard for him, and I need to try to be more understanding.

  I can’t even imagine what he’s going through, and I wish he would open up more about his girlfriend. Maybe if I knew how she died, I would understand why he’s freaking out so badly right now. Then again, maybe it’s just the fact that he lost her that’s making him act like this now. Maybe even the possibility of something happening to me brings up everything he went through when she died. I wish he could just relax a little though.

  We haven’t heard from Chris since the necklace showed up on Friday night, and there haven’t been any more presents left on the porch. I want to know what it means. Why would he steal the necklace only to leave it there for me to find? A part of me hopes that he’s just washing his hands of this and that he’ll leave me alone but all I have to do is think about the last letter he sent to know that isn’t true. It’s too hard to wrap my brain around though. The entire situation sounds like the plot of a movie, and it doesn’t feel real. The thing that scares me the most is that I don’t know what the best course of action is. If I knew the best way to go, the best way to handle this whole situation, we could make a plan, and it would put my mind at ease, but right now, we’re kind of stumbling along in the dark.

  My phone rings on the desk, and I roll my eyes at Logan’s picture as I pick it up and answer it. “Yes, Logan. I made it safe, and I’m perfectly fine.”

  He made me promise to call him the moment I walked in the door so he knew I was safe, and I feel a little bad that I forgot. Although, in my defense, he really does need to relax or that heart attack he joked about will be real.

  “Come home,” he says, his voice cracking, and I shoot up in my chair, setting the coffee down on the table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He sighs, and I hear something crash on the other end. My heart rate spikes, and I hold my breath as I wait for his reply. “I need you to come home. He fucking trashed my house.”

  “Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, dropping my head down into my hands. This is all my fault. If he weren’t with me, this never would have happened to him. “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t give a shit about the house, Kitten. I care about you, so please come home.”

  Sighing, I look up as Mercedes walks in and points to the chair across from me. I nod, and she sits down, pulling out her phone as she waits for me to finish the call. “Logan, I can’t just keep leaving my job because you’re freaking out about this.”

  “What has to happen for you to understand how much danger you’re in?” he shouts through the phone, and I can imagine him running his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “What’s going on?” Mercedes whispers, and I pull the phone away from my ear and quickly explain everything that I know. When I finish, her eyes are wide. She stares at me for a moment before looking back down at her phone as she starts typing a
way.

  “Ali?” Logan barks into the phone, and I jump in my seat.

  “What?”

  “Come home.” It’s clear that he’s not asking me this time, and I sigh.

  “Let me talk to Mercedes, and I’ll text you.”

  He grumbles something on the other end of the line and sighs. “Fine. But if you haven’t texted me in five minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

  “Grumpy ass man,” I mumble as I hang up the phone and look up at Mercedes. She’s chewing on her bottom lip as she reads something on her phone, not paying any attention to me.

  “What are you doing over there?” I ask her, and her head pops up.

  “I texted the lawyers and asked them what we could do but it’s not looking good. Do you know his name?”

  I shake my head. “Just Chris but there is no guarantee that it’s his real name.”

  “Shit. Without his name, we can’t even get a restraining order. I’ll look into beefing up security here but you should go be with Logan today. Just take your laptop with you, and I’ll have the letters delivered.”

  My world is spinning, and I feel like I can’t even grab onto anything to keep me from falling into the abyss of this insanity. “Mercedes, I can’t just go running back home every time something happens. I need to work. You didn’t hire me to never be here.”

  “Uh, one,” she snaps, her voice taking on a bit of an attitude, “you can work from anywhere, and two, you won’t be doing anything if this psycho kidnaps you or worse.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

  “You think I’m kidding?” she asks, leveling a glare at me. “Maybe when you’re done writing your column, you should do some research on stalkers. I’ve been reading up since this whole thing started. This is serious, Ali, and I’m sure your man would appreciate it if you started being more careful. Now, go home.”

  Without another word, she stands and marches out of my office as I gape at her. Her words sunk in though, and I turn to my computer to do some research on stalkers when I remember that I promised to text Logan. My fingers shaking, I grab the phone and fire off a text to him.

  Me:

  Leaving now.

  Logan:

  I’ll be here.

  Logan:

  Please be careful, Kitten.

  My heart breaks reading his message, and as I pack up my things, I promise to be more considerate of what he’s going through right now. Just as I’m about to step out of my office, a large man fills the doorway, and I gasp, slapping my hand over my heart as I take a step back.

  He holds his hands up in front of him. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m the new intern. Mercedes sent me to carry a box out to your car for you.”

  Sucking in a breath, I nod. “It’s okay. You just startled me,” I tell him, peeking around his wide body as Mercedes stops outside the door and grins at me.

  “Lance, here, is going to help you carry the letters out to your car, Ali,” she says, a triumphant look flashing across her face. Of course she had to go find the biggest man in the office. He’s got to be well over six feet tall, and he’s as wide as a linebacker with a shiny, bald head and white smile. His polo shirt is stretched so far around his massive arms that it looks like it’s going to burst at any moment.

  “It’s that box there,” I instruct, pointing to the box on the couch, and when he steps into the office to grab it, I glance over at Mercedes and roll my eyes. She practically skips back to her office as Lance follows me out of my office.

  He’s quiet as we step out of the building and walk down the sidewalk to the parking garage. Even with him next to me, I start to feel like someone is watching me, and I pick up my pace, ready to get away from here and back to Logan all of a sudden. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to run the rest of the way to my car.

  By the time we reach my car, my nerves are shot. I’m shaking, and my breath is choppy as Lance puts the box on the floor of the passenger seat and comes back around to stand in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I say, my eyes darting all over the garage floor like danger might jump out at any second. He smiles and nods.

  “No problem. Do you need anything else?”

  I shake my head, and he tells me to have a good day before turning and walking back out of the garage. As soon as he’s out of sight, I climb into the car and lock it twice before grabbing the wheel and trying to force air into my lungs. No matter what I do though, it doesn’t help, and I know there’s only one thing that will make me feel better right now.

  Logan.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alison

  Tentatively, I walk up the sidewalk to Logan’s front porch, eyeing the open door before glancing around me. “Logan?”

  As soon as I got home, I ran into the house to find him but he wasn’t there. His bike is in the driveway, and his truck is parked along the street so he’s got to be here. Glass crunches under my feet as I step inside the front door, and tears sting my eyes at the sight before me. Logan is on his knees in the middle of the living room, picking up broken picture frames and tossing them back into a box. There are large holes in the drywall above his couch like someone took a sledge hammer to the wall, and his leather couch has a huge rip right down the center like whoever broke in here tried to cut it in half. My gaze travels up, and I gasp at the message written on the wall in blood red paint.

  SHE IS MINE.

  “Ali,” Logan growls, jumping to his feet and stomping over to me, not even noticing the photos that he’s stepping on. He yanks me into his chest and hugs me hard, his large arms binding around me like a vise as he kisses my forehead and lets out a breath.

  “Logan,” I gasp, tears threatening to fall as I look at all the damage I’ve caused in his life. All of this – his house and the emotional toll this is taking on him – is all my fault and I can’t help but wonder if he would be better off without me. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Look at me,” he says, pulling back, and I peek up at him, the guilt mounting inside me and making me feel two feet tall. “I don’t care about this house, Ali. It’s just a house. The most important thing is that you’re safe.”

  He doesn’t wait for my reply before pulling me back into him. I shuffle and my foot hits something on the floor. Glancing down, I pull away from him and grab the photo off the floor, brushing the glass off it. When I look up at him again, his gaze is firmly on me.

  “Is this her?” I ask, wondering if I should really broach this topic with him right now but he doesn’t seem bothered as he nods.

  “Yeah. That’s Sophia.”

  I glance down at the photo again, a small smile forming as I see how happy he looked in this photo, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when we get to that place. He’s been around more lately, and he hasn’t run again, but I still don’t know what he wants from me. I guess I just preferred to live in the moment instead of questioning his motives.

  “You look happy.”

  He clears his throat. “We were.”

  Sucking in a breath, I pluck up my courage and meet his eyes. “What happened to her?”

  “I already told you, she died.”

  I nod, offering him a comforting look. “I know but I was just wondering how she died…”

  He studies me for a long moment, indecision filling his gaze. Oh, God, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. I have no idea what the protocol is here. Am I supposed to ask about her or just leave it alone? Finally, he drops his head and releases a breath. “She was murdered.”

  I gasp and stare up at him but he refuses to meet my gaze, and after a few moments, I give up, handing him the photo. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He takes the photo and clears his throat again, looking over at the box in the corner. “It’s okay. To be honest, it’s probably well past time that I get rid of this stuff.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s holding me hostage. All of it – this house, t
he photos, the damn truck outside.”

  I reach for him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into me. This is one time that he needs my comfort, and I’m damn sure going to be there for him. “How do you mean?”

  “It was all for her. I bought this house for her, and I fixed up that truck for her. I took the pictures off the wall but they’ve been sitting in that box in the corner for years, and it’s all keeping me from moving on.”

  He turns to throw the picture in the box, and I grab his hand. “Stop. You loved her. You can acknowledge that you loved her and move on with your life. You don’t need to hide her photos in a box because she’ll always have a piece of your heart and that’s okay.”

  He turns his gaze back on me, something new and different in his eyes as he pulls me into his body and claims my lips in a kiss that has me clinging to him. When he pulls away, he runs the tip of his nose up mine, and it’s so sweet and tender that I lose another piece of my heart to him in this moment.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, guiding me outside as he pulls the door closed behind him. I wait for him to lock up, and then he laces his fingers with mine as we walk back to my house. With each step we take, my guilt grows as I think about all he’s been through in the last month because of me. How can I do this to him? If everything that Mercedes, Carly, and Logan have been telling me are true, this will get worse before it gets better. What kind of person does it make me to drag him along with me?

  “Kitten,” he says softly, getting my attention as he opens my front door, and I look up at him. His gaze flicks over my face for a moment, studying me before he reaches up and grazes my cheek with his thumb. “What’s going on in your head?”

  I shake my head and whisper, “Nothing.”

  As I step into the house and kick my heels off, I can feel his eyes on me, boring into me like he’s trying to tear me apart piece by piece until he finds the answers he’s looking for. Bending down, I grab my shoes and walk down the hallway, resisting the urge to peek over my shoulder at him, but no matter how far I get from him, I can still feel his gaze. The front door shuts, and the lock clinks into place before I hear his boots stomping against the hardwood floors as he comes after me.