26. Logan

26

LOGAN

"Wanna go for a ride?" I ask.

It's late in the evening when I've come home to find Teysha in the kitchen. She's doing what she's often doing—she's whipping up some home-cooked meal so it'll be ready by the time I make it home.

Her cooking's some of the best I've ever had. It's damn sure better than what I used to scarf down before she came into my life. I survived on a diet of frozen pizzas and bologna sandwiches. The fanciest I ever got was whipping up some pasta. The box stuff you grab off the shelves at the store.

Compare that to Teysha's borderline chef-level dishes she puts together that feel straight out of some gourmet restaurant.

I'm grateful for the effort she makes. But it also makes me question if she feels like it's something she has to do for me. Second-guessing I've done plenty of times before.

Our relationship— our entire marriage —began off a forced encounter. Though she insists she wants me, sometimes it's difficult to wrap my head around the fact that she does. That she really wants to be with a man like me.

Some renegade who's devoted his life to bikes and lawlessness. Some guy who couldn't be less marriage material if he tried.

I shake these thoughts off as I enter the apartment and she beams at me from the stove.

"A ride?" she asks, stirring the pot that's on the burner in front of her. "What do you mean?"

"A ride around the area."

"On your bike?"

"Who else's?" I answer, grinning back at her. "Damn sure ain't letting you ride on Ozzie's. You're my old lady."

She blushes—her brown complexion makes it hard to tell, but I know the look. I can read it on her. Her skin's warming up, more golden and radiant if possible.

We head out with dinner still waiting in the kitchen. We'll only be gone an hour, and I argue it'll be better before a heavy meal.

Teysha's face lights up in surprise when she sees what's sitting on the backseat of my Super Glide. "You got me a helmet?"

"One fitted for you," I answer with a nod. "It won't be so heavy for your neck."

Teysha's a lot more comfortable the second time on my bike. I check on her before we set off to her eager squeeze of my midsection.

I don't take her far. Just a few miles outside of Pulsboro.

Our ride's not about going far or fast. It's about taking her out for some alone time between us. Something we get at the apartment, but she needs fresh air. She needs to get out more. Being cooped up in the apartment almost all day isn't good for her .

I've started encouraging her to be more involved at the club. The other old ladies, Sydney and Korine in particular, have happily taken her under their wing.

But I still worry about her. She's still not sleeping as well as she should. If I leave the room, she wakes in a panic.

Maybe if I weren't so fucked up myself, I'd know how to help her. I could do something other than what I'm doing, fixating on destroying Abraham and the Chosen Saints.

It's a situation of the blind leading the blind.

For a second time this evening, I force aside these destructive thoughts. These thoughts that have driven me to push Teysha away in the past. I divert my attention to the present.

As dusk hits, the sky explodes in hues of gold. The heat cools a couple degrees. Insects that go into hiding during daylight hours start coming alive again, buzzing and clicking their wings.

I pull off the road to a patch of land that hasn't been claimed in years. Maybe decades.

Teysha's glancing around with a curious knit of her brows as I grab her hand and lead her across the tall, uncut grass.

"What are we… beer ?"

She comes to a halt even as I try to pull her along. She's spotted the beer cans lined up on the top of a wooden fence. I let go of her hand and lift up the hem of my V-neck shirt. A sharp gasp leaves her as she takes a step back.

"Logan, why are you showing me your gun?"

"You know I carry."

Her throat works in a slow swallow. "Yes… but… why are you…"

"I'm going to teach you how to shoot. You need to learn," I explain, gesturing to the beer cans. "I want you to start carrying."

"Me? Carry a gun?!"

"Plenty of women do. It's for protection."

"Against what?"

The expression that curls onto her face is so perplexed, it's like she's questioning my sanity. I step toward her and cup her by the elbows.

"You know what," I say. "Against him. If anyone tries to take you and I'm not around."

"I couldn't ever shoot him… or anyone."

I hate that I believe her. I can peer into her wide, expressive eyes and see she couldn't bring herself to do something like that. It's not in her nature.

But I need her to be prepared. We don't know what Abraham has up his sleeve, including his alliance with the Barreras. I can't be around every minute of every hour. I'd rather she have the ability to do something should the worst case scenario arise…

"Listen to me, baby. You don't like violence. You don't believe in it. I get it. I respect it. Not everybody does. But when it comes to survival, sometimes you've got to protect yourself. Just let me teach you, alright?"

"It'll only be the beer cans?"

"Only the beer cans. Nobody's around for miles. I'll be here making sure nothing goes wrong."

We spend a few minutes going over the Glock 48 I've selected just for her. It fits her hands and she's able to grip it properly. I brief her about the different parts of the Glock and the basics of handling one.

Teysha's attentive, if not palpably nervous with the occasional shake she gives. But she tries… she presses on even as it's clear she's uncertain about the lesson. I stand be hind her and guide her hands around the grip, making sure her trigger finger's positioned where it needs to be.

"Now, you want to line up the front sight in clear focus," I explain, my hands still covering hers. "You want your breathing to be steady. Take a breath, exhale, hold, shoot, then repeat. There's gonna be some recoil. Keep your elbows slightly loose, your wrists locked. Ready?"

"I… I think so."

"I'm right here," I rasp into her ear, so close I can smell flowers. I'd let it distract me if it were any other situation. Instead, I lower my hands from hers but remain where I am. Close enough for support if she needs it. "Go ahead. Make sure you're in position and your front sight is good. Make sure your breathing's steady. Make sure you're ready. Then pull the trigger."

Teysha replicates what I've advised… or does her best to.

The Glock 48 sits in the palm of her hands, her arms straight out, her posture tense. She lets out a soft breath, taking seconds in between. After the slight pause, she goes for it. She pulls the trigger, aiming for the line of beer cans.

None of them budge an inch.

Her shot's gone astray, the bullet whizzing into the distance.

"It's okay," I reassure right away. "It takes practice. That's what this evening's for. Let's correct some of your technique."

My hands fall to her hips to draw them back, then I reposition the Glock in her hands. It's sitting too high against her palm and needs to be more secure within her grip. I remind her about using her front sight before telling her to try again when she's ready .

"You got this, baby. Just remember to brace for the recoil."

Teysha shudders out another breath, gathering up more nerve, and then she pulls the trigger a second time. The bang rings out across the barren land, missing the beer cans by a couple inches.

"Better. That's all that matters. Improvement."

We work on it.

By her fifth shot, I've got her technique markedly better. I've got her wrist holding straight when the recoil kicks in, though her breathing still needs work. The bullet chinks the side of the farthest beer can, nudging it enough that it wobbles like a bowling pin.

"Good," I say. "That's good. Your aim is almost there. Let's see you do it again."

For the next hour, we practice shooting at the row of cans. The first time she hits one, her mouth drops open in shocked delight. She glances over her shoulder at me with twinkling eyes, like she's checking if I just saw what happened.

I can't help disguising my chuckle with a scrub of my jaw.

I'm not sure how it's possible this woman found a way to be even more damn adorable than she already is, but she's done it. The first beer can with a bullet hole starts a pattern of others. After a couple more shots, half the beer cans are knocked off the ledge. They fall to the grass, shriveled up hunks of aluminum.

Teysha flings her arms around me as soon as we're done. Her body collides with mine and forces me half a step back as I catch her.

Our mouths lock in a kiss born of celebration. I hold her up as she clings to me, wrapping those silky, shapely legs of hers around my waist. We trade smiles in between small kisses, parting long enough to tease each other in the lead up to the next time our lips meet. Each time they do, the passion grows.

The heat rises as I suck on her bottom lip and she cards her fingers through my hair.

We're forgetting about our surroundings. The deserted field we're in slips away. The beer cans littering the dry grass are no more. Neither is the rest of the world as the sun fades and twilight scatters across the sky.

I grip her by the thighs, her ankles crisscrossed at my back, and I walk us toward the nearest pillar we have—the wooden fence we've used as a prop for the beer cans. I set her down on the top beam that happens to stop at my waist, just as our kisses pick up steam.

She's clutching at the tuft of hair on my nape, her soft lips so damn delicious against mine. I'm barely containing myself, wedged between her parted thighs. My hands begin wandering as soon as she's perched on the top beam.

Taking all the time in the world to enjoy her curves.

Her hips and thighs. Her breasts and stomach. Her ass as I palm the round shape of it, sliding my hand down the back of her denim jeans.

She gasps into my mouth at the feel of my rough touch. Our tongues tangle, our kisses fueled by passion.

There's no stopping once we get going. Once we're so damn turned on we've got to have each other right here and now.

I help slide Teysha's jean shorts down her legs and she pulls out my dick. We're like addicts fiending for another hit in the second leading up to it—the moment I slide myself inside her pussy and we both groan at how incredible it feels .

I'm surrounded by heat. Slicked in her juices. Clenched by walls that pulse and stretch to accommodate me.

"Damn, baby," I grunt, my hand on her tailbone. "Tell me you want it. Tell me how it feels."

"So good," she breathes, kissing my lips. "I'm so full, Logan. You're so big."

"I know, baby. But you can take it, can't you? You can handle it, right?"

Her brows knit as I draw back then sink back in. She's closed her eyes, every emotion playing across her beautiful face in real time. I watch her closely, stroking into her, kissing her lips, cussing at how fucking good it is.

The moment runs away from us. We're enveloped by the pleasure.

The heat that burns through us. The tingling wave that strikes us down.

All the ways we make each other feel as our bodies lead us and we lose the air in our lungs.

We come so hard, we damn near see shooting stars in the sky. They twinkle before our eyes as I slip deep inside her pussy and she squeezes her thighs around my waist. Our lips crash together amid our heavy pants and we hold onto each other like we're the only thing keeping us grounded to the earth.

We're the only ones living in this intimate moment. No one else knows. No one else bore witness but us.

It's only the beginning to the rest of our night.

We return to the apartment more charged than when we started in the field. We rip off our clothes all over again, with me hoisting Teysha back up into my arms and her clawing at my chest.

In a flash, we're on the bed, bodies slick and limbs tangled. I'm kissing every patch of naked skin within reach, squeezing every curve I can. She writhes under me, so unbelievably sexy, moaning my name a thousand times as I make her come.

I make her whole body seize up, my cock buried deep and my fist in her hair.

Teysha learns yet again the possibilities are limitless—I can satisfy her in so many different ways. So long as we're together, I always will.

"Yes, baby, squeeze my cock," I growl, my thrusts hitting all new angles. We're folded up in another position, her legs thrown over my shoulders. "Squeeze that tight little pussy around my big cock."

Her cries of pleasure become a song that bounces off the walls. She tips her head back, her mouth agape as her orgasm washes over her. I come in close, silencing her cries with a hard kiss, stroking harder and faster as I'm right behind her.

Mine is even more satisfying knowing I've already pleasured her. I've earned my release, planting myself deep, groaning at the soft, hot pussy I spill into.

We're so damn drunk in the aftermath that we can't stop smiling. We can't keep our hands off each other as we lay tangled together, soaking up the post-orgasm high.

But only one thing's on my hazy mind—how unbelievably lucky I am in this moment.

It weighs on me how undeserving I still feel that Teysha wants this; she wants to be with me.

After everything that's happened and all that we've been through, she's chosen to be my wife. She's chosen me as her husband. It didn't start out that way, but what was once forced has become something else altogether.

It's grown into something that's real and deep.

Something I don't think I can ever let go of .

I stroke her cheek and she smiles at me—the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The dark threads that are her hair spill across my pillowcase, her brown skin radiant and dewy from what we've just finished doing. The rest of her is wrapped up in my bedsheet, the cotton fabric molded to her curves.

This could be the rest of my life. Every morning and night like this, with this woman I don't deserve in my bed.

The question is, can I let myself experience something so good? Can I stop being the miserable, angry asshole long enough to give her what she needs?

"Logan," Teysha murmurs almost sleepily. Her eyes twinkle looking up at me. "Why are you staring like that?"

"Nothing," I answer. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"The future."

The twinkle in her eye brightens even more. "Us?"

"Yeah. Us. I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

I lean forward and kiss her brow, stroking her cheek then pulling her closer. It's not long before we slip off to sleep and I'm left dreaming about the same things.

Us.

And our future together.

"We're on high alert," Silver says the next morning in the club office. He's called the rest of us higher ranking members in for a meeting. Folding his arms across his chest, he leans back against the edge of the desk, his expression solemn. "Last night, Tito saw some guys in a Camaro a block down from the saloon, watching us. "

"Probably plotting their next move," Cash says.

Mace nods from where he stands beside his best friend. "The question is, what would that be?"

"Likely revenge, hermano ," answers Tito. "They're out for blood."

"Ozzie and I did what we had to do," I say unapologetically. My scowl matches my tone. "They had Teysha, and they weren't gonna give her back."

"We understand why you did what you did, Ghost," says Silver. "You did what any of us would've done for one of our own. Let alone your wife. But we know what it means."

"Retaliation," pipes up Ozzie.

Silver releases a sigh, then stands up straighter. "That's right. We need to be prepared for anything they might pull."

"But I don't understand," Tito says, "why would they be working with the cult you were taken by, Ghost?"

I take my time providing an answer. I'm thinking on what I know about the cartel and the pieces of shit who took me and Teysha captive. After suffering at their hands for years, the reason doesn't even matter. Revenge is the only thing on the menu.

"Simple," I answer finally. "Money. The Barreras are in the flesh trade. The Chosen Saints needed flesh."

"The Barreras weren't in the area when you had your accident. It was Madrigal."

"Who says they're not one and the same? What do we know about Miguel Barrera and his background?"

My question leads to a beat of silence among the others. Mace and Cash exchange looks while Tito's brow creases in thought. Silver remains where he is, studying me under his dark gaze; the sunlight that pours in from the window makes his shock of whitish gray hair stand out even more than usual.

"We'll get to the bottom of it," he replies finally. "But 'til then, high alert."

"Then no use for the parties we're throwing. Not when we've got real shit going down," Mace says.

Cash raises a brow, his face relaxing in humor. "Your bachelor party? We're not letting you off that easily."

"Cash is right. We're getting you shitfaced by the end of the night. And remaining on high alert. We can multitask."

The others laugh at Ozzie's comment, even Mace. The moment changes from the severe edge it's held to something lighter, more like solidarity. We've established we'll fight the threat the Chosen Saints and the Barreras pose, and we'll come out on top like we always do.

We'll find a way to make it happen.

The meeting ends with us going our separate ways. Cash and Ozzie return to the Chop Shop. Silver announces he's got to go pick up his kids; it's his weekend for custody. Tito leaves a few steps behind him with a similar obligation—his missus demands he go to some family function with her.

The next thing I know, it's me and Mace on the barroom floor. For being brothers, the two of us haven't spent much time alone since I've returned. I stop him halfway across the bar, clamping my hand down on his shoulder.

"They had a point. You know that, right?"

"About what? The Barreras and Madrigal being connected to the Saints?"

The left side of my mouth cants upward. "About your bachelor party. We're throwing you one."

"We never threw you one. "

"That's 'cuz I got married under different circumstances. But you… we're gonna make that night a damn good night."

"How? Invite the Tits on Heels? I've got Syd for that."

I rasp out a laugh. "You're really in love, ain't you?"

"Why're you asking?"

"'Cuz I know my baby brother. And he's fucked his share of club girls."

"So have you."

"Point is," I go on, "you're committed. You've got eyes for nobody else."

"You don't see how the same applies, do you?"

I'd be lying if I said a flicker of shock doesn't strike me. My own words easily being used against me. I scrub my hand to my jaw, the realization trickling in. Every accusation—as joking as I was—applies to myself.

No other woman holds my attention like Teysha does. No other woman's on my mind.

I can't even imagine anybody else. There's nobody else that comes close.

Mace's grin spreads slowly. His laugh sounds like mine only seconds ago. "It's a mindfuck, right? When you first realize you've got 'em? Those things called feelings."

"I'm not… I don't… I ain't ever…"

"Yeah, yeah. I said the same thing. Look at me now. About to get married. And I want to." Mace throws a fist at my arm, the jab a brotherly tap more than anything. "It might as well be our bachelor party."

I don't get the chance to answer him. Natural light pours in by way of the saloon doors opening. We both glance over at the same time to find we've got company. Two of the dressiest people to ever enter our territory—a man and a woman in tailored slacks and crisp white shirts. They walk through like they're aware of what they're getting themselves into.

They've been plotting this visit for a while.

The man's a couple inches under six feet with hair spiky and gelled. The woman's a dark brown complexion with huge sunglasses blocking her eyes from view. Both look like official business. More like they belong in some fucking office somewhere.

I jut my chin at them. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, we're here to collect some pertinent information," answers the woman. She flashes a badge at us. "Zoe Strauss. This is my partner, Eduardo Rodriguez. FBI."