39. Logan

39

LOGAN

"Mandy's dead."

Silver makes the announcement like he's announcing scores from a sports game.

I'm in the back office with Mace and Cash, shooting the shit. We're making the most of our last chance to give Mace hell about tying himself down.

"No more club girls," I remind. "You're about to have the old ball and chain attached."

He gives me a dubious look. "You mean like you do? You're the married man around these parts or have you forgotten?"

"He's got you there," Cash says.

"You don't need to be talking either. You might as well be married the way you and Kori are shacking up. You two live and work together."

Cash can't keep his signature Hollywood actor smile from inching onto his face. "What can I say? She's my best friend. It's been that way since we were six."

Mace scoffs. "Funny, 'cuz I thought I was your best friend."

"You are… except she's a lot prettier than you. So she automatically wins."

We're cracking up in laughter when Silver enters and makes his announcement.

Mandy's dead.

I lose my sense of humor that fast. Standing up from where I'm reclined on the suede couch, I jut my chin at him. "You joking, or you serious?"

"There are three things I don't joke about, Ghost. Money, divorce, and death." Silver scrubs two fingers against his brow like a terrible migraine's paining him. "I went down there to feed her her daily gruel and found her slumped in the chair. Her face and neck were as swollen as a balloon with too much air. Some kind of allergic reaction."

"Allergic reaction?" I repeat.

"The stranger thing was there was a tray of cookies nearby. Burnt ones."

"Peanut butter cookies?" Cash asks.

The three of us all question him with a mere glance. He gives a shrug.

"I overheard Sydney and Kori talking about it earlier. Sydney had baked them to surprise you, Mace. She said they're your favorite."

"You're saying Syd poisoned Mandy?" Mace asks in return, skepticism thick in his voice. "Don't get me wrong. She hates Mandy's fucking guts. But that's 'cuz she's a Steel Queen and she's all in on our club. Our enemies are her enemies. But poisoning Mandy? Not her thing."

"Mandy was allergic to peanuts," I say slowly, searching my memory. "I've overheard it before. Back when I was… you know. One of the captives was once beaten for trying to feed her peanut butter. "

Only one other person affiliated with the MC would know that.

I have to contain my real reaction. I let the others speculate for a couple minutes while I'm dragging a hand across my jaw, resisting the pull my mouth gives to grin.

My sweet and innocent little wife ain't as sweet and innocent as she'd have me believe.

It's exactly the type of nonviolent crime she could justify. She could rationalize feeding someone and wiping her hands of the situation if they have some kind of reaction. It's not like she poisoned the cookies herself.

Matter of fact, knowing my baby, she probably rationalized it as feeding a hungry woman.

Charity work in the Lord's name.

In reality, she was eliminating Mandy. She was seeking revenge for me like I'd done for her.

I give up on my poker face and grin to myself.

"I'm guessing you're happy she's gone?" Silver asks, interrupting my inner monologue.

"Hmm? Yeah," I answer, clearing my throat. My grin widens. "Good fucking riddance to that disgusting bitch."

Over the coming days, things stay hectic. Between the wedding prep, concealing our illegal club business, and dealing with the aftermath of what happened with the Chosen Saints, we've got our hands full.

The FBI continues their intense investigation. They pull several of us in for questioning, asking things like why we were present at the church in Boulder at the time of Abraham's death and how we have ties to the Barreras.

We pay the cartel back for their treachery and part in the flesh trade by sending the feds sniffing their way. I was misleading in what I told Miguel about what the FBI knew, which means it's the fucking shock of a lifetime when their clubhouse Zapote is raided and they're caught in the middle of a massive drug deal.

Satisfying revenge for selling human beings, including Teysha.

Elsewhere, Silver's at the helm making sure our own tracks are covered. Our stories match. All potential evidence is destroyed.

When I'm brought in for questioning, I give the truth—or the sanitized version that leaves out the info that works against the Steel Kings.

I tell them about how the Chosen Saints took dozens captive and held us against our will. I tell them all about Abraham and what a sick, twisted piece of shit he was. How I'd killed him in self-defense to keep me and Teysha alive.

Then I glared up into the scrutinous stares of Agents Strauss and Rodriguez and dared them to arrest me.

Strauss sighed, her mouth bent at a downturn. She shared a look of disappointment with Rodriguez, then waved a hand at the door.

"You're free to go, Mr. Cutler. If we have any further questions, we'll be in contact."

I ran into Ozzie in the hall outside, waiting on his turn to be interrogated. He grinned at me and said, "So how much of a hard ass is she really?"

But as soon as I walked out of the local police station the FBI was working out of, I was wiping my hands of the situation.

Abraham and the Chosen Saints had stolen enough time from me. I had given up years being held captive, mentally enslaved, physically broken in every way, and now all I wanted to do was live my life.

Love the woman I had pledged the rest of it to.

Just a few weeks ago, I would've considered a prospect like that to be laughable. I wasn't the type of man to get married and I damn sure wasn't the kind who wanted to be some family man. Some husband and father who lived that traditional style of life.

I followed in Dad's footsteps and became a Steel King for the exact opposite reason.

Women were supposed to be guests who came and went in my bed. Easily disposable and forgettable by the time the sun rose.

I wasn't supposed to fall for a woman that changed my whole perspective.

When I was ready to live a life full of rage and self-loathing, she showed me optimism was possible. Hope was within reach.

All I had to do was open myself up to it. All I had to do was give it a real chance.

Give our marriage that chance.

As it turns out, it's been the smartest thing I've ever done. Being with Teysha has shown me that things don't always have to be so damn dark and brooding. There's bright spots to life too, like the kind of love that exists between a man and his woman.

I just have to be the man she truly deserves. Something I've promised I'll work at everyday ‘til I'm six feet under.

I come home to her curled up on the couch with another one of those books she loves so much. Not the Bible—though she loves that too—but one of those word porn books.

Pantless .

She knows exactly what the fuck she's doing.

I crack a grin and drop down over her 'til my body's covered hers and my lips do the same. It takes no more than five minutes for us to wind up with our clothes on the floor and her bent over the couch, my cock buried deep in her pussy.

It's the kind of marital bliss you can only hope for but that's our reality.

When the day of the wedding arrives, we're lazy in bed, legs entangled in the sheets, snuggling close like she likes—and I do too.

We arrive at the pasture on the outskirts of town where it's being held, in a calm and joyous mood. Teysha keeps tugging at the collar of my button up shirt, and I keep squeezing her hip, unable to stop touching her.

The others arrive in twos and threes. Some men with their old ladies. Others solo, proudly donning their club vests over slightly more formal shirts. Teysha smiles at Ozzie's flannel he's got on under his leather vest.

"That's an interesting fashion choice."

"This? Oh… yeah. Best I can do." His tone lacks his usual humor, and his gaze grows distant, like he's searching the attendees for someone that's not around.

"You alright?" I ask.

"Yeah… you know, same shit. Different day."

"Where's Hope?" Teysha poses the question to be cheerful. To uplift his mood.

Instead, she accidentally makes it worse. Ozzie stops scouring the crowd and returns his eyes to us, like he's just remembered we're in front of him.

"Hope's gone. We, uh, we broke up last night. She says she needs to get outta town and clean up her act. Apparently, all the shit that went down with the Saints was too much. She couldn't handle the craziness. The FBI interrogated her, and she decided she wanted nothing to do with the club… and me."

Teysha gasps, a sympathetic hand touching his arm. "I'm so sorry, Ozzie. I had no idea."

"It's cool. Who needs love anyway when there's always the Titty Bar in town?"

The laugh he gives is hollow, unlike his usual one. He shrugs walking off, headed in the direction of the refreshment table that's been set up.

"What's this I hear about the Titty Bar and love?" Silver asks from behind us.

We turn around to find he's walked up on the tail end of our conversation with Ozzie. Silver being Silver, looks slightly more groomed and dressed up than the rest of us—he's got a real button down shirt on, and he's skipped out on wearing his rocker. With his tattoos covered, he looks more silver fox bachelor than MC acting prez.

"Ozzie and Hope broke up," I say.

He scratches his gray stubble. "So I heard. Looks like only a select few of us have luck in matters of the heart."

"You will too again… someday," Teysha says in hopes she'll do for him what she couldn't for Ozzie.

But Silver only lets a flicker of humor pass in and out on his face. "No need to sell me that fairytale ending. I gave up on that the second my ex turned into a gambling alcoholic. But I'm happy for Mace and Syd. And you two, of course."

We're left alone for the first time since arriving. Teysha being the optimist who's had her sunshine and bright skies ruined by rain, frowns. I pull her toward me for a tender kiss and reassurance.

"They'll be alright," I say, nuzzling my face with hers. "I was them once. Moody and brooding. Now look at me. What the loving of a good woman has done to me."

Her nose wrinkles just like I like. "You sure fought it hard enough."

"That's 'cuz I thought you were too good for me. I still think you're too good for me. Which is why I'm gonna thank God every fucking day that he blessed me with you."

"Logan Cutler, you might not realize it, but I could say the same about you," she says, tears emerging in her eyes. "You saved not just my life… you saved my soul in the darkest moments of my life."

"Shhh, baby. Don't cry." I capture her lips again, holding her heart-shaped face in my strong hands. "Which reminds me… your cross necklace. Finally had a chance to get it fixed."

Teysha's damn near lost her voice as I ease her around and drape the golden cross necklace along her chest where it belongs. I connect the little clasp and then press a kiss to her nape, drawing in a greedy inhale of her.

Her golden cross necklace at last right where it belongs.

Hanging from her neck as her devotion to her faith and never ending optimism.

Some that's rubbed off on me these days…

We're so enamored with each other that we don't realize the wedding's underway 'til everybody around us takes their place. We share small, secret smiles between us as we move to do the same.

An acoustic version of the traditional ceremonial music starts to play.

The wedding's officially begun.