Iron

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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Iron (Ruin Outlaws MC #3)

First edition. June 28, 2014.

Copyright © 2014 Amy Isan.

Written by Amy Isan.

Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill / EDHGraphics

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Title Page

Copyright Page

CHAPTER 1 — LOGAN

CHAPTER 2 — CASSIE

CHAPTER 3 — LOGAN

CHAPTER 4 — CASSIE

CHAPTER 5 — LOGAN

CHAPTER 6 — CASSIE

Also By Amy Isan

About the Author

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S
hit. I can’t believe that fucking just went down. I brace my teeth hard against the biting wind and swerve between lanes, passing honking sedans and SUVs. Speeding will only get the attention of the cops, but I gotta get Cassie off this hog and into my house. She hasn’t spoken a word, damn near hasn’t twitched a muscle, since wrapping her arms around my waist. I really wish she didn’t have to see that, but what else could I have done? Rattlesnake was going to fuck everything up. Not only that, but... do something worse to her.

Fucking hell.

“Logan,” Cassie’s voice is like a whisper over the wind in my ear. I perk up and glance over my shoulder, still keeping a firm grip on the handlebars and I try and keep my eyes on the road, but it’s hard. Streetlights pass over us and create a strobe-like effect, but each time one passes over her face, it looks more and more pale.

“Yeah?”

“Where are we going?”

“My place,” I reply. “It’ll be safe there.”

“Okay.” Her voice is faint and it crushes my heart. I hate feeling like this.

. . .

I reach the east end where my apartment is located. I don’t see any tale-tell light beams that’d be attached to motorcycles lurking in the shadows, and as far as I know, no one knows what happened back at Cassie’s yet. Good. Maybe Rattlesnake was working alone?

I shut off the bike and hop off, before grabbing Cassie and picking her up. She’s light, and feeling her weight reminds me of when she caught me in her bedroom. Then when I pushed her against the wall and her breathy moans filled my ears. Her eyes are closed, and a pained expression is stretched across her face. What have I gotten her into?

Unlocking the door takes some finesse, with her in my arms, but I manage. I hurry to the couch and set her down. After making sure she isn’t going to tumble off, I race back out to the bike and grab the saddlebags. I scan the neighborhood one last time for any suspicious signs that I’m being watched, and hurry back inside. The sun peeks over the horizon, and it feels like the nights are getting shorter every day. Especially recently with all the bullshit going on.

She’s asleep, and I’m relieved beyond imagination. I quietly set the saddlebags down on the counter and pull a beer out of the fridge, being careful to not break the seal too loudly. I swallow the entire bottle as quickly as possible. I dump it in the trash and wipe my face. My stubble is getting longer.

I need Surge.

I watch Cassie’s sleeping face while I try to think of a way out of this mess.

I need his advice. I know the boys told me to keep him out of it, especially Tank, but I can’t abide by that.

I pull another beer out and swig it.

He’s the oldest, and I’m sure this kind of shit went down all the time without me knowing about it. It had to. Shit, if this is the first time he’s dealt with this, then I’m really fucked.

Then I’ll just have to worry about her. I can’t believe I’m even considering it, throwing my life on the line for this woman. A woman I barely know. Someone I can barely trust. Her chest moves gently and she rolls to face the back of the couch. My breath catches in my throat. A woman who literally takes my breath away.

Shit.

I drop the beer bottle in the trash can and it clinks against the last. She doesn’t move. I pull another blanket out of my closet and climb onto the floor. A weak couch cushion should do the trick. I steal it from the spare chair, and plant my head on it. Sleep won’t come easily.

But it will come eventually.

. . .

The afternoon heat wakes me in a sweat. I turn over on my side, confused why I’m on the floor, until I notice Cassie up on the couch. Right. I stand and let the blanket that was barely covering my skin crumple to the floor, and I get dressed. She’ll be fine here. If we were going to be jumped, it would have already happened.

I set the revolver that I hid in her duffel bag on the coffee table. She looks stressed, with pained lines creased on her forehead. I wish she didn’t see what I had to do to protect her.

With that lingering thought on my mind, I turn away and move toward the front window. I slide my finger between the slats to see if anyone is watching. The coast looks clear, nothing but a bunch of punks running around with a soccer ball. With one last wistful glance over my shoulder to Cassie, I wrench open my front door and head out to the curb, where my bike is parked.

The sunlight glints off the chrome as I throw my leg over the beast. The engine turns over without hesitation and I pull away from the sidewalk, twisting the throttle so hard I’m sure to leave a skid mark on the beaten and worn asphalt.

The sooner I see Surge, the faster I can get back to Cassie. Word that Rattlesnake is dead will spread like wildfire, and if I don’t do damage control, it’ll consume us until we’re nothing but ash and dust.

. . .

The parking lot at the hospital is packed, but I’ve always made my own space. After securing my bike, I dash into the lobby. I don’t even bother taking off my cut to hide my affiliation with the crew. The receptionist eyes me, with a strange look in her eye. Not a disgusted look, but a curious one. It’s almost funny, because two weeks ago, I might have coaxed her out of her scrubs and into a nearby empty room for a quick fuck, but right now, all I can think about is getting back to Cassie. I almost want to question what’s wrong with me, but I push the thought away.

When I approach, she looks a little threatened until I ask what room Surge is staying in. She reminds me, and I disappear down the hall. I don’t see anything but gleaming tile and the occasional nurse or doctor. The air is stale and tastes like dust. In Surge’s room, I find him sitting up and drinking a glass of water. I step inside and close the door to the hallway.

“What the hell?” he exclaims, looking over his shoulder at me. He’s only wearing a blue patient gown, and his back is bare and facing me. His face starts to contort into angered surprise, but relaxes when he recognizes me. “Oh, Logan. You scared the shit outta me, scrambling in here like a god damn wasp is after you.”

Now that I’m here, I feel tongue-tied. I can’t just blurt out what happened with the Skeletons, with Cassie, and what I’ve done. I don’t know why. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me. Like, he’s going to punish me. I can’t have that holding me back right now. “We need to talk,” is all I can manage.

He turns and leans back in his bed, without slipping under the covers. He crosses his arms. His face looks worn and beaten, with dark rims circling his eyes. His gown moves a bit as he settles in, and I notice a long scar hiding underneath. “What is it?”

I point at him, and change the subject despite my resolve. “What happened?”

He seems surprised, as if he forgot, then he looks down and sighs heavily. When he looks up at me again, his eyes are a bit brighter. “They found a tumor, and cut it outta me. It wasn’t bad, benign or something they called it. They just ran some tests this morning and I’m clean as a whistle now.” He smiles. “They’ll be discharging me soon.”

Emotion tightens my chest and I wheeze out a breath of relief. “Jesus Christ,” is all I say before I have to sit down. “You’re going to be okay.” A strange feeling overwhelms me, but I choke it back without much effort. I’m not like that.

He coughs and sits up and leans forward over his knees, his tone suddenly sardonic. “Nice for someone to come fuckin’ visit me after leaving me here. You know they make you pee into bed pans here? It’s like the god damn middle ages.”

I laugh and buckle over. When I recover and look at him again he’s smiling. The sunlight through the blinds strikes his face and he suddenly looks a lot younger, like the tumor was something weighing him down all these years. Who knows how long he had it? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I have shit I gotta take care of. Cassie is still at home, wondering God knows what. I shouldn’t have left her before she woke up. I swallow spit and breathe deep.

“Surge, I got bad news.”

He frowns. “What? I hope it’s not about the drug drop.”

I shake my head and lean forward, planting my elbows on my knees. “No, we did that, but it went to shit. Rifle brought the Skeletons along for the ride, and the dealer fucked us on the product.”

Surge’s face turns red and he curses before slamming his fist on the bedside railing. The loud thwack sounds painful, but he doesn’t even flinch. He bites his lip and narrows his eyes, he’s looking through me now. “That fucking snake.” He fixes on me again. “Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so.’”

“No, I take the blame for this shit,” I say. I meet his eyes and don’t break contact. “I tried to do an initiation for the men, and ignored the warning signs that it was too easy. Rifle must’ve been planning on switching for a long time now.”

“It doesn’t make any god damn sense. Rifle isn’t like that. Sure, he’s a rough and stupid kid most of the time, but he isn’t a fucking thief.”

I’m silent, because my opinion is completely different. I have a feeling Rifle is more important to Surge than I want to explore. But he’s right too, just like Sword said, ‘we’re brother’s now, ain’t we?’

I continue, “Yeah. But it’s what happened. They came rolling in and forced us to take the shit shipment and threatened to kill us if we tried to deal it in the city.”

Surge looks out the window, curling and uncurling the fist he slammed on the railing. It looks bruised. He sighs. “That never stopped us in Cali.”

“It never stopped you,” I shoot back, maybe too quickly. I bite my tongue and resist adding the detail about Cassie. He notices my hesitation though.

“What is it? What are you hiding? It isn’t just the crew you’re worried about,” Surge says. “You’re not the kind of man I know to worry about his crew like this. You usually don’t give a fuck — headstrong, restless, reckless most of the time — The Logan I —,”

“Things change. They get complicated.”

“Well...” Surge says, “Un-complicate them.”

“I can’t.” I sigh heavily and groan. “I killed one of the Skeletons.”

“Fucking Christ, Logan,” Surge says, his voice rising. “Tell me you’re playing a sick joke on me. Why the fuck would you go and do that?”

I want to say, I was protecting someone. I can’t. Giving away the seed of the lie won’t make things better. It won’t make Surge happier. It won’t fix a thing. I remain silent and let him gnash his teeth. He looks around the brightly lit and barely furnished room, avoiding my eyes the whole time. “We haven’t had to deal with this shit for a long time. It changes things.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I’m fucking disappointed,” he says. I feel a pang of anger shoot through me and I stand up immediately.

“I don’t give a shit, I only came to let you know what the fuck was going on. If you don’t have any advice, then I might as well just fucking go and try to kill them all. Our crew can’t do shit with them hovering over us anyway.” I storm out of the room and down the hallway, barely taking a breather to hear him yell. I can’t understand him, my head is flooded with hot rage and fog. I need to get back to Cassie. I need to actually keep her safe. I can’t do that without being there.

I race down the narrow fire-exit stairs and stumble out the door. No alarm goes off and I find my bike in its parking space, straddling a double yellow “NO PARKING ZONE” next to a handicapped space. I jump on and turn it over, before screeching out of the parking lot and back toward my home.

‘Un-complicate things.’ What a joke. I don't know what I expected. Something concrete. Not that useless shit.

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T
he sunlight strikes my face and blooms in my eyelids. Leather scratches my back. I shake under my sheets and try to feel around for the edge of my bed, still keeping my eyes locked shut. Nothing but air. I strike my hand against a hard surface and reel it back in surprise. This isn’t my bed.

I open my eyes and look around, feeling dazed and lightheaded. Where the hell am I? As I sit up and stare into the darkened bathroom across from the living room, my dreams come back to me. Blood sticking in the carpet, pooling and spreading like it was growing. I hold my hand to my mouth and try to shake the feeling of horror.