Chapter Six

- Charlotte -

I didn't think. My eyes darted to Arthur who stated back at me with venomous fury, clutching his ribs where he'd been thrown into the dresser.

A promise of retribution blazing in his eyes before I looked back up at Logan's emerald unwavering gaze, his large tattooed hand still extended even as his chest heaved with restraint.

He looked older - harder. He was wider than I remembered, covered with muscles and more tattoos covering his arms. Some were flexed with silver scars and his left eyebrow was sliced through with a cut that hadn't been there three years ago.

I slapped my smaller hand into his. "Get me the fuck out of here." I rasped, my throat feeling like I'd swallowed glass with a shot of tequila.

A smirk twitched at his lips, his hand closing around mine. "Good girl," he muttered in a low growl, hauling to my feet with one hand, picking up my duffle bag with the other and slinging it over his shoulder.

He moved without hesitation, his boots stomping a path over the ruined door and out into the cold air, hauling ass to the modified red and black motorbike that was parked beside Arthur's fancy cage.

The air was biting, filled with the sound of approaching sirens, my eyes sweeping the empty parking lot, freezing for a moment when I saw a familiar face waiting on another bike near the driveway.

My eyes widened slightly as I took in the bald head, the spider tattoo and the hardened gaze he threw our way.

The guy from the pitstop was watching us, a leather jacket covering his shirt with the Vipers insignia patch on his shoulder. He nodded once, turning his attention back to the road, looking out for us.

He was a club member.

Of course he fucking was. That had to have been how Logan even knew where I was.

Logan didn't even look at him, ignoring the surprised look on my face. He threw my bag onto the back of his bike, locking it down with a few swift clips of a strap, grabbing a helmet from the handlebars and turned to me.

His eyes lingered on my face for a moment as I looked back up at him, opening my mouth to fire off questions only to stop when his hands moved deftly.

He slid the helmet over my curls and tightened the buckle, his rough, warm skin grazing against mine as he secured it into place. The touch cut off my words, making my breath catch for a moment at how gently he was being compared to the violence he'd just been about to inflict.

"Get on, princess," he growled softly, throwing his leg over the front of the bike, turning the key and revving the engine in a smooth, practiced movement.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Don't call me that," I muttered weakly, but still slid behind him in an all too familiar way, my arms wrapping around his solid waist.

He let out a rough snorted laugh. "I think I earned it," he shot back, kicking the stand up. "Hold on."

Before I could retort, he slammed the throttle, executing a standing spin, my hands reflexively tightening around his, my palms pressing flat against the muscles barely concealed by the tight black shirt and cut he wore.

My body pressed tightly against him, my thighs locking against his to keep myself seated as he peeled out of the carpark without a second delay. He smelled so familiar - like cigarettes, motor oil and a distinct musk that was uniquely him.

Logan threw a nod to the pitstop biker as we passed, turning onto the main road before he opened up the engine, putting as much distance between us and the approaching sirens as possible.

The modified engine roared with precision, the headlight cutting through the roads and darkness like a blade through butter towards the county line toward Dawn County - towards the clubhouse.

Logan leaned forward slightly as we gained speed, uncaring of his helmet-less head, the white streak in his dark hair swiping wildly in the burst of wind.

I glanced back, checking if Arthur was following, flinching when two distinct noises exploded.

Bang. Bang.

My heart stopped, seeing the flash from a firearm illuminated the silhouette of the leather and bald head beside Arthur's car.

My head stopped for a moment. "Fuck...did he just.."

"Spider just blew out the square's tires," Logan barked over the roar of the engine and the wind, cutting me off before I could finish.

A second growling engine ignited into the air, the other bike closing distance and Spider caught up without issue.

I swallowed hard. "T-The motel clerk..."

Logan cut me off again. "Hayley knows to keep her mouth shut," he said smoothly.

"Hayley?" I squeaked out, suspicion and confusion lacking my tone. "H-How many fucking people do you know in this area?"

Logan let out a sharp laugh. "Enough," he answered, glancing at Spider as he caught up beside us. They shared a glance, Spider saying something that was lost to the blur of the wind but Logan seemed to hear him perfectly.

"We'll split up at the crossroad," he rumbled, reaching up to adjust a Bluetooth earpiece. "I'll get the princess back to the clubhouse, you deal with our contact at the Dawn County PD. Have him wipe any camera footage they might have."

Spider nodded, his eyes flicking to me for a moment, a slight softening of worry in his expression I didn't understand.

Logan tensed, catching the glance. "I got her." He growled, defensive and raw. "She's safe with me," he added, glancing back at me, an arrogant smirk cutting across his lips though his voice lowered, stripped of aggression. "Aren't you, princess?"

I scowled beneath the helmet, glaring at him with a pissed pout. "Just be glad I'm not counting this as kidnapping, asshole." It didn't stop my hands gripping his waist a bit tighter, knowing he was the safest option right now.

Logan let out another laugh, Spider's expression softening as he shook his head and gunned his bike. "Definitely Prez's kid," Spider shouted loudly enough I could hear him over the engines, giving a two finger salute to Logan. "See you at the clubhouse, Reaper! Char - good to have you back!"