Now here he was, seconds away from blowing what should’ve been a wonderful new beginning to see where they could take their relationship, and he was about to screw things up. He refused to let her run away.
“Sassy, don’t leave.”
“I need to go to the restroom.”
He pointed to a flimsy closet-type folding door. “You can’t use mine?”
“I need privacy,” she said, picking up her sandals. She held onto the bedpost as she slid one foot in place then the other.
“You can’t leave. Your car won’t be ready for a few days.”
Sassy’s gaze narrowed. “Like I said, I need to go to the restroom. Give me a minute. When I come back, we’ll talk about what happened.”
“Promise?” he asked, studying her face, watching for that complicated tic that would give away uncertainty.
“Logan…”
“Promise me,” he pressed, realizing she’d use the bathroom on the other side of the clubhouse, located right next to the exit.
“I have something I need to do,” she said. “I’ll be right back, for God’s sake.”
Bewildered, he loosened his grip and agreed, “All right.”
“Okay,” she said. “Which way is the bathroom?”
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, Logan hurried down the hall. He tried to close his shirt, working with a couple of buttons down the front of the long-sleeved flannel while fiddling with a set of keys. He rounded the corner and ran smack dab into Tigger and Cara.
“That didn’t take long,” Tigger commented.
“Where is she?” Logan asked, realizing he sounded desperate.
“She just took off,” Cara replied, acting as if Sassy’s departure resulted because of an act Cara initiated.
“Where did she go?” Logan asked angrily.
“How the hell would Cara know?” Tigger asked. “Look, Logan, not every woman is cut out for this life. You know that. Hell, last night she couldn’t even hold her own at the bar. She drank a couple of drinks and was out. You can’t have a woman around here like that.”
Logan pushed by him, but Tigger caught his arm. “She ain’t worth your trouble, man.”
“The hell she isn’t,” he replied, quickly trying to come up with a plan, a way to convince Tigger to ride out to the Devil’s Angels’ clubhouse, the only place he knew where Sassy might go.
Tigger released him and Logan took long strides toward the front door.
“Damn it, man. She’ll be the death of you!” A few seconds later, he added, “You’ve only known her for a day, Logan!”
He wheeled around and glared at them. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve known her all my life. Her name is Sassy Road. She’s Damsel’s daughter.”
Chapter Eight
“Look what we have here,” Gaylord said, looking up from his pool game when Sassy entered the Devil’s Angels clubhouse. “I’d know that fire-engine red hair anywhere.”
His gaming opponent propped his pool stick under his chin. “She’s a friend of yours?”
Gaylord sashayed toward her, copping a strut that made her sick to the quick. The sorry bastard actually thought she was there for him, or for all of them. As hard as it was for her to digest the possibility, some women actually enjoyed the attention from an entire clubhouse. Some of their broads liked being passed around.
“Where’s Damsel?”
“He ain’t here,” Gaylord replied, smacking his lips as he stared at her breasts. “But I got what you need, honey. I promise I can please ya.”
“I need to talk to Damsel.”
“What do you want with him?” A female voice filled the room. Sassy turned to face off with the woman she’d seen with Damsel at the country service station.
“I have a message for him,” Sassy said, looking the broad straight in the eye. “Are you his old lady?”
“I might be. You’re the gal from the market. Aren’t ya?”
“Yes.”
“Thought you belonged to Logan Marcs.”
The sound of his name rolling off another female’s tongue brought with it a reaction she’d never expected. Jealousy spun in her veins, and she could tell right away that Damsel’s old lady was pretty impressed by Logan.
Apparently Logan left an impact on all MC women. She’d picked up on that fact the previous night when she’d been at the Heroes and Rogues’ clubhouse. The broads shot her looks of contempt while the other biker old ladies shunned her.
Logan was a wanted man.
“Did Logan send you over here with a message?” Victory asked, motioning for her.
Sassy took cautious steps. She approached the bar and determined what she wanted to say, how she planned to warn this young woman before her.
Victory frowned. She didn’t trust her. Victory probably wouldn’t believe just anything from anybody. And Sassy was a stranger to these people.
Plus, they clearly thought she belonged to Logan, which placed her in a very dangerous position given the clear cut animosity between the clubs.
“Can I talk to you?”
Gaylord and the other guy approached. They took a seat at the opposite end of the bar. “You two girls have a little chat. I encourage female bonding around here.”
“Me too,” said the other one. “It’s best for the new broads around here to listen to the old ladies. You might learn a thing or two. Experience matters, and the old ladies know what the boys around here like.”
“Boys,” Sassy muttered. “You got that right.”
Gaylord ground his teeth. “Don’t walk in this club spewing insults, hon. I’ll whip that sweet ass all the way to my bed if you ain’t careful.”
Her heart thumped a little harder. That was, verbatim, a threat she’d often heard from Damsel. Perhaps he taught a class on how to handle women when a man wanted to disrespect his broad, or any woman in general.
“I’d like to talk to you privately. Would you mind to take a walk with me?”
“I’m cooking. Dinner is on the stove,” Victory said, pointing toward what must’ve been the kitchen.
“Can we talk in there?”
“Sure,” Victory snapped. “I can’t wait to see what you and I would potentially need to discuss.”
Victory lifted up a wooden plank and Sassy followed her behind the bar and through the kitchen, leaving crude remarks in her wake.
Once they were alone, Sassy made a point to keep her distance, recognizing the protective nature of the old ladies. Back in the day, Sassy’s mother had been a real firecracker, ready to fight for Damsel at every turn, over anything and everyone, particularly a woman.
Her mother became a drunkard, too. Thanks to the party lifestyle and the numerous broads, Sassy’s mom drank herself into a stupor. When she finally took her own life, she left a note behind. Damsel was asked to take care of her only daughter, a daughter she professed on paper to hate.
Sassy was eight years old.
“Well?” Victory asked, backing against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms. “What do you want?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I guess I’d have that better than thou attitude, too, if I were banging Logan Marcs.” She searched her eyes. “No. Why? Should I?”
“Look closer,” Sassy said, hoping if Victory were Damsel’s old lady, she’d viewed family photo albums or at least a picture. She wanted to be sure there wasn’t any resemblance to the girl she once was because when Damsel came back to the clubhouse, she wanted him shocked, truly surprised.
“I don’t know you,” she assured her, turning toward the stove.
“I have muscle spasms, uncontrollable tics whenever I’m nervous, or overly anxious. My mother died when I was in the third grade. I was eight years old. I endured more beatings than any animal, was raped at least a hundred times, and still managed to walk in here because the man responsible for inflicting my pain was kind enough, or perhaps his intentions were born from cruelty, to leave me alive.”
A spoon dropped to the counter. Victory faced her. “And what do you want? A handout?”
“Do. You. Know. Me?” she demanded, raising her voice. “Do you at least know something about me, anything at all?”
“No,” Victory assured her, watching her closer than before. “What does this have to do with Damsel?”
Sassy walked toward her, remembering everything Scott taught her, how to watch for muscle movement, a sudden change in breathing, or a shifting of the eyes. A hot pot of soup boiled behind Victory’s back. The last thing Sassy wanted was a face scorched and burned— another win in Damsel’s favor. “My name is Sassy Road. I’m Damsel’s stepdaughter.”
A slow clap resounded. Damsel entered from across the room. His hands still came together as he applauded her performance. “I have to hand it to you, doll. I don’t know who you are, but you’re mighty convincing.”
“Damsel, what’s this about?” Victory asked, rushing to his side.
“An imposter wanting money, no doubt,” Damsel replied. “Who are you? Why did Sassy send you here?”
Sassy swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “I am Sassy.”
Damsel twisted his mouth, narrowed his gaze, and shook his head. “You ain’t, Sassy, woman. I don’t know who you are, but you ain’t my stepdaughter. She was an ugly girl, didn’t have a body to speak of, and—”
“And you liked torturing her, enjoyed seeing her in pain.”
He snorted at that. “She was a kid.”
“A kid you abused!” she screamed, aware of the pistol in the purse she clutched.
Damsel took a step back. “Victory, get out of here. Tell Gaylord I need to see him.”
“Damsel,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t let you do this. If what she’s saying is true…”
“Now, damn it!”
“Damsel, no,” Victory pleaded. “Not another Addison. I won’t stand by and watch. I refuse to let you take another life.”
With Victory’s stance taken, Damsel wheeled around and slapped her to the floor. Victory’s head wobbled from side to side as she fought to maintain consciousness.
Years of anguish rolled forward, the heartache and pain, the tears shed without anyone there to wipe them away. Sassy shoved her hand in the small purse, retrieved the gun, and after she pointed her weapon, she squeezed the trigger.
Chapter Nine
They were detained by a construction crew. A contractor told them they’d be waiting about ten minutes. “Bullshit!” Logan screamed, punching at the wind.
“Chill, man,” Tigger said, watching him disconcertedly. Confusion stamped its place upon his brow as he wavered back and forth, an effort to steady his bike. His foot dropped to the ground, and he glowered, hanging his arms over the handlebars. “Start talking, man. You knew she was Damsel’s daughter. You didn’t tell us. Why?”
“We were old friends. I didn’t recognize her at first. She’s altered her appearance, been working out with a trainer,” he explained, realizing he was blowing her cover but insistent on saving his own. He’d worry about protecting her from the club later.
“Why would she do that?”
“He abused her, man,” Logan explained. “I didn’t want the club to know what she’s been through. Promise me if I tell you what happened to her, you’ll keep quiet.”
“Yeah, yeah, man. Of course,” Tigger said, always bound by honor when he made an oath to a brother.
Tigger was an all right guy. He managed dirty business dealings, but Logan had always known it would be the hardest day of his life if he had to bring down the club and Tigger took a fall, too. In recent months, Damsel’s club had been the focus of Logan’s department. If and when he helped take down the Heroes and Rogues, Logan wanted Tigger spared, but he also realized the danger in saving one and damning the others.
His life would be on the line. Heroes and Rogues would demand that their members on the outside take revenge, make a kill, and even a score.
“Damsel raised Sassy alone after her mother died. He abused her for over ten years. I’ve known Sassy since I was five.”
“She was a local girl?”
“Yeah,” Logan replied. Sassy would back up his story about growing up there. If she didn’t, well, his cover was blown. As far as these guys knew, he’d been a Fall Branch resident most of his life.
“That’s some shit, man. How the hell can a man abuse a kid and get away with it in this day and age?”
“I don’t know, man.” Logan needed to avoid further questioning. He couldn’t share anything more without giving away far too much.
The reason Damsel was able to walk around a free man was because thugs with badges protected him in Sevierville, but around there? No, it wouldn’t have happened. That was why Logan had become a cop—to right the wrongs Sevier County endured while they were held captive and imprisoned by Damsel and his family.
Peering around a bulldozer, Logan asked a man holding a red flag, “How long before you move this junk?”
“I told you! Five or ten minutes!” the crew member bellowed.