Biker Justice: A Skull Kings MC Novella by Sage L. Morgan Page B

he led me to his Harley and offered me a spare helmet. “What are you doing?”
    Logan’s face was impassively serious, all of his previous good humor gone. “Put this on. Trust me.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “I’ll get you home in time to feed Xander a nice, homemade dinner.”
    He didn’t wait for a response and bopped the helmet onto my head. I stared as he fastened the strap under my chin.
    “Why didn’t you call me?” I sputtered.
    Logan’s fingers slowed. His eyes remained fixed just below my face. “Why didn’t you call me ?”
    “That’s not fair,” I said with a scoff. “You’re the one who lied about who you really are. You’re supposed to call first.”
    “I didn’t know there was a specific protocol to follow.”
    “There isn’t. It’s just plain good manners. It would’ve also helped to know that I was going to go for a surprise ride when I showed up for work today.”
    Logan grinned in spite of himself. “You’re free to go if you really want.”
    I crossed my arms, eyeing the seat of the Harley. “Well...where were you planning on taking me?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Come with me and find out.”
    My left foot inched forward. Should I? My mind was cautious, but something in my gut urged me to swing my leg over that seat and wrap my arms around Logan’s middle. I dared myself to do it, knowing that I wouldn’t have the nerve if I waited just one second longer.
    “Xander eats his dinner at seven,” I said as I settled myself behind him.
    The motorcycle growled to life, vibrating powerfully between my legs. Logan turned his head to the side, and I caught sight of the outer corner of his mouth as it turned up into a grin.
    “That gives us plenty of time.”
    For what? I couldn’t help but wonder.
    Suddenly, we lurched our way out of his parking spot. I gave a surprised shriek and tightened my hold on Logan’s torso. His belly undulated as he laughed, the sound of it impossible to hear behind the pistoning engine.
    The wind stung my face as it whipped past, but I felt exhilarated. Sarah’s car was just turning into the parking lot, showing up ten minutes late as always. I lifted a hand to her surprised face behind the windshield as we made our final exit.
    * * *
    I watched the town scroll past at dizzying speed. First, we were on Main Street, the signs of the businesses reduced to colored blurs. I caught a glimpse of the Sudsy Lady and wondered if Lisbeth was inside. Two seconds later, we were on the other side of the railroad tracks, crossing into the old industrial part of town. Then, that too fell behind us, and Canyon City slowly gave way to the wild desert landscape.
    A week ago, I would’ve wondered if Logan was actually a serial killer planning on indulging his murderous urges out in the middle of nowhere. Hell, I still wondered that, albeit a little facetiously. I couldn’t help but identify all the perfect ways he could dispose of my body out in the desert amongst the dead bushes and starving coyotes in the shadows of the canyon.
    But something told me I could trust him. Maybe it was the way he fastened the helmet under my chin himself, or his tight grip and gentle steering as we sped through town. I wanted to believe that it was all for my safety, that he cared that much about me, even though he’d lied about most of the stuff I’d grown to know about him.
    I needed to believe him. I didn’t know how I could live with myself otherwise.
    After a few minutes of endlessly flat terrain, I spotted a small structure on the horizon. We approached it quickly. At first glance, it looked like one of the many abandoned ranch houses that populated the area, leftovers from the Spanish cattle-driving days. But there was shiny, new glass in the windows, a good roof that had to be less than a decade old, and fresh motorcycle tracks in the gravel driveway.
    Something inside of me told me that this house in the middle of nowhere, barely within the boundaries of the county