Logan, Book 3 of The Lost Mafia Princess Series

The scene played out over and over in his head. He hadn’t realized they were in too deep until it was too late. The image of Frankie being shot in the stomach was more of a nightmare than Logan could handle at the moment. Although he was grateful the injury wasn’t life-threatening, it had still hit a little too close to home.

He could still hear the tortured pain in Frankie’s wife’s voice when he called her. They’d had to send some of the boys to bring her to the hospital because she’d been in no condition to drive. As the doctors and nurses worked tirelessly in surgery, Logan had made the dreaded phone call to his brother.

One of their own was down, and it wasn’t some nobody soldier. This was Frankie, his brother’s second-in-command. Stone had known he needed to leave Russia immediately and head home. The family needed help. Hell, his little brother needed help, and Stone wasn’t about to let them down.

Logan revved his bike’s engine and opened the throttle. There wasn’t anyone else on the mountain road for miles. People rarely drove this stretch except on weekends, when the mountain crawled with Oregonians and tourists alike.

They came for the hiking. Three waterfalls in the area were well documented, but only a few locals knew about the hidden ones. Logan’s family had a cabin near the larger of the two secluded gems. Antoni Tuff had discovered the spot in the woods years ago. He would bring his children there and make them close their eyes while he described a dream home in such vivid detail that all three of them could see it in their mind’s eye. When Logan was only ten, his father had brought that dream to life.

Logan was the only one who really used the house anymore. It was his private sanctuary whenever life got tough, a place where the world melted away and allowed him to think clearly without interruption. No one else trekked this far up the mountain, and he was grateful for that.

There was a bend in the road ahead that could be dangerous if it wasn’t taken seriously. Logan eased off the throttle and leaned into the turn. Thank God he did. Just beyond the curve sat a beat-up, older-model hatchback with a flat tire. It looked as though the driver had tried to pull over as far as possible, but the rock face met the pavement, leaving almost no shoulder.

Logan avoided the car and kept going. When he glanced into his rearview mirror, he saw a woman sitting on the ground in front of it. She was hunched over with her knees pulled to her chest. A dark blue hoodie concealed most of the features that might’ve made her stand out.

Go back, you fucking dick. You know there’s no help out here for her.

But what if it was a setup? What if someone was waiting to jump him when he stopped?

Really? Where would they jump out from? The fucking rock? Use your brain. She’s out here alone, and no one’s coming to save her.

No one spoke to Logan like that except Logan himself. He came to a complete stop in the middle of the highway and wrestled with his conscience. He’d planned to spend the week getting away from his life. Helping a stranded driver wouldn’t put a dent in those plans. After a moment, he turned around and headed back toward the broken-down car.

When he arrived, Logan was surprised the driver didn’t even look up. He pulled in front of the vehicle and shut off the engine. After removing his helmet and gloves, he took a moment to inspect the scene. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, which boded well for him.

He planted his boots directly in front of the mysteriously hooded driver and waited to see whether she noticed him. When nothing happened, he cleared his throat, thinking she might’ve fallen asleep. When she still didn’t react, he crouched to take a closer look. “Are you awake under that hood?” he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

Her head rose immediately, revealing the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. “Oh, thank God,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought…”

“You thought what?” Logan asked.

A few wisps of blond hair were plastered to her cheeks. She’d obviously been crying. The damp strands clung to her skin. The pink rimming those incredible eyes told him more than she ever could. She was scared, but there was something deeper beneath the fear.

“Nothing. I—I’m so grateful you stopped. I’ve been here for more than two hours, and you’re the first person I’ve seen.”

Her voice was angelic, soft and sweet. Logan knew immediately that he wanted to make her scream his name just so he could hear her say it, but he needed to focus. She needed help, and he was going to give it to her. “Is it just a flat tire?”

“I—I think so.”

“Then where’s your spare? I’ll put it on for you.”

Tears pooled in her eyes as she shook her head. She raised one hand and pointed toward the back of the car. As she did, her sleeve slipped down slightly. Logan’s gaze locked on the ring of bruises encircling her wrist. “It used to be in the back of my car, but my ex-boyfriend took it out. At least, I think that’s what happened.”

Logan rose and walked slowly around the vehicle, peering through the windows as he went. A hastily packed overnight bag lay open in the back, its zipper still spread wide, and a pillow had been tossed onto the front passenger seat. He could see that she’d opened the compartment where the spare tire should’ve been, but she was right. It was empty, and even the jack was gone.

Crouching beside the damaged wheel, he tried to get a better look. It was more than a flat tire. The entire axle had come apart. When he ran his fingers over the break, he could tell someone had sawed through it. The damage was clearly sabotage. His blood immediately began to boil as he wondered why anyone would want to hurt such an ethereal creature. This woman was running, and her escape had been unplanned and desperate. She needed help, and thankfully, he needed something to take his mind off the last few days.

Logan opened the back door, grabbed the overnight bag, and set it at her feet. “Take out only what you need. I can fit maybe one change of clothes into a saddlebag.”

“What? You—you’re going to help me?”

“Yeah, but we need to get moving. The shops close soon.”

She looked as though she wanted to ask what he meant, but she decided against it. Pulling out a toothbrush and deodorant, she shoved them into her pockets and tossed the bag back into the car.

“Do you have a purse or something?” Logan asked.

“No. I couldn’t—I mean, I accidentally left it at home.”

That was clearly a lie, but he didn’t want to pry any further yet. With a nod, he led her over to his bike. He pulled his gloves from his helmet, gave her a quick once-over, and placed the helmet on her head. “Ever ridden before?”

“My uncle used to have an old Indian when I was little. He’d let me ride on the handlebars when he took me out for a slice of pizza.”

Logan chuckled and lifted her chin so he could tighten the strap. “Lucky man. There aren’t too many of those around anymore. You won’t be riding on the handlebars, but I suppose you know how to move with the rider, even from the back.”

Logan climbed onto the bike and held out a hand to help her. Once she was settled behind him, he slid his sunglasses onto his face and started the engine. Before taking off, he turned his head and extended his hand. “Logan,” he called over the roar of the engine.

“Reagan,” she replied, smiling behind the visor.

“Hold on, Reagan. There’s a small town about thirty minutes ahead. We’ll stop there and get you some riding gear.”

“Why do I need riding gear?” she asked. “You can just leave me there. I’m sure I can get a tow truck to pick up the car and change the tire.”

“There aren’t any garages in this town,” Logan explained. “You’re with me now, Reagan. I’ll take care of you.”

The tarnished, old-fashioned bell above the wooden door rang as Logan walked into the shop.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite Tuff boy.” Marian smiled as she waddled out from the back.

Logan stepped behind the counter and gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Mary, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been better. Doc says I have to stay off my feet for a while. I wish he’d be the one to make that happen.” She winked before noticing Reagan standing nervously near the front door. “And who’s this beauty?”

“This is my new friend, Reagan. She needs some riding gear. A leather jacket, gloves, and a helmet should be fine.”

Mary waddled toward Reagan and gave her a visual once-over. She took Reagan by the wrists and held her arms out to her sides, causing Reagan to wince. Logan turned his back as though he hadn’t noticed, but he could see their reflection in the mirror. Mary whispered something to Reagan, and Reagan shook her head.

“Well, thankfully, you came to the right place,” Mary said, smiling once more.

“You’re the only biker shop within two hundred miles,” Logan said sarcastically.

“And the most revered,” Mary added. “She’s a small in jackets. Grab that helmet from the top shelf. It should fit her just fine.”

Reaching over Mary’s head, Logan pulled down a black helmet with teal-blue lightning bolts running along both sides. He placed it on Reagan’s head and adjusted the fit. “How does it feel?”

“Snug.”

“Good. That’s how it’s supposed to fit.” He took the helmet off and pointed toward a rack of leather motorcycle jackets. “Go pick one out.”

As Reagan did as she was told, Logan turned back to the counter and began scribbling on a scrap of paper. “Can you do me a favor, Mary? I’ll be back in town tomorrow with some empty saddlebags. Can you grab these things for me and have them ready?”

Mary read over the list, then smiled and nodded. “Is it okay if I throw in a few extra items?”

“Absolutely. Oh, and can you let Tank know there’s a broken-down car about thirty minutes up the road? I’d appreciate it if he emptied it of anything personal. We don’t want anyone tracing it.”

Logan caught Reagan’s reflection in the mirror behind Mary. She’d heard him. The words he used made her pause before she continued combing through the plethora of jackets.

“Um…how’s this one?” Reagan asked, holding up a black leather jacket covered in zippers. It was a traditional biker coat, the kind worn by countless Harley riders. She would look amazing on the back of his bike wearing it.

“That’s perfect.” Logan glanced down at her feet and noticed for the first time that she was wearing slip-on tennis shoes. He wanted to roll his eyes but held himself back. Whoever or whatever she was running from had left her with limited choices. Still, those shoes weren’t safe for riding. “Throw in a pair of riding boots too,” he told Mary.

After ringing up the purchases, Logan handed Mary an extra four hundred dollars on top of the cost of Reagan’s things. “That’s for the list and Tank’s help.”

“He’ll be grateful,” Mary said with a nod.

As they stepped outside, Reagan pulled on her new helmet. Logan lifted her chin so he could fasten the strap. “Thank you,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No need,” he replied through gritted teeth. “If I couldn’t afford it, I wouldn’t have offered.”

It had been many years since a woman had offered to pay for anything, let alone repay him for his help. He should’ve been flattered, but instead, he was irritated. He was as much a mystery to her as she was to him, and that had never happened before. Every woman he’d ever spoken to or slept with had known exactly who he was. It was no secret that he ran the largest, scariest, and deadliest mafia organization on the West Coast. Apparently, in the circles this delicate flower traveled in, neither his name nor his reputation mattered, and he liked that.

“Logan, how much farther is it to wherever you’re taking me?”

“About an hour, Odważny. Hold on tight.”

As Logan pulled away, he felt her arms wrap around his waist. When he glanced down, he saw her gloved hands clasped in front of him, and a private smile crossed his face. This woman needed him, but what he didn’t yet know was that he needed her too.

With one hand on the handlebar and the other resting on his thigh, Logan headed out of town and toward the most remote place he could think of. It looked as though they both had some healing to do.