Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(3)

He didn’t know why he was assessing her so intimately. Usually Logan was a one-hit wonder kind of guy. Meet ’em, bang ’em, leave ’em behind. The pattern worked well for him over the past thirty-two years, and he was in no hurry to change it. He’d seen too many guys fall into marriage only to hire men like him a few years later to catch their wives with the gardener or the UPS guy. Monogamy was for the birds, and he didn’t f*cking care to tweet.

One of the drunken douche bags from the bachelor party was at her again. He’d heard her shut him down earlier, but the guy had had plenty more to drink, and he was leaning across the bar, reaching for her.

She stepped back, lowered her adorably pointed chin, and as she’d done earlier, purred another effective slap. “Hands off, hot stuff. I don’t think your wife wants you coming home with fingerprints.”

“It’s not your fingers I’m interested in.” He leaned both forearms on the bar.

She tossed the hand towel she was using to wipe the bar over her shoulder and walked away. Asshole followed her as she moved to the far side of the bar.

Logan sat up a little straighter, his eyes tracking the guy step for step. Years as a Navy SEAL had taught him how to smell trouble a mile away, and this guy smelled rotten. He didn’t like the look in the guy’s eyes. Logan gripped the edge of the bar and set one foot on the floor.

She called to the bartender at the other end of the bar. “JJ.”

JJ looked over. She nodded her head to the side.

Logan had seen her do that earlier, right before she headed to the ladies’ room. Apparently so had the * who wasn’t interested in her fingers. Logan’s hands fisted as he rose to his feet. At six foot three, he had a clear view of the dark-haired guy who was still watching her out of the corner of his eye as she headed for the stairs that led down to the bathroom. He felt a strong hand on his wrist and turned, his muscles taut and ready for a fight.

His buddy Dylan Bad narrowed his dark eyes and leaned across the bar. Where the hell had he come from? Logan’s eyes slid to the swinging door to the stockroom, still moving from Dylan’s entrance.

“Careful with that one, Logan.”

He didn’t need or want the warning. For a second he wondered if Dylan wanted that sexy little bartender for himself, before remembering that Dylan didn’t dip the pen in the company ink, which meant there was something he knew that Logan didn’t. Not for long. He’d deal with that later.

Logan shot back the same dark stare. “Noted. See the guy trailing her? He’d better be careful of me.” He wrenched his arm free and shook it out. Like a dog with a bone, he headed down the stairs with tunnel vision.

Logan pushed through the throngs of twentysomethings gathered in the stairwell, passing handsy guys with their bodies pressed against scantily clad women and groups talking and drinking while eyeing each other up. The ladies’ room was to the left of the staircase, men’s to the right. The sassy bartender and the * were nowhere in sight. A chill ran down Logan’s back. He opened the men’s room door, peered inside. The guy wasn’t there. Logan’s pulse ratcheted up a notch. His muscles corded tighter as he pushed open the women’s room door and took an earful of shit from the women inside as he scanned the tight space, coming up empty again. Motherf*cker.

He pushed through the crowd to the narrow hallway that led to the alley behind the bar. The Emergency Exit Only sign was still hanging loose. Goddamn Dylan. The alarm had been broken for a month. He knew Dylan was busy, but at the moment he didn’t care. Logan was seeing red as he pushed through the door and heard shuffling and muffled pleas. He stalked down the dark alley, following the sounds. He was upon them before the whites of the bartender’s terrified eyes came into focus. Her attacker had her against the wall, trapping her with his hip. One hand fumbled with the waist of her jeans, while the other held her shoulders pressed against the bricks.

Hatred burned in Logan’s veins. In one swift move, Logan grabbed the man by the back of his shoulders and tore him off of her.

Her attacker turned. “What the—”

Logan threw him against the brick wall. He crumpled to the ground but got up fast, coming at Logan with his arms flying. Logan was quick, dodging his fists with ease and landing a hard right to the guy’s jaw, then a left to his gut. The guy’s back met the brick wall with a thud.

“Get inside,” Logan commanded the bartender as he grabbed the guy’s shoulders and threw him down to the pavement, pressing his knee to his sternum.

The idiot tried to get up, but Logan was too powerful, driven by adrenaline and a past filled with too much death. He pinned his arms to the ground with his knees and cocked his fist. The guy’s eyes were wide with fear. Blood dripped from his nose and lips. Logan saw the eyes of the men he’d killed on his SEAL missions and the eyes of the man who’d killed his father.

Logan wasn’t saving his country, and he knew there was no saving his father.

This * wasn’t worth going to jail for.

“Come into this bar again,” Logan seethed, “and you won’t walk out.”





Chapter Two


STELLA’S BODY TREMBLED so hard her teeth chattered. She’d heard the guy who attacked her scramble away, but she still felt threatened. She couldn’t go back into the bar, couldn’t do more than stumble a few feet away from where the guy had attacked her. It was all she could do to remember to breathe. She’d seen Kutcher’s face, Kutcher’s threatening eyes staring back at her as she pleaded for the stranger to stop.