Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)

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 asshole 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. Motherfucker.

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 asshole 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.

She felt a hand on her arm and jumped, screamed. To her embarrassment, she huddled against the brick wall, her arms pressed close to her chest, hands shielding her face, as if she could become part of the brick wall.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”

The Midwestern-sounding guy from the bar. He was so tall up close, and broad, which made her cringe closer to the wall.

He held his hands up in surrender, still breathing hard from the fight. “I’m not going to hurt you. I saw him follow you out.”

He peered over his shoulder, giving her a second to try to process what had just happened. He’d saved her. Ripped the guy off of her and beat the hell out of him. Blue eyes from the bar. You saved me. This repeated in her head several times as she tried to gain control of her senses and force her brain to function again.

“He’s gone. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” His tone was confident, and she clung to that confidence like a lifeline. “Are you hurt?”

She didn’t know, couldn’t feel any part of her body. She shook her head, or at least she thought she did. She must have, because relief passed over his face, easing the tension in his jaw.

“I’m going to hold you.” It wasn’t a question. “Just to let you know you’re safe. You’re shaking and probably in shock.” He gathered her in his strong arms, and she bristled, unable to move. “You’re in control. I’ll stop if you want me to, but you’re safe.”

Safe. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel safe again.