Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CRASH
“Oh, fuck, someone turn that drill off,” I moan, rolling over to avoid the sun blazing through my open blinds.
What the hell happened last night? I sling my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cool wooden flooring of my room. My head is cupped in my hands, my elbows digging into my bare knees.
Prying one eye open, I see I am only in my black boxer briefs with my dick rock hard. In a panic, I look at my bed behind me and see no one there. Oh, thank fuck.
Walking into my bathroom, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I take a leak, and wash my hands.
Leaning my hands on the vanity, I look at myself in the mirror and wince. My hair is sticking up in all directions, and my eyes are bloodshot, which is no doubt from the amount of alcohol I drank last night.
I tried to drown out the image of Stevie heartbroken in my head. It played on a loop over and over again. I squeeze my eyes shut when I remember a part of last night where I wanted to leave and go find her. To beg her for forgiveness for the shit that I pulled, but the guys stopped me.
Stumbling back into my room, I pull open a drawer and pull out a pair of grey sweatpants, and clean boxer briefs. Once I am dressed, I walk to the kitchen in search of some food and coffee.
I need some carbs to soak up this alcohol from last night.
Stepping into the room, I see the prospect sleeping on top of the bar. Flame is across the pool table with some chick sleeping across his legs.
Heels sound from behind me, and I grin seeing Dorian walking my way.
“A good night?” I ask.
“Always,” she says with a wink. “Tell Forge I had to get home; I have some clients I need to email.”
“Will do.” I salute her, the she walks away.
Going into the kitchen, I dig through the refrigerator for some frozen burritos. Then pop one in the microwave. Making my coffee while that heats, I can’t stop thinking about the shit that went down last night.
Leaning against the counter, I sip my piping hot black coffee, wincing at the burn, but I also welcome it. Stevie will forgive me— fuck, she has to once I explain everything that has happened.
Racer told me I can tell her a certain amount of information, but I have to tell her everything if I want her back. She doesn’t know much about club life, but I want her with me.
As my girl and eventually my Ol’ Lady. Fuck, I have already called ‘Dibs’ in my head, but I know that it needs to be witnessed by the club for it to be official.
The microwave beeps and my stomach growls at the amazing smell that wafts out when I open the door. Not waiting for it to cool down, I take a big bite.
“Oh, fuck, hot. Hot.” I chew quickly, and swallow down the food, then rush to the refrigerator for some orange juice to cool my mouth off.
“Damn,” I mutter.
Leaving the kitchen with my breakfast burrito and mug, I go into the main room where Rogue and Savage now sit.
“Morning.”
“Fuck, my head is killing me.” Savage stops next to me, taking my mug, and downing half of my coffee.
“Help yourself, brother.” He grins, winking at me, then leans forward and takes a big ole bite out of my burrito. Fucker.
“That was savage, Savage.” Rogue laughs.
“Fucker, get your own.” I snatch my food away.
“Why, when I can have yours?”
“You are not getting mine,” I reply.
“Are we still talking about the burrito, Crash?”
“Fuck off. Dickhead,” I grunt.
“No? So, we are now talking about my dick.”
“I am too fucking hungover for this shit.” I shake my head which makes the room spin. “Oh, fuck.”
“Dude, if you are going to puke, do it in the john.”
Handing my mug and food to Savage, who laughs when I rush down the hall to my bedroom, I just make it to the bathroom to vomit in the toilet. I retch and dry heave, my back and stomach spasming in pain at the violence my body just went through.
Falling against the wall, I think about the last time I got this drunk, and hell, it was fucking years ago. Even the night I got my patch here at the club, I did not drink this much.
My body aches, but I push to my feet, splash some cold water on my face, and dry it with a towel. I look like hell in my reflection. With a quick brush of my teeth, I leave my room again.
I hear a light bang, then what sounds like a drawer closing and another opening.
Pres is up early, but that is not at all uncommon, with what he does for the club. Walking to his office, I push the door open.
“Morning, Pres. I—”
I stop in my tracks as I look at fucking Valarie.
“Morning,”
“What the fucking hell, Val?” I snarl, not fucking believing my eyes right now.
I advance on her and she backs up, her hand going behind her back. A smile is on her face that shows she is hiding something.
“I was looking for a pen and paper; I was going to give you some contacts.” She tries to worm her way out of this situation.
“Stop fucking lying to me, Valarie. I am sick of it.”
She rolls her eyes, her whole demeanor changing right in front of me.
“Oh, fine. When did you become so fucking whiny, Logan? Damn.”
“Get on with it.”
“Fine.” She waves her hand at me. “It was all a set up. I let my boy beat me, because I know that you are a sucker for a woman in pain— that you do anything for her, plus we have history. I knew that you would not turn me away if I was hurt. I needed to know what you and the club knew about my crew. I will not let anyone stand in my way, Crash.” She shrugs, stepping closer to me.
My guard goes up, ready to protect myself if needed, as nothing surprises me with this woman anymore.
“I don’t get it, Val. Why turn to this crew? You could have been so much more.”
Rolling her eyes again, she grins. “I wanted money and power, now I have both.” She nods to Racer’s computer. “With Vinnie at my side, we got what I wanted, and we were going to fucking rule Phoenix.”
“Then he got pinched.” I do not touch on the fact that she just admitted to stealing money from the club. But fucking how?
“Yeah. Fucking cops got him,” she snarls. “Grady arrested Vinnie, so I planned on hurting him and his.”
It dawns on me what she just said. No matter what happened between Stevie and me, Val was always going to hurt her.
“So, the plan was to hurt Stevie anyway.” She nods. “I was there and made your plan easier.”
“Yes. She always had a crush on you in school. It was fun seeing her pine over you, when I had you. Seeing the pain in her eyes when I kissed you, or when I told her all about how you fucked me ten-ways-to-Sunday.” She laughs, but it is hollow.
How the hell did I miss this side of her?
“Stevie never did anything to you, except be a best friend. Fuck, she did everything for you, Val. And you purposely hurt her, using me.”
“She had a family that cared for her, and acted like she was better than me,” she spits.
“When? All I saw was a girl being the best friend she could to another girl. Giving you fucking money, for fucks sake. Bringing you food, and letting you eat at her aunt’s house.”
I stare at her with wide, bewildered eyes. All of this over fucking jealousy.
“You did not give her the time of day, so you can get fucked with that notion, Crash. Do not act like you cared for her; you were all about cars and fucking me,” she snaps.
“You are right. I was lost in the fog of what we were doing but what I do remember, is that Stevie was a fucking good friend. She would want you out of this trouble.”
She thinks on my words, and I see a glimmer of the girl I once knew. Biting her lip, she gets this faraway look In her eyes, like she is reliving a part of her past.
“I am in deep, Logan.” She can’t hide the tremble in her voice, and I think there is some hope.
“We, the club, can help you. I promise you this. Let me help you,” I plead, but I see the shutters coming down in her eyes. She doesn’t believe that we can help her, or she really doesn’t want my help.
It stings to know that, but when someone is too far gone, there is no helping them.
“I am sorry, Logan. I did love you, and for a time I thought we would get married and have kids. Rule the street racing world together.” Tears fill her eyes, and fuck, I feel that deep in my gut.
Making my voice softer, I’m hoping to get through to her that I really want to help.
“Let me help.”
Shaking her head, she sniffles, then wipes her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.
“I am in deep. There is no climbing out.” Regret shines in her eyes, along with more tears.
Before I can react to stop her, she raises her arm. It is then that I see the fucking steel motorcycle statue that Racer has in his office, coming down on the side of my head.
Pain radiates through my skull, and my teeth clang together.
My knees give out from the pain, hitting the floor hard. I grunt, my hands on the floor the only thing stopping me from face planting, as my body shakes.
Nausea rolls through me as I watch her retreating feet leave the room. Fuck. Blood drips onto the floor, my hand going to my wound to add pressure.
“Savage,” I call but my voice is weak.
Darkness starts to pull me under— I know that I need to get my brother’s attention. With what energy I have left, I push a chair over. The loud crash of the wood hitting the floor vibrates through my head, making me grunt in pain.
Heavy rushed footsteps come my way and I sigh, my body giving out.
“Crash.”
“Fuck. Get Bolt.”
“It was Val. Stop her.”
“On it,” I hear someone say, but the darkness takes over.
I wake up slowly, the room dim. Thank fuck, because my head feels like it is being split in two.
Turning my head, I see Savage and Target sitting on chairs next to the bed. I am in the medical room here at the clubhouse, so my injury, thanks to fucking Val, was not that bad.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Savage says, his voice softer than normal.
“Good to have you back, brother,” Target adds.
“Fuck. How long have I been out?”
“About three hours. Bolt checked you over, then he stitched you up. You needed six stitches, and you have a concussion,” VP explains.
“Shit. Did you catch her?”
Savage growls, and I touch his hand to calm him. I may not swing his way, but he means a lot to me.
“No. She slipped through the gates while the prospect went for a drink. Had a car waiting for her.”
I nod to Target and instantly regret it. A new wave of nausea rolls through me.
“Pres is on his way.”
“Oh, fuck,” I groan.
“This is not on you, brother. She pulled this shit.”
“Yeah, but I brought her into the club. Fuck,” I reply to Savage, scrubbing my hand over my face to help clear some of the fog.
“How are you doing, Crash?” Racer’s deep voice fills the room like the authoritative figure he is.
“Like I got hit with a steel statue,” I answer.
He scoffs, but I see a smile on his face.
“She got away, but I have two of the prospects out looking for her.” I inhale, one to get air into my lungs, but also to control this dizziness.
“It was all a fucking set up,” I start.
“Of course it was,” Savage growls.
“She was going to hurt Stevie no matter what happened with me. Stevie was part of her revenge for her brother being put in jail. Grady is Stevie’s cousin, and he is also the sheriff who arrested Vinnie.
She used our history to find out what we knew about her crew, and she also stole money from the club. I don’t know how she did it.”
“That was my fuck up. I was sorting the accounts and was called away, but I forgot to lock the screen,” Pres admits. “I will see if Maverick or Astrid can track down where she sent it and get it back, maybe more.” he smirks.
“I want to hunt that bitch down for hurting my boy. Usually I do not hit women but fuck, she needs a lesson or two,” Savage snarls.
“So, I am your boy now, huh?” I murmur, making his hand on mind tighten.
“Always.”
“I think his girl will have something to say about sharing him.” Target laughs.
“Fuck, Stevie is not talking to me right now, and I can’t blame her for that. I fucked up.”
“She will come around, man. She knows what a catch you are,” Rogue jokes.
I flip him off, then rise to a sitting up position. My head spins, and I breathe through my nose to slow the nausea. Damn, this sucks.
“ Bolt said that you have a concussion, but more on the mild side, so suck it up,” Racer states, a smirk on his face. “I don’t need a weak pussy in my club.”
I flip him off, which makes the men in the room laugh. Fuck, I just flipped Pres off, but right now, I have zero fucks to give. The pain eases the longer I sit up, and my stomach is rolling to a slow tide, rather than a fucking tsunami.
“I need to get to Stevie,” I mutter.
“Brother, you need to rest. We will track Val, and when you have shaken this off, you can go to Stevie,” Target tells me.
Sighing, I slowly blow out my breath. All I can think about besides this fucking pain that needs to fuck off, is getting to Stevie. I just have to fucking hope that she lets me explain what has been happening and why I was a dick at the race.
“Sleep, Logan,” Savage says, and fuck, when he uses my legal name it makes me soft.
“Using my legal name, huh?” I say, lying back down with his help.
We have a strange relationship, but fuck, I know that he will do anything for me, and I will do the same for him, or for anyone in the club. I know that he has slept with both Target and Rogue, as both men are bisexual, whereas Savage is gay.
They have this connection that no fucker can break, but we have this thing where he flirts and is very protective over me.
“Worked. didn’t it?” He winks.
I close my eyes, my head on the pillow, which feels nice, and my body relaxes.
“Sleep, brother. I will stay with you in case you puke in your sleep, or swallow your tongue,” Savage says, and I grin. “Okay, now I want to witness someone swallowing their tongue,” he jokes.
“Crazy, brother. Fucking crazy.” I notice my words are slurred, as sleep starts to take over.
“Is he okay?” I hear the concern in Savage’s voice.
“He is fine. Just needs to rest, keep an eye on him.”
That is the last thing I hear before sleep takes me.