Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

What was Logan doing?

How did he know she’d be there again?

Was he following her?

Was he a danger?

He was cuffed to a bed. How much of a danger could he be?

Pizza-guy frowned and crossed his arms. He seemed to grow three inches. “’Scuse me? You bailing? Now?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t happy. She had a split-second to choose between three options. Stand there and try to pacify pizza-guy. Make a run for it and hope to reach her car before a pissed off pizza-guy caught up with her.

Or slip into the room.

Where a possibly crazy stalker was waiting to fuck her.

Mouth in a thin line, pizza-guy took an aggressive step toward her.

Decision made.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed out as she shoved the key card back in the slot. “I really do need to lie down.” Maybe on top of the really sexy man in the bed.

With that, she used both hands to shove the door open a foot, ducked in the room, and forcefully closed the door behind her before resting her back against it. One loud smack against the door had her jumping, but then the heavy plod of pizza-guy’s footsteps faded as he left.

Her gaze met Logan’s.

“That fucking dress.” Logan said shaking his head as his heated gaze traced her curves.

She did a little visual assessment herself. Jesus, he was buck naked and sprawled on her bed, having somehow arranged himself exactly as she’d done last week.

And had she mentioned he was naked? Naked and very buff with a smooth chest, rippling abs, a few scattered tattoos, and—

Oh, my God.

Naked and growing by the second.

She gaped at his rapidly expanding erection before raising her gaze back to his stubble-covered face. The man didn’t have a beard, but seemed to live by the it’s five o’clock somewhere ideal. Always looking just a few hours past overdue for a shave. At least, the two times she’d met him he appeared that way. For all she knew, in his normal life he shaved once an hour and just reserved the scruffy look for times he followed unsuspecting women to their hotel rooms and tied himself to their beds.

Naked and hard.

Logan shrugged as though the organ in question was functioning completely independent from the rest of him. “The dress is hot.”

The dress is hot? That’s all he had to say?

“H-how did you get in here?” She clutched her purse against her chest almost as a shield in case the man magically broke free and advanced on her.

With a wink, he said. “I have my ways.”

Yeah, he had his ways all right. He probably flexed one of those biceps and the damn room key tumbled right out of the receptionist’s hands and into his pocket. Though he seemed fully at ease with the situation, Chloe wasn’t prepared to let her guard down until she got answers to the five hundred questions pinging around her mind.

“How’d you get out last time?”

“A buddy uncuffed me.”

It made no sense. “How did he find you?”

“My iPhone was on the night stand there,” he said turning toward the night table. “I yelled for Siri, and she called my guy for me.”

Oh, huh. That actually made sense. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been so innovative were the positions reversed.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said in a low voice as shame washed over her. Convinced at the very least he wasn’t about to spring from the bed and attack her, she lowered her purse and let it drop to the ground. Ten steps brought her to the foot of the bed.

“Are you?” He tilted his head, studying her. She had the distinct impression he could see straight through her skull to all the fucked-up messiness swirling around inside. That had to stop. No one was allowed to know what went on between her ears these days. Way too scary.

“Why are you here? Are you stalking me?” Would someone admit to being a stalker if they were in fact a stalker? Good thing she wasn’t a detective, she’d be out of a job in no time.

He grunted out a laugh. “I’m not stalking you. I’ve seen you out a few times on the weekends. You seem to do the same thing every time. You come in, have one drink, find one man, stay until the drink is gone then leave with your new…friend. It wasn’t too far a stretch to think you went to the same motel room as well.”

Jesus, she hadn’t realized using a routine would make her so predictable and easy to prey on. A chill ran down her spine. She needed to be more careful. More observant of her surroundings. He’d seen her more than once? Shit, she’d never even noticed him. Last week she would have thought it impossible to miss someone with his strong presence. Apparently, she was dead wrong. Still…