Flame (Ruin Outlaws MC #4) Read Online Free Page B

sun beats down on me. I shield my face from the heat and try to pick a direction to go. Logan took me left to that little restaurant the other morning. So maybe... Turn right? I note the building across from the alley incase I get lost, and start my way down the sidewalk, feeling the revolver's heft in my pants.

CHAPTER 3 — LOGAN
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    M y motorcycle has been running like shit lately. Maybe too rich with all the smog it's been kicking out. I need to take a look at it, but now isn't the time.
    I asked Damian about the Samson brothers, but he didn't have a lot of information to tell me except what part of town they might be hanging out around. It's enough to go off of anyway, I'm sure I won't miss them when I see them.
    Judging by what Damian did know, they're not Hispanic. That might make it a little easier, but then again, this is a border town. Whatever. He said the southend of the city is where they are usually fucking around. I'm antsy about running into Mr. Martinez again. I doubt he thinks very highly of me after I shouted at him at the drug drop.
    I turn down a deserted side street and cut through a bunch of buildings. The layout of the city is coming back to me. When we first entered the town, it was like a hazy memory that I could barely grab onto, but the longer I'm here, the more the fog lifts. Hell, it feels just like yesterday I was down at the range shooting with Surge.
    Surge. I wonder what he's doing to handle the situation with the Skeletons. I've known him for so many years but still don't have that much insight on what makes him tick. I guess I've never really given a shit, but maybe Cassie is changing that a little.
    Funny. I thought I'd be the one hardening her after all this crap, but the more she lingers on my mind, the more I feel myself going soft. It's almost... frustrating? She's cheery even down here. I'll look at her and expect to see her sad or defeated after all the shit I've torn her through, but she just smiles at me. She tells me to think positive and try not to be so negative. I can't help it, but... maybe I can learn.
    I make the engine growl a couple of times and glance around for any suspicious people lurking about. Any white people at least. There's a bar down the street, its small sign barely noticeable against the bright sky, but I remember it. I'll get information there.
    I glide my bike along the sidewalk and jerk it to a stop, dropping my feet to the ground in the same motion. I kick the stand down and shut the bike off, before throwing myself over the seat and climbing onto the curb. The door to the bar is heavy and cold air blasts my face as I pry it open against the pressure.
    It's dim, with no windows streaming light inside. It almost reminds me of the bar back in Arizona, but then again, any bar might do that to me. A couple of people turn and glance at me from their stools, but they quickly turn back to their beers once they get a good look. It's dead. I head up to the bar and sit on a stool, and the bartender walks over to me and greets me.
    " Hola, señor, ¿como estás? "
    " Bien ," I nod to him and lower my voice, " ¿Hables inglés? " He nods and I lean across the bar. "Have you heard of the Samson brothers?"
    His smile fades and he frowns a bit as I mention the name. He dips his voice low and peers at me. "Maybe I have. Why?" His accent is still thick, but not indecipherable.
    "They owe me something and I need to get in touch with them."
    "They're bad news," the bartender says, "I'd stay away from them if I were you."
    "Good thing you aren't me. Tell me where they are."
    He sighs and steps away for a moment, acknowledging the other customers who need new beers. I watch him refill their glasses and say something to them to the effect of "hold your fucking horses," which makes me smirk a little. He's on edge. When he returns to me, he puts his hands on the bar.
    "I think you should leave."
    This isn't getting me anywhere. I shake my head. "No, I need