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pangs a bit with regret, but I bite back any impulses. I can’t throw her to the dogs yet. I need to see what she told the police. I have to repeat this reason to myself as I start up my motorcycle and peel out of the parking lot, because I know deep down, it’s just a weak-ass excuse. I don’t know why I feel like this.
    It’s her eyes I really want to see again. And if I’m being honest, her body. She was pretty breathtaking, even standing on the side of the road. Those pouty lips trying to hide her anger at me for daring to approach her. Was it anger? It has to be more than her body though, I couldn’t risk my loyalty to the crew over something like that, could I? Nah, of course not.
    Surge knows I got her information... he’s known me long enough. Right?

CHAPTER 5 — CASSIE
    A nother uneventful day at work, and I get home to find Sara locked in her room again. I tip toe up to her door and plant my ear on it, feeling snoopy for eavesdropping. I can hear her giggling, and it sounds like she’s on the phone, until I hear a low growl of a voice. I instinctively know it must be Mark, since she was talking about him, but for a split second, my heart skips a beat as I imagine it’s the motorcycle rider moving in on my roommate. I choke back spit and pull away from the door, suddenly aware of how hungry I am.
    It’s nearly sunset. I usually get home earlier than this, but Becky had me stay to help get two dogs back to their owners across town. Usually we wouldn’t do something so extravagant, but Becky insisted. Something about them being extremely valuable and high-paying. Not to me, of course, I don’t see a dime. Nothing more than the eight fifty I get an hour.
    I set a pot of water on the stove and flick on the burner. Since Sara made me pasta the other day, I’ve just been on a kick. As the water starts to simmer a bit, I get a strange feeling. The man in the room with Sara chuckles a bit louder, and she squeals. I roll my eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised at how thin the doors are in this place.
    What if it isn’t Mark? What if it is... Logan? His name is on the front of my mind, but I pretend I don’t remember. Hell, if I can't be honest with myself, what am I doing with my life?I feel sheepish and a bit weird about it really... He’s nothing like I thought he would be when I first saw him. The low growl of his voice, his surprisingly bright eyes. I haven’t been able to keep my mind off him since the accident.
    A pounding on the front door drags me from my daydream. A quick glance out the living room window reminds me of the timid duskiness outside, and if Sara’s friend is already here, who could it be? I peer through the peephole and see someone’s back, outlined from the weak apartment lighting. Not just anyone’s back, but a strong, muscled, leather-clad back with a skull and fangs. My heart starts racing, and I have to control my breathing. Is it really...?
    I keep my eye fixed out the peephole, and after a moment, the man shuffles and shrugs. He turns toward the door to knock again. It is him. The biker. What’s he doing here? Is he going to make me pay for what happened?
    I panic. Should I let him in? The pot of water in the kitchen starts steaming and boiling over, but I can’t even think about it for more than a split second. What would Sara think if she comes out and sees him? What about Mark? I bite back a grin as I imagine Sara losing her shit, and Mark pissing himself at first glance of the tattooed and ripped biker standing in our living room.
    After a thought like that, can I really resist? If I don’t answer, will he just think I’m a coward anyway? Just because my heart is racing doesn’t mean I’m scared.
    He knocks again, and I back away from the door. I run my fingers through my hair and try to make it look a bit perkier. Washing dogs all day isn’t exactly a recipe for winning a beauty contest. Before I lose my nerve, I grasp the handle and pull the door open quickly, but I