Page 131 of Snared Rider

“No, but I know I’m not letting you walk out of my life a second time, so I’m going to bend over backwards to keep you with me.”

His words floor me and also fill me with the warm and fuzzies, but he’s not being sensible nor logical. This might not work out and then where will I be? Stuck in the same position I was at twenty: trapped in Kingsley with no way out, having to deal with Logan every day.

“Logan—”

He holds up a hand to silence me and I fall quiet. “I know you’re scared, baby; I am too. This is a big thing we’re doing here, but in all the time we’ve been apart my feelings for you have never changed—and judging from how angry you’ve been at me in that time I’m guessing you feel the same. Love like what we have, it doesn’t happen for most people.

“Letting you go was the single most stupid decision I’ve made in my life. I should never have done it and there was not a day that passed that I didn’t regret it, but we have a chance here to try again and I want to try. I don’t see us failing, because I’m not going to let that happen. I know you’re scared; I’m scared too, but I’d rather try than wonder what if.”

Oh. Lord.

There is a lot to digest there and my panicked brain doesn’t know what to focus on, so I go with the first thing that comes to mind: logistics.

“I can’t just pack up in the morning and be back here by the afternoon.”

“Why not?”

Well, why indeed…

“I’ll… I’ll have to give notice at work—probably a month. I can’t just leave. And I have to pack up the flat.” Not to mention it’s hundreds of miles from here to London, so it will take at least a couple of days to pack everything and then drive back. “Besides, I haven’t even decided if I want to move back here.”

He looks at me a beat, then says, “I’ll move to London then.”

I blink at him. Then blink again as my brain fails to take in his meaning. “You… What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, as if we’re discussing what to have for tea and not a life-changing decision. “If you want to stay there and keep working at your job, I’ll move to London.”

He says this as if it is the most straightforward idea. It is not. What he’s talking about is crazy with a side helping of crazier. It would mean leaving Kingsley and most likely giving up his position as Sergeant-at-Arms—probably his position in the Club itself. Derek will not want a patch he can’t rely on and how can he rely on Logan if we’re in London? It won’t matter that he’s family. The Club is a brotherhood, but it’s also an enterprise.

Conversely, the thought of giving up everything I did to get where I am today doesn’t sit right either. I worked my bum off to get into marketing and to get into a big agency. I grafted, worked late, did extra courses. Before I lived with Alistair, I rented a tiny bedsit that was not pleasant, so I could work and live down there (Dad tried to pay for something better, but I was on an independence kick).

But Logan’s sacrifice is greater. I can marketeer anywhere. It wouldn’t be on the scale of the agencies in London, but I can still do what I love. Logan would be rudderless because he couldn’t keep the Club and move.

I stare at the patches on the front of his kutte, my eyes scanning the ‘Sergeant-at-Arms’ patch before coming back to his face.

Yeah, his sacrifice would be far greater. In fact, it would affect us both because it’s not running away for a decade and coming back sporadically; it’s turning our backs entirely on the only family we have. I don’t know how that would go down with Derek, Slade—even my father.

“Logan… but the Club.”

He finishes chewing his food then puts his fork down on the side of his plate. “I love this Club, baby. I love it with everything I have. But I love you more. The thought of being without you again… I can’t do it. Not after having you last night, not after seeing how good it can be.”

I swallow hard.

“You’d give up your kutte for me?”

He dips his head towards me and smiles. “I don’t know why you’re not getting this, darlin’, but let me enlighten you: I love you and I’m not prepared to be without you another day. If that means I have to lose my colours and move to London, then I’ll do it.”

I gawk at him; I can’t help it. He’s serious. “You’re not leaving the Club.”

He sits back in his chair and reclaims his coffee. “That’s not your decision.”

“Uh, yeah it is. This is our family, Logan, it’s not just about—”

And that’s as much as I get out before the window at the bottom of the dining room suddenly explodes inwards. Glass flies everywhere, scattering over the tables and floor. It’s followed by loud, rapid staccato popping sounds.

The window next to it explodes and the one next to that and the one next to that in tandem with the bangs. I start to rise from my seat but something hard slams into me. The air is pushed from my lungs as my body hits the floor and strong arms wrap around me, encasing me protectively.

Logan.

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