Page 113 of Snared Rider

This is the first step in ‘letting go’.

“I’m not,” he repeats, when I don’t speak.

I can’t help it, I risk glancing up. I wish I hadn’t.

Logan’s dark hair frames his face in a way that makes my stomach flip. He looks so unbelievably handsome right now, even though he’s only in his kutte, a plain grey long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. He doesn’t wear designer trousers or fancy shirts like Alistair. Logan’s wardrobe is built for practicality and I find it much more alluring. He is built, bulky and he looks like the type of man mothers warn their daughters about.

I stop my thoughts in their tracks because this is a dangerous path to tread. I can’t let myself be swept back up in the chaos that is Logan Harlow.

Oh, hell.

I clear my throat and stare intently at my coffee, my hands wrapping around the mug.

“Any word on Wilson?” The hopeful tone in my voice is clear. I can’t stop it; once Wilson is found I can get the hell out of town and away from Logan.

And go where?

Since I ended things with Alistair last night I am officially homeless. The apartment we live in (apartment, not flat) belongs to his parents. Even on my fairly substantial salary I can’t afford the prices in London on my own, meaning I’ll need to share or move somewhere cheaper. Dad had a shit-fit about me moving to Chelsea, which is laughable given where Alistair and I live—lived—costs an arm and a leg.

Can I do it alone though?

Do I want to do it alone?

Is my job enough to keep me in a city where I have few friends and no roots?

Kingsley may be rough around the edges, but I have people here who love me, who care about me. The thought of spending more time with Dad, with Grandad makes me feel something I haven’t felt for a long time: happy.

I’ve missed Mackenzie too, and Dean (even if he currently doesn’t like me very much), but coming back means trying to get work, which could be difficult. I’ll probably have to live with Dad for a while until I get sorted. I don’t want to encroach on his life and I’m not keen to return to the father-daughter thing where he treats me like I’m fifteen.

And then there’s Logan.

In Kingsley there is no escaping how our lives are entwined. Can I hack that? Can I deal with seeing him every day?

I don’t know.

“Wilson’s in the wind.” He surprises me with his candid reply. I thought he would trot out the ‘Club business’ line.

“So, what happens if Wilson stays in the wind? I can’t just hide out here forever. I have a life to get back to.” A lie I’m slowly coming to hate.

“We’ll find him,” is his infuriating comeback.

“Yes, but what if you don’t?” I press, because that might happen. He’s alluded them so far, despite the entire Club searching for him.

But Logan simply looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Babe, we’ll find him.”

I gloss over the fact he calls me ‘babe’, and I ignore the fact I like it.

“When? This week? Next? In a month? Two?”

Logan scrubs a hand over his jaw, and I try not to think about how much I like that simple gesture either.

“In the unlikely event he continues to elude us, we’ll have to come up with a different plan.” He takes a sip of coffee. “But since that’s not going to happen it won’t be a problem.”

“What about work?”

“You have a two-week sick note, right?”

“Well, yeah—”

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