Page 136 of Snared Rider

Dean tugs at his beard. “B, this shit… it’s all my fault. And I’m sorry that you got dragged into it.”

I stare at him and the urge to unleash my rage at him is overpowering. Until I remember the reason Wilson is after Dean. Then, my anger deflates and my shoulders slump. “It’s not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s Wilson.”

“Yeah, and he’ll pay for what he’s done,” Dean’s voice holds the promise of violence. I would not want to be Wilson when the Club finally catches up to him. Then again, I really do not want to think about what the Club will do to him when they catch up with him. They hurt a brother, shot at the clubhouse and ran a brother’s daughter off the road.

Retribution will be vast.

Instead of letting those dark thoughts invade, I turn to Clara. “Is he going to be all right then?”

“He’s sitting right here,” Logan mutters.

“If he’s able to grouch, he’s fine,” Clara grins. “Besides, Harlows are near invincible, don’t you know?”

I appreciate her attempt at levity, but it does not ease the heavy ball weighting down my stomach. Worst case scenarios tumble through my mind as I watch her work.

“Is anyone else down?” Logan asks.

“Just you,” Dean says. “Rabbit was outside and got shot at but he wasn’t hit.”

Logan nods and I notice the film of sweat beaded on his top lip. I seize his hand, hating that he’s in pain. He again squeezes my hand but he’s in full crisis management mode, so when he speaks it is not to me, but Dean.

“Is the house clean?”

This statement is so odd, I frown. Who cares about the clubhouse being tidy? But Dean seems to know what it means because he nods to Wade who gets up and leaves the room.

“Are you clean?” Dean asks Logan.

“Yeah, I’m not carrying.”

I hazard a guess they’re talking about weapons. I know the Club has guns and other weapons. Dean returned fire on Wilson when we were knocked off the bike, but is the entire Club armed to the rafters?

“As fun as this conversation is,” Clara says, “We need to get him to the hospital before he destroys the tiles completely.”

“I’ll bring a cage around.” Dean starts to push up, but I seize his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t go outside.”

He glances at Logan, before bringing his attention back to me. “Darlin’, we need a car for Logan.”

“What if Wilson isn’t gone?”

“He’s gone,” he assures in a voice that leaves no room for discussion. “Everything’s going to be okay, Beth,” Dean promises, and I hope like hell it is a promise he can keep because up to now nothing has been OKAY.

He gives me a smile that I notice does not reach his eyes before he heads in the same direction as Wade, leaving me, Logan and Clara alone.

“Gunshots are going to bring the police,” Clara says quietly.

I slide my gaze towards Logan. She’s not wrong. Guns are not commonplace in the UK and while we’re a distance from the nearest residents we’re not completely isolated down here. The occasional dog walker does stray this far into the estate. Plus, the other Club-owned garage is here.

“Don’t worry about the fuzz,” he says.

Clara stares at him, then with strained patience says, “But if they come they’re going to ask questions. I need to know what to say, Logan.”

“You say you were in Slade’s room listening to music. You didn’t hear shit. You only knew there was a problem when Wade called you for help.”

Hearing the truth wrapped in lies spill from his mouth shocks me, and I realise how he was able to lie to me all those years ago. He is a consummate liar. It comes easily to him.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not naive; I know the Club bends the truth to fit whatever narrative it needs but hearing Logan coach Clara is disconcerting, maybe even alarming.

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