Page 145 of Snared Rider

Chapter Thirty-Four

After speakingto Dad I head back to Logan’s bedside. Ironically, they put him in a cubicle two spaces over from where I spent my last hospital visit. At this rate, we’re going to need a wing for the Club.

Upon arrival at A&E, the receptionist told me they have a backlog of patients, so it could be a while before they get to Logan. A nurse packed the wound enough to keep him from bleeding all over the place and stuck him behind a curtain to wait for a doctor to stitch him up.

When I duck back into the cubicle, he glances up from the bed, relief evident in his expression. He’s in the same position as when I left to speak to DCI Morgan: lying on the far-too-narrow trolley on his left side. His top is off, revealing his tattooed chest, but his jeans are still on. His sock-clad feet, as usual, overhang the end of the trolley. This, he tells me, is the curse of being six-foot-four.

He glances up as I tug the curtain back around the cubicle to give us privacy. I’m concerned by how pale he is under his facial hair. In fact, the only colour he has are the bruises given to him courtesy of Dean.

I see the relief in his face as he takes me in.

“I was two minutes from coming to find you.”

“I’m fine.” I brush Logan’s hair from his face, smiling at him. “And don’t you dare get out of that bed until a doctor says you can.”

My chest tightens when he doesn’t return my smile, and I notice the tension around his eyes. The reason for this is explained with his next words.

“Did Morgan give you shit?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, and Dad stopped it before it got too intense.”

“Jack’s here?”

“He was. He’s doing something with the boys to work out how to get us out of here safely.” I sink back into the chair I occupied before I left to talk to Morgan. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I have a piece of glass in my back,” he says wryly. He’s putting on a brave face, but I can tell he’s suffering—not that he will ever admit that.

“Do you need more pain relief? I can ask one of the nurses.”

“No, I’m hazy enough as it is. I want to be alert.” His gaze slides towards the nurses’ station, his lips curling down. “Any idea how much longer this shit is going to take?”

“I don’t know. I can find out.”

I start to push up out of the chair, but his hand snags my wrist, stopping me.

“No, you don’t go wandering on your own.” His tongue dips out between his teeth to moisten his bottom lip. “Is no one else here? I expected to see mum flapping around.”

“Tap and Wade are here. The rest of the Club is on lockdown,” I tell him.

Tap and Wade are manning the waiting room in case Wilson does something stupid, like come here to finish what he started. The rest of the Club is working on getting the brothers and their families somewhere safe.

“Then why are you still here?” This is not said with spite, but genuine concern.

“They couldn’t pry me out of here with a crowbar.” He gives me a look that suggests he’s not in the mood for levity. I sigh. “It’s a logistics thing. No one knows how to get me out without risking life and limb yet.”

“Great,” he mutters, sounding anything but pleased.

I’m hardly jumping for joy myself.

“Any word on Wilson?” he asks.

“If there is, no one is telling me anything. As a card-carrying member of the Club you might have better luck finding out.”

For a moment the silence is deafening. It feels awkward, different than before. In the heat of the moment things seemed straightforward, easy. Now, in the starkness of the hospital room I can’t help but second guess everything. Are we rushing back into things? Is he having doubts? Am I?

“I’m glad you’re all right,” I say finally, just to say something to break through the silence. “Although you probably shouldn’t make a habit of throwing yourself into the path of lethal trajectories.”

“Yeah, don’t worry; any acts of bravery will be thought through more carefully in future.”

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