Page 165 of Snared Rider

I smack his arm, earning a dimpled grin. And that is knicker-melting, too.

“You know what I mean,” I tell him and he leans over me to press his lips to mine.

It’s a wet, deep and glorious kiss that involves a great deal of tongue action. It also ends far too quickly. Since I got out of the hospital, Logan has been treating me with kid gloves. This was fine for the first two days, but it’s wearing thin now. I don’t need babying and I don’t need him to be so gentle with me. I don’t call him on this though, because as bad as this incident was for me, it was just as horrific for Logan.

I don’t know all the details of what happened because Logan won’t talk about it and Dad can’t. Every time I mention Wilson he gets so angry I worry he’ll give himself an aneurysm. In fact, most of the lads are being tight-lipped about the whole thing, but what I gleaned was Tap saw Wade getting carted back into the hospital, covered in blood. Wade told him what happened before he passed out.

As for how Logan found me, I have no idea (and he still won’t tell me). I get the impression from something Jem let slip that his brother called in a couple of huge favours from people he probably shouldn’t have. When I asked Logan about it, he pleaded ignorance. I pressed him, but he kissed my head and told me to stop worrying about things I didn’t need to.

So, reluctantly, I stopped.

Really, I’m not sure I want to know what Logan had to do to get the information he needed to find me. I’m just grateful I have a man who would do everything in his power to save me. I worry about him, though. I hope he didn’t do anything too drastic.

As for how Wilson got Dean…

I suspect foul play. Judging from how cagey Dad and Logan have both been, I’m sure they do, too. Mackenzie told me there’s been several upgrades to security at the clubhouse over the past few weeks, including the installation of CCTV on the two gates into the premises.

But whatever happened and however it happened is irrelevant. What matters is Dean and I are both still alive and kicking. Even Wade, with a bullet in his gut, is recovering—although his road to health will be a long one. Considering I was sure that none of us were walking out of that shit storm, I can’t help but feel a little relieved that we’re all still here.

“Where’s Dean going? The clubhouse, or Dorothy’s?” I ask.

According to Mackenzie, Dean’s grandmother has been a mess. Unsurprising, considering Dean is her only living relative and she pretty much raised him. She also adores her grandson. I wanted to be with her, to support her, but in the end, my own injuries forced me to recuperate. Mary and Mackenzie took care of her.

“Dorothy wanted him with her, but Dean wanted to be at the clubhouse.”

“So, he’s going to Dorothy’s, right?”

Logan grins. “For two days. Then to the clubhouse.”

I mirror his expression. “So, are you driving me, or am I getting a taxi?”

He scoffs. “What do you think?”

“You’re driving me.”

“I’m driving you,” he confirms.

Dorothy Lawler lives about ten minutes from Grandad. This journey takes us past the Hazelwood Colliery, a place that will forever haunt my waking moments and my sleeping ones.

I stare out the window of Logan’s car, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me as I watch the colliery come closer and closer.

Logan doesn’t say a word, doesn’t offer reassurances. He just reaches out and grabs my hand, keeping his other on the steering wheel. Squeezing his hand gently, I can’t help but feel reassured and I take a deep, shuddering breath. It’s been two weeks since we were taken, but the incident is still fresh in my mind. I imagine it will be that way for a while.

What happened to Wilson is also something no one is talking about, but Logan made it clear he wouldn’t be a problem again. From this I deduced (not that I needed much power of deduction) that he met a sticky end.

Should I feel sorry about this?

Probably.

But I don’t.

The man tortured his wife, hurt Dean, Wade and Logan, and he hurt me. So, no, I don’t feel bad. What this says about me as a person, I’m not sure, but I don’t care about that either. Do bad things to people and karma will eventually get you in the end. Whatever happened to Wilson he deserved it.

Logan pulls the car up to the curb outside Dorothy’s house. I spot two bikes—Derek’s and Slade’s—parked on the path near the front door.

Logan cuts the engine, climbs out of the car and comes around to my side as I’m undoing my seatbelt. He opens the door and holds his hands out to me. I take them and let him help me out. Once I’m upright, he doesn’t release me but instead slides his arms around me and pulls me against his chest.

“I love you, darlin’.”

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