Page 20 of Snared Rider

“Dean told me about the garage.” I change the subject because it’s too upsetting to think about Grandad being in that state and not be able to help him.

Dad smiles. “Yeah, the lad deserves it. He’s a grafter. I think both garages could do with some of that on-the-line marketing stuff though.”

I nearly snort the coffee I’d just taken a sip of out of my nose. “You mean online marketing,” I correct when I can breathe again.

Good God.

Dad waves a hand absently. “Yeah, that. Both businesses are doing well, but it’d be good if we could drum up some new trade. Dean seems to think we need to do this on-the-line stuff to get our name out to a wider customer base. I don’t understand it, but he says that’s what we need.”

My mind is already working, thinking about social media and affiliate marketing campaigns we can try. There’s lots I can do to help them, if they’re open to try new things.

“Well, you’re speaking to the right gal. This ‘on-the-line’ stuff is what I do all day.” I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat infuse my hands. “I’ll speak to Dean.”

“Great.” He surprises me by reaching across the table and seizing my hand from my cup. “It’s good to have you here, girl.”

I force a smile and spill my lie. “It’s good to be here.”

I am the worst daughter on the planet.

There’s a knock on the front door and I’m actually grateful for the interruption so I can drown in my guilt without an audience. I glance at Dad who puts down his cup and then I watch as he disappears up the hallway towards the front door. As I sip my coffee I can hear low voices talking, but I can’t make out the words. Dad reappears a moment later with Slade, and another man I recognise from last night as Wade. He moves to the stool he just vacated to pull on a pair of socks.

Wade stays near the door, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. I’ve only spoken to him once before, so he doesn’t give me much of a greeting beyond a chin lift and a muttered hello. It’s a shame he’s Mr Monosyllabic because the man is hardly difficult to look at.

He’s around his mid-thirties with long hair that touches just below his shoulders and is pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck. He’s not rocking a beard like most of the other brothers but is clean-shaven. As much as I’m a beard fan, I have to say he looks bloody divine without. In fact, he looks like he should be in a catalogue, rather than a biker club. That is until you take in his apparel. He’s wearing a thick hoodie under his kutte with the phrase ‘Ride or Die’ splattered across the front.

Cheery.

Slade, on the other hand, I’ve known more or less my entire life, so he moves to my side and presses a kiss to my temple.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Thanks for last night,” I say and am rewarded with a grin.

“The least we can do for our girl’s homecoming, but it’s Clara and the other old ladies you should be thanking. They put that whole thing together.”

This does not surprise me; the women put together most Club events and for good reason. Most of the men couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, although they will happily turn up and drink all the booze.

“Well, I appreciated the celebration.” I make a mental note to stop by at some point and thank Derek as well. The Lost Saxons’ president most likely paid for the whole thing.

“You’re welcome, darlin’.” He leans a hip against the edge of the counter as Dad moves to pull on his boots.

“Do you boys want coffee?” I gesture over my shoulder. “The kettle just boiled.”

“No time,” Dad says, sliding off the stool, his boots now on his feet. He plucks his kutte off the peg near the back door. “We’ve got to head out, love. Do you think you can entertain yourself while I’m gone? I’ll be back around six, so we can eat together if you want.”

“I’ve managed to navigate my way around London for nearly ten years, Dad; I think I can manage Kingsley alone for a day. I’ll see you tonight.”

Dad shrugs into his kutte before he comes around the edge of the kitchen island and presses a kiss to my hair. In that moment, I’m suddenly a little girl again and I feel the distance between me and my father as a physical thing. He doesn’t notice my inner turmoil as he pulls back, grabbing his phone off the counter and slipping it into his jeans pocket.

“Any problems you call me or one of the boys.”

What problems he thinks I can possibly have in Kingsley I don’t know. I’ve been living in one of the most crime-ridden places in the country for years without a problem. I don’t say any of this, mainly because I do not want to give Dad a coronary.

“Will do. See you later.”

After Dad leaves I get my laptop out and check my emails. Anything to keep my mind off the duel problem of Alistair and Logan. I swear my life would be less complicated without men in it.

I scroll through my inbox absently, my mind half on reading the correspondence and half on what to do about my boyfriend and ex-boyfriend issues. While I wasn’t enthralled about coming here in the first place, Alistair’s outright meltdown about me leaving his side for ten days was over the top and a little concerning. Don’t get me wrong, he’s always had an element of control freak about him but trying to guilt me into staying home is not right, nor fair. What to do about it is another matter, and one that will require some thought.

I find a couple of emails from my boss, Jan, about a client brief that needs doing by tomorrow. For an hour I work on this, and once I’m happy with it send it back to her. I’m just drafting a reply to one of my contacts about their account when there is a knock on the front door. It’s probably Dean, at least I’m hoping it is. Even though I still have the remnants of my hangover (the paracetamol-ibuprofen cocktail I took earlier did not completely kill the pain), the thought of getting on the open road today fills me with nervous excitement. It’s been so long since I last rode I’m not sure I’ll remember how.

I close the lid of my laptop and pad barefoot down the hallway towards the door. I peer through the peephole and see it is not Dean but Mackenzie Harlow: Logan’s younger sister.

Shit.

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