Page 25 of Snared Rider

Dean swings the bike into a space near the door. Once we come to a complete stop I slowly peel my bum off the seat, use his shoulders to hoist myself up and climb off the back. The ride was, as always, thrilling and I feel the adrenaline still coursing through me as my feet hit solid ground. My legs tremble a little beneath me and I can still feel the vibrations in my limbs, even though I’m no longer on the bike.

I’m tugging my head free of the helmet as Dean turns the ignition off and kicks down the stand.

“You grin any wider, princess, you’re going to dislocate your jaw.”

“Well, it was fun,” I say, my helmet hanging from my fingers as I use my other hand to smooth my helmet hair. “You’re one hundred percent taking me out for a longer ride later in the week though.”

He pulls his own helmet off and grins back at me. “Deal.”

I wait as he climbs off his Harley and secures both our helmets to the lock on the bike.

As I’m standing there waiting for him, a chill runs up my spine and I’m filled with sudden unease. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, standing to attention and my stomach fills with ice. I don’t understand where it comes from, but the sensation is too intense to ignore, so I don’t.

I glance around, trying to pinpoint the source, but I see nothing. Other than me, Dean, Weed and the other mechanics, there are no people around, but on some primal, instinctual level I know we’re being watched.

“You okay?”

I jolt at Dean’s voice, snapping out of my preoccupation.

“W-what?”

“Are you all right?”

I nod because telling Dean I think we’re being watched when there isn’t a soul around is crazy. “Uh, yeah, honey, I’m fine.”

Even as I say this my eyes slide back to the road and continue to scan. I can’t shake the heebie jeebies.

“Beth? Darlin’, what’s going on?”

“I just…” I’m being daft. There is nothing to worry about and I’m not telling Dean otherwise. I force a wide smile and say, “I’m fine.”

He clearly does not believe me because his gaze moves to the street as his eyes narrow. It’s then a black four-by-four pulls out from between two parked cars. My relief is powerful. Okay, so that’s why I thought we were being watched.

My relief is short-lived when the vehicle takes off with a squeal of rubber. It’s destroyed even further when I turn back to Dean. His eyes are locked on the speeding vehicle and his jaw is so tight I think he might break his teeth.

“Dean? You know that driver?”

He sniffs, pulling his attention back to me as the vehicle disappears around the corner. “Nope.”

What. A. Little. Liar!

I glance back at the road with a frown.

“Was he waiting for you?”

As I meet his gaze, Dean gives me a broad smile. It’s too broad, and I see through it immediately.

“Why in the hell would anyone be waiting for me?” he snaps.

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. He grabs my elbow and firmly tugs me towards the office.

“Come on, B; let’s get inside, yeah?”

I’m worried enough that I allow him to guide me into the office. I want to push Dean for answers about the car and its driver, but Dean is relaxed, which makes me finally relax.

I push the incident out of my mind and focus on planning the garage’s marketing strategy for the next six months. We get through a surprising amount of work and I have several things I can try to increase their productivity. Dean promises to get in touch with a firm he knows to revamp the signage and I agree to write some promotional text he can use on the website.

Maybe I’m being cynical, but I can’t help but wonder if Dad asking me to look at the garage’s marketing is part of a wider plan to show me life in Kingsley can be lucrative—at least from a business perspective. It is a fruitless task, however. I can’t stay here, even if I want to. I made my bed years ago and I’m prepared to die in it. And sometimes living so far from home and everything that is familiar to me feels like dying.

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