Page 2 of Snared Rider

I’d been lucky to get that much time off, so it would have to do. My boss, Jan, was not keen on letting me go, but I convinced her. The only reason she authorised my leave was because I told her I can work remotely while I’m away.

Dean stares at me for so long I shift under his scrutiny. Then he says, “I’ve missed you, Beth.”

The tension in my shoulders disappears and I can’t help it; I grin. “I missed you, too.”

And then I’m in his arms. He pulls me against his chest and I can smell the leather of his vest, the aftershave he always douses himself in, and the smell that just is Dean Lawler. I relish the contact, the familiar embrace and sink into it. God, I have missed him. I didn’t realise how much until this moment, but being in his arms, against his chest feels so good I don’t want it to end. Unfortunately, it must and he’s the one who ends the hug by pulling back from me.

“You can’t leave it this long between visits, B.”

This statement—unlike the others—doesn’t annoy me, even though I know it is a jab at my lack of visiting this year.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s been hectic at work the past few months and before that Alistair was wrapped up in family stuff.” I stop talking because I’m doing what I said I wouldn’t do: explaining. “I’ll try to get up more. You know, you lads could always come to visit me.”

He snorts and holds a hand out for my bag. I oblige, slipping the straps down my shoulders. He doesn’t explain his response either, but he doesn’t need to. The Lost Saxons are Kingsley men. This is their domain. They rarely stray outside their patch, and for a good reason. It opens it up to a hostile takeover. However, the boys have ridden south a few times in the past twelve months. Dad and Grandad came to visit me twice last summer.

“You still with that dickhead?”

I bristle at his calling Alistair a dickhead, even though Alistair is a dickhead. He made that case before I left London. The blazing argument we had was not fun. It left me wrung out, drained and with a headache to rival all headaches. This made the train journey complete and utter hell.

Still, I say, “Don’t call him that.”

“I say it how I see it.”

“You do realise you’re not my father, right? That you don’t have any say on who I date.”

He snorts at my statement, the meaning clear: it’s irrelevant. The bonds of family are fluid in the Lost Saxons’ world. Brotherhood is the foundation of the Club, so because Dean is Club, as am I, that makes us family. Blood is not important. Families are built in our world, not born.

He is the closest thing I have to a brother, and it’s a role he fulfils whether I want him to or not. We were both Club brats under the watchful eyes of the old ladies (wives and girlfriends of the patched members) and a host of pseudo-uncles who thought it was their jobs to look after us. Dean’s just two years older than me, so of all the Club’s kids, he (and once upon a time Logan) is the patched brother I feel the most affinity towards.

“Come on, B, let’s get out of here.”

He drapes his arm over my shoulder, the other hand clutching my rucksack, and steers me towards the gated exit.

“Are we going straight to the clubhouse?”

“Yeah. Everyone is itching to see you.”

Which means Clara Thomas, Mary Harlow and Dorothy Lawler have arranged a party in my honour tonight.

Great.

The last thing I feel like doing is drinking. What I really want is a good meal, a hot bath and my bed.

But resistance is futile.

My family will do what they think they need to do to welcome me back into the fold—even if I’m only here temporarily.

I force a smile. “Well, we better not keep them waiting.”

Dean grins at me. “You could try to sound more enthusiastic.”

“I am enthusiastic!” My tone is defensive, which only makes Dean grin harder.

He pushes the gate open. It creaks so loudly I’m sure the hinges are only being held on with rust, and we walk towards the car park. I’m surprised to see three cars but no motorcycle.

“You didn’t ride here?”

He shakes his head. “I figured you’d have luggage. If I’d known you were packing this light I’d have brought the bike.”

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