Page 33 of Snared Rider

What. The. Hell?

“Coming to visit my family isn’t a fucking biker convention, Alistair.” I let out an irritated breath because I’ve heard this same shit my entire life. People don’t like what they don’t understand, and a group of people living outside society’s rules, with their own hierarchy, falls high on the scale of dislike. I’ve taken abuse about it my entire life, but I don’t expect to get this from my boyfriend.

“I get they’re your family, Beth, and that you love them, but the biker world isn’t really my scene. And let’s be honest, it’s not your scene anymore either.”

I’m not sure how I feel about his statement. I left because of my situation with Logan, not because I didn’t ‘fit’. I never once felt as if I didn’t fit. Did I want more? Sure. I wanted a kutte, I wanted to be one of the lads. I hated I couldn’t ride with them, but I never felt like an outsider. That I’ve given this impression does not sit well with me because I never wanted anyone to think I’m ashamed of who I am. I’m a Lost Saxons and I’m fucking proud of that fact.

“They’re my family, Alistair. And no one’s asking you to prospect for the Club.”

They never would either. Even if they liked him, he would not be a good fit.

He lets out a long huff. “I’m under a considerable amount of pressure at work; I don’t have time to deal with your tantrums as well. We’ll discuss this when you get home.”

Tantrums? Is he for real? It’s a good thing we’re having this conversation over the telephone because if he were here I would thump him in the mouth.

“What the hell makes you think I’m coming home?”

I hang up without giving him a chance to respond and toss my phone onto the passenger seat. Okay, so my reaction was not at all grown up, but I can’t help it. It’s like I don’t even know him. And he definitely does not know me. I grind my teeth as I try to control my temper. What the hell is his problem?

As I glance up, I catch sight of a familiar black four-by-four. My skin tingles as nervous energy washes through me. I know nothing about cars, so I can’t be sure if it is the same one I saw yesterday outside the garage, but it looks similar.

Maybe it’s just coincidence.

There must be tons of black cars like that on the road, right?

But an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach and I can’t help but think I’m being followed.

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