Page 48 of Snared Rider

My bottom lip moves between my teeth. Fuck. “It’s in the car.”

“The car that Ryan the wanker is driving home in?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that’s just fucking perfect. Sit tight. I’m on the road in ten.”

“You’re coming here?” I sound hysterical, but that is probably because I feel it.

“Too right I am.”

“Logan, you don’t need to come here. Just send me the money.”

“You think I’m trusting you’ll get home safe after this? You’ll probably end up in fucking Cornwall.”

This is a distinct possibility. I’ve only ever travelled with Dad or other people from the Club. I’ve never left Kingsley alone—until now. Despite my assertion to Logan that I am an adult, I’m secretly glad he’s coming so I don’t have to deal with this situation alone.

“What room are you in?”

Since I already gave him the hotel address, I don’t see the point of withholding this information. He’ll find me without the room number if necessary. “It’s room number four.”

“Okay, darlin’. Do not fucking leave the hotel, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“And we’re going to talk about this shit when I get there.”

The line goes dead.

I hang up the phone and flop back on the bed. Crap. I’m in so much trouble. I can already feel the wrath Logan is going to rain down on me when he gets here.

With nothing to do but wait (and worry), I watch TV. Exhausted from the events of today and the stress of being abandoned in a big city, I struggle to stay awake. I’m half-asleep when there is a rapping on the door. I jolt fully awake and sit up so fast it makes my head spin.

“B? It’s me.” Logan’s voice sounds muffled behind the flimsy wood and I let out the breath I was holding.

He’s here; I’m safe.

Without hesitation, I scramble off the bed and run to the door. Then I pull back the chain, unlock the door and drag it open.

He’s standing on the other side, his dark hair pushed back in a way that tells me he’s been running his fingers through it, which he only does when he’s stressed. He’s not wearing his kutte or leather jacket but a zip-up hooded sweater in dark red, a white tee peeking out beneath. His jeans are belted at the waist, and a chain spans around the top of his right thigh from front pocket to back.

His eyes drift over my face, taking in my appearance and his jaw tightens. I’m still in the skinny jeans and off the shoulder top I wore to the concert. It’s not revealing, but the way he’s looking at me right now, with silent disapproval, makes me feel like I’m in a mini-skirt and bra.

Logan pushes into the room and I step back to accommodate his presence, which makes the small room seem even smaller. He kicks the door shut with a booted foot, using more force than necessary. I wince as his gaze snaps around the space, taking in the rumpled sheets on the double bed, the chipped bedside tables and worn looking dresser before bringing his attention back to me.

And he looks pissed off.

“You okay?” His question is filled with concern but his eyes flash anger.

I nod, my arms wrapping around my middle. I’m not okay, not even close. I am relieved though. I can’t help but be. I was scared, I’m not going to lie. I had no idea how I was getting home, if I even could get home. That feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

My bottom lip wavers and I pull it between my teeth, trying to keep control of my roiling emotions, but I can’t. A tear slips free, then another. Logan watches this, his jaw twitching.

“I’m going to kill that fucker.”

He opens his arms and I go to him without question. He pulls me against his chest, one hand going to the back of my head, the other around my back. I sink against him, feeling safe for the first time in hours.

“I’m assuming the room is booked for the night?”

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