Page 59 of Snared Rider

I blow out a long huff of air. “Why not? It’s the scenario that makes it easier for us both.”

“It’s the scenario that makes it easy for you, not me.”

“Well, since I really don’t care about making anything easier for you that’s fine by me!”

Without warning he wrenches the wheel to the side. I gasp, my hand going to the door, the other to the dashboard to keep from being tossed about. Logan stamps on the brakes, nearly firing me through the windscreen and then drags up the handbrake.

“Are you insane?” I hiss. And then all the breath leaves my body as he rounds on me—all six-feet-four inches of leather-clad muscle man. It doesn’t matter that he’s crammed inside a vehicle. He still fills the space and manages to look menacing.

“Let’s get one thing straight, yeah? I get that you’re pissed at me. I even get why. I did a stupid fucking thing, the worst thing I could have ever done, but Christ, Beth, how long are you going to make me pay for it? It’s been ten fucking years and you’re still breaking my balls over it.” His hands go into his hair, tearing at it. “I get that you hate me, that we’ll never be the same as we were, but this shit you’re giving me… I wouldn’t take it from any other woman and to be honest I’m done taking it from you. So, be angry, be angry for the next three decades if it makes you feel better, but you keep that shit to yourself from now on. I’m done apologising and if you aren’t big enough to take my sorry then that’s your fucking problem.

“Now, I have a shit-ton of stuff to get through today, so yeah, you’re coming with me to the clubhouse so I can get it done because, aside from babysitting you until we find this dickhead who took on Dean, I also have to protect the entire fucking Club. Since I take all of these tasks seriously you’re going to help me by doing whatever the hell I tell you to and you’re going to do it without complaining because if you don’t, I’m locking you in my room at the clubhouse and I’ll go and do whatever work I need to do while you’re safely behind closed doors, you understand me?”

I sit, dumbfounded.

There is a lot to take in there. Did he even come up for air while laying that out?

I blink. Then, I blink again. My anger, which had been flaring, flees, and in its place is a stunned silence I can’t penetrate.

He’s done apologising?

As far as I can tell he’s only apologised once and that was today. Okay, that’s not strictly true. He tried to reach out after I left for London. I wasn’t ready to hear from him, and so I pushed him away. There have been other occasions over the years where he tried to rebuild bridges between us but I’ve never allowed him to. And for good reason.

Being around him hurts too fucking much.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” My voice is a ravaged whisper.

“Beth—”

“Seriously, I can’t believe you! The audacity…” I shake my head. “You really are a piece of work, Logan Harlow.”

“A piece of work or not, I meant what I said. You do what I say or I will lock you in my room. I’m not getting Dean killed because I’m distracted.”

His words blow through my rage and my protestation. I feel the wind knock out of me as I imagine Dean lying on the ground by his motorcycle, blood streaming from his face. I blink away the images; I don’t want Dean to get killed either.

There are bigger factors at work here than my past with Logan, and if anything happens to Dean, or any of the brothers because of me I will never forgive myself. For that reason, I let go of my anger. Well, I let go as much as I can. I am only human, after all, and Logan is a massive shithead.

“Fine.” I shift in my seat, my gaze going to the window. “Just take me wherever the hell you want to take me. After all, you’re just going to do what you want anyway. It’s not like what I think matters.”

He curses under his breath, but he doesn’t argue back. Instead, he yanks the handbrake off and surges into traffic so abruptly I feel like I have whiplash.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach the clubhouse, although the atmosphere in the car is so thick it feels like eternity. I don’t speak, and I flat out refuse to look at Logan. He doesn’t offer conversation either, which suits me perfectly since I have nothing to say to him.

When Logan finally pulls the car up outside the compound, he uses a device hanging from his rear-view mirror to open the gate—much like Dean did the first night I came home. This time there is also a prospect manning the security hut by the gate. He leans his head out of the door and gives us a wave as the car passes him. I can’t remember if he’s King or Lucas—not that it matters. After this hellish visit, I’m never coming back to Kingsley again. Dad can visit me.

Logan slides the car into an empty space between two other vehicles and cuts the engine. Before I can blink, he’s out of the car and walking around the front bumper towards my side.

I don’t know why it surprises me when he pulls open my door and holds out a hand, but it does. Logan might be pissed off with me, but he would never leave me to struggle out of the car, no matter how much he probably wants to. Mary raised him better than that, and it shows. Yeah, he’s a criminal with manners. He’s a walking-talking contradiction.

“Do you want me to lift you out or do you want to use me to pull against?”

Neither, but I say, “Let me pull against you.”

For all my irritation, I’m grateful for his help. The pressure it puts on my chest trying to heave my body up is intense and it would have been a lot worse without Logan’s assistance.

Note to self: also take care when standing.

I had no idea how many muscles the body uses to simply move from sitting to upright before today and let me tell you it’s a fuck-ton.

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