Page 58 of Snared Rider

Chapter Fifteen

The restof the car journey passes in silence. I stare out the window, watching the unfamiliar landscape pass by until I see the tower blocks that make up much of Kingsley’s northern estates. The high-rise flats were built in the seventies and you can tell. They are solid, squat structures in stone so grey they meld seamlessly into the gloomy sky. Situated among the towers are two old collieries: Longshaft and Middleview. Both were dismantled in the eighties, but the latter was regenerated by Kingsley Town Council and turned into a museum not long after. Many school trips were spent at Middleview Colliery, learning the history of the coal industry and its subsequent decline.

Despite the deprivation, Kingsley itself is a relatively decent sized town surrounded by countryside. Its nearest neighbour is Mountgerald, which also has its roots in the coal industry. Unlike Kingsley, it evolved and developed after the collieries shut. Kingsley never seemed to get its shit together, meaning we were left with the ghost of what was once a thriving community.

To be honest, I have no idea how the Club has survived in this dead end place. Sheer force of will from president Derek Chambers and his officers is, I suspect, the main reason. The other is probably the drugs trade they run.

To my surprise, Logan misses the turn off for Dad’s house and keeps driving. I twist slowly in the seat, one hand on my ribs as the road fades into the distance.

“Uh, you’re going the wrong way,” I tell him, something he undoubtedly knows.

“I’m not taking you to Jack’s.”

His words both surprise and annoy me. I spin back to him, wincing at the pull on my ribs. Note to self: no sudden movements.

“Why not?”

“Because I need to keep you safe,” is his oh-so-bizarre response.

This explains nothing and only confuses me more. Can he not keep me safe at Dad’s? Not that I need him to keep me safe full stop. For the past decade I’ve been perfectly safe in London. It’s only since coming back here that I’ve encountered anything remotely life-threatening.

“And you’re taking me where exactly to do that?” I demand, a hint of hysteria in my voice.

He casts me a reproachful sidelong glance, one that tells me to rein in the crazy that is on the brink of being let loose, but I had this planned out and he’s messing with my plan. If I’m at Dad’s house I can hide from Logan in my bedroom (the junk room) until Dad comes home. I wouldn’t have to deal with him being in my face and confusing me. This unknown variable makes me anxious, particularly if he’s taking me somewhere I have no control.

“Logan?” I press when he doesn’t answer.

“I’m taking you to the clubhouse.”

This is not good news and is not what I want to hear. The clubhouse is full of nosey brothers and even nosier old ladies. Two minutes in mine and Logan’s presence and they will figure out something is going on with us. Christ, two seconds in our presence and that will be obvious. Neither of us is successfully hiding our feelings right now.

“Take me to Dad’s,” I say immediately.

“I can’t do that, love.”

“Logan, take me home, now.” I use my stern tone, the one I reserve for the interns at work. This would usually have them jumping to attention. Logan doesn’t flinch.

Bugger!

“Logan!” I grind out.

“As much as you think the world revolves around you, it really does not. There’s other shit going on that I need to deal with and since that shit is at the clubhouse that’s where we’re going.”

I open and then close my mouth. I’m big enough to realise the world doesn’t revolve around me and that there are definitely bad things happening that Logan, as Sergeant-at-Arms, probably needs to deal with, but his words piss me off.

“It’s not like any of this is my fucking fault, Logan,” I grouse, my attention going back to the side window. “It’s not like I asked to be almost bloody well killed. It’s not like I planned on spending the only vacation I’ve had in a year in hospital with broken ribs and the world’s worst headache. Hell, it’s not even like I asked to be dumped on you either, so don’t act like you’re the hard-done-by party here, buddy, because you’re not.”

I finish with a tut. Yes, an honest to God tut. I would blame the drugs in my system, but they were wearing off long before I left the hospital.

“Buddy?” Logan’s voice is laced with amusement.

I round on him. Joking will not help and I’m really not in the mood for it. “Look, this situation is not ideal for either of us, but it is what it is. I’ll do everything I can to keep the details of what happened between us secret because honestly I don’t need your murder on my conscience and I don’t want my father doing hard time for the rest of his life either.” Plus, I do not want all my family to hear the intimate details of my ultimate humiliation. “In return, I would appreciate you leaving me the hell alone so I can survive the next few days and return back to my life as if none of this ever happened. Deal?”

He doesn’t speak, simply stares out of the windscreen. I glance at his profile (and what a profile it is) and notice he’s grinding his teeth.

“Deal?” I repeat.

“No, Beth. No fucking deal.”

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