Page 71 of Snared Rider

No, I don’t think he’s going to forget or wave it off. I suspect he’s planning the many ways in which he can murder Simon Wilson. Probably slowly and painfully.

I tip my head back to stare up at the ceiling. This entire conversation is making my head pound.

“Wilson’s wife… is she okay now?”

While I don’t want anyone hurt because of me, I also can’t help but think Simon Wilson deserves whatever he has coming to him. Anyone who repeatedly beats their partner deserves everything they get.

“Olivia? Oh yeah,” Clara says. “She’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t give me more than this but it’s enough. Her words ease some of the tension in my chest. However, that nagging ache still remains underneath.

“Do you think Wilson is a real risk to Dean?”

She considers my question, then says,

“I think he’s obsessed with getting his wife back and he sees Dean as the person standing in the way of that goal. He’s going to do whatever he has to in order to get Dean to tell him where she is.”

I expected some kind of reassurance from Clara. Her words do not fill me with warm and fuzzy vibes.

A thought occurs suddenly, and this is not a good one either.

“Are you in danger? Because of your involvement helping her escape?”

She shakes her head, her blonde tumble of hair dancing around her shoulders. “Wilson has no idea about my involvement. Slade’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure that remains the case. As will Dean. But no one is taking any risks, which is why I’m also here.” She gives me a wry look. “You’re not the only one on lockdown, honey.”

I’m glad she’s on lockdown. While Slade will kill any man who touches Clara, sometimes bad things happen. At least here she is safe.

Clara’s lips turn down at the corner as she disappears into her thought for a moment. Then, she clears her throat and glances at me as she blows steam off the top of her coffee. “Anyway, enough about that. How long are you here for? I would suggest a girl’s lunch date before you head home, but under current circumstances…”

I doubt my father or Slade will allow either of us free rein while this mess is ongoing.

“Oh, um, until Sunday night was the plan, but…” I shrug my shoulders to indicate my uncertainty. “I guess a lot will depend upon this situation and how fast it gets cleared up.”

I hope it is fast because Alistair will lose his mind if I don’t come home tomorrow. My boss will probably be just as miffed if I’m not in work on Monday morning.

Clara worries at her bottom lip, pulling it between neat white teeth. “Well, whatever happens don’t let those men boss you too much, girl. They seem to forget we have minds of our own when they get into Neanderthal mode. Speaking of which,” she eyes my clothes. “I’m guessing those boys just dragged you back here and, judging from what the hell you’re wearing, didn’t give you time to get any of your things.”

I glance down at the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing and the joggers that are only staying up because they’re tied at the waist. I probably look ridiculous.

“I’ll ask Dad to get me some clothes when I see him next, but truthfully the thing I really need is a new phone. I broke mine during the crash.”

“I’ll ask one of the prospects to get you a new one.”

“I don’t need a new one, just something to tide me over until I can speak to my insurance company.”

I’m sure a homicidal maniac trying to murder me is covered under the accidental damage section of my phone insurance policy...

However, Clara waves this off. “Don’t be daft. You need a decent phone if you’re stuck on lockdown. Trust me, you’ll get cabin fever if you don’t have some access to the outside world.”

I smile at her. “Thanks. Just let me know how much it costs and I’ll transfer the money to you.”

Again, she waves a hand in the air. “No need, sugar. Club’s the reason your phone is broken in the first place, so the Club’ll see to replacing it. I’ll square it with Slade.”

The Club has always been the same. It takes care of its own. No matter how much I try to run away from Kingsley, there’s no running away from who I am.

I am a Lost Saxons.

I may not wear the kutte or ride a motorcycle but I am Club. I’m ashamed I’ve kept my distance from these people, from my family, for so long. I hate that I allowed my situation with Logan to create this chasm. I owe these men and women more than just a fleeting visit once a year.

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