Page 82 of Snared Rider

This makes my stomach roil and my head spin. I knew I could be a target—Dean said as much last night—but hearing Logan say it without filters makes every inch of my skin crawl.

“We’ll find him, brother,” Wade asserts. “He won’t touch her. He won’t touch either of them.”

I make a mental note to do something nice for Wade before I leave town. I’ve spoken to him a sum total of ten seconds and yet he’s willing to throw down to protect me…

It blows my mind, but it shouldn’t because this is how it’s always been. Club is family, no matter how long you’ve been Club.

The two men fall silent and I hear movement in the direction of the door.

Shit.

Time to get moving. As fast as I can with my injuries, I move towards the end of the corridor. My heart leaps into my throat as the door behind me clicks and swings open.

Bloody hell!

Busted.

I halt as Logan steps out into the corridor.

I was not eavesdropping. I was not eavesdropping. I was not eavesdropping…

I probably have this tattooed across my forehead. Guilt washes over me and my face feels like it is on fire. I shouldn’t have been listening in. More to the point, I shouldn’t have got caught listening in.

Schoolboy error.

Logan jolts to a stop as he catches sight of me, surprise registering on his face. He handles it better than I would have. I would have shrieked like a B-movie bimbo in a horror film if I was him, but he takes my loitering in the shadows in his stride.

It’s at this point, I should run, but I don’t. I’m frozen in place and can do nothing but watch as he pulls the door to his office closed and closes the space between us in a couple of strides.

As he crowds me, I resist the urge to step backwards, and force my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Are you all right?” He scans my face, the lines around his eyes tight. Concern. He’s concerned. I don’t know how that makes me feel. “Do you need something?”

“I—I was…” Oh God, Beth, get a grip. “I woke up and it was really quiet. I got scared.” I ramble.

Why in the hell do I ramble when I’m nervous? I wish I didn’t. Really, I wish I didn’t because often what comes out of my mouth are things I don’t want to admit.

Logan doesn’t speak, he just stares at me in a way that has my skin tingling. Belatedly, I remember I’m standing in front of him braless.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to disguise the fact I’m naked beneath my T-shirt. Standing here, boobs swinging in the breeze beneath my borrowed clothes makes me feel exposed. This is ridiculous, given I’m fully dressed.

I should have changed after Rabbit brought my things because I’m also in danger of losing my jogging bottoms. I didn’t have the energy; I’d been dog-tired.

I also wish I had not admitted to my fear (why did I say that?) because he’s looking at me as if he wants to comfort me and I don’t think I can take it from him right now.

“But, you’re here, so it’s fine,” I hasten to add. “I’m going to go back to the TV roo—”

He seizes my wrist before I can flee, stopping me in my tracks. “Babe, you don’t have anything to be scared about.”

I wish my stomach didn’t flip-flop when he calls me babe, but it does. It always did and always will. I love how it sounds in his gravelly, deep voice. And I hate that I love it.

I also hate that he releases my wrist so fast. I feel the loss of his touch deeply.

“You’re safe here, Beth. There’s three prospects on the gate and walking the perimeter. Me and Wade are both inside the building, so is Dean. Clara’s in Slade’s suite but she can take care of business better than most brothers. You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about, I promise.”

I flinch slightly as he lifts his hand, bringing it to the side of my face. His touch is so familiar, so warm, so inviting. I can’t help but lean into it. Then his fingers move into the hair at the side of my head and I’m drowning. I’m transported back to a time when I needed his touch like I need oxygen. The pain in my chest now has nothing to do with my broken ribs and everything to do with my heart shattering into a million shards because what we had cannot be recaptured and what is broken cannot be fixed.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, he adds, “I’ll protect you with my life, Beth, I promise you that.”

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