Page 85 of Snared Rider

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dean isn’t lookingat me; he’s glaring at Logan like he wants to put his head through the wall—at force. In all honesty, I’m not sure who would win if it came down to a battle of strength. Logan is a huge man, standing at least six-foot-four with arms like tree trunks, but Dean isn’t small either. He’s a few inches shorter, but he’s a bruiser when it comes to fighting—at least he was when he was younger; I’ve not seen him in a fight for a long time.

I swallow hard, glancing between the two men as temperatures reach boiling point. This is not good, not good at all. For years I kept the sordid details of mine and Logan’s affair secret. Having it stripped back bare—particularly in front of Dean—is physically painful.

“You fucked Beth?” Dean repeats, stepping towards where Logan and I are standing. I’m already between the two men, as I’m in front of Logan, but I twist to the side so I can keep an eye on them both.

“Whatever Beth and I did or did not do is none of your business.” Logan’s voice is hard, but his words are quiet. The set of his shoulders signifies how much Dean’s words have pissed him off.

“Not my business?” The growled response makes my blood chill, but Logan meets Dean’s gaze with an unflinching resolve. The tension is thick, so thick I can practically feel it pushing against me.

This situation has the ability to get out of hand fast, and these men are not wallflowers; they’ll fight and they’ll fight dirty.

I need to stop them.

I raise my hands, one in Dean’s direction, one in Logan’s.

“Okay, both of you, let’s just take a breath. Dean, Logan’s right: this isn’t your business. Logan, blink or something. That staring thing is creepy.”

Dean’s eyes snap to my face. “A brother fucks another brother’s daughter—a daughter I think of as a sister—and that’s not my business? That’s not everyone in this Club’s business.”

I can’t help but think who I sleep with is no one’s business but mine. Dean clearly does not agree.

“No, Dean, it’s not your business. It’s my business.”

When in the hell did it become a rule that being with a brother’s daughter was an offence? Christ, if that had been enforced Dean would not exist. Neither would the Harlow kids. Both Ivy Lawler and Mary Harlow (Dean’s and Logan’s mothers) were patched members’ kids. They had no qualms about getting with patched members.

“When did this happen, B? When did this piece of shit fuck you?”

“You keep talking about me fucking her like she’s some Club girl,” Logan snarls, “and I’m going to smack you in the fucking face.”

Dean glares at him. “That’s what you did though: you fucked her. If you hadn’t she’d be on your arm, wearing your fucking property patch. You would have told every fucking brother in this Club that she’s yours. So, what did you do: shag her and drop her?”

This is not what happened although it’s not far from the truth. We’d shagged a lot, then he’d dropped me.

The sound that comes out of Logan’s mouth is so feral, so enraged, my stomach clenches and my heart stutters. He moves like lightning, but I’m ready, expecting it, prepared.

I throw myself against him, both hands in his chest, shoving him back. It’s like hitting a titanium wall.

Logan lowers his head to look at me, then says softly, “Move out of the way.”

I shake my head, worrying at my bottom lip. “No.”

“Please move, Beth. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“The only person getting hurt here is you,” Dean counters, and I twist to look over my shoulder, shooting him a reproachful glare. Seriously, that attitude is not helping.

“Since this involves me, Dean, and I’m fine about it all,” I lie, “you can just back off and calm the hell down.”

“Fine?” Dean scoffs. “You’re not fine. Hell, you’re not even in the same postcode as fine. I heard what you said to him, B. I heard it all.”

Oh my God!

I make a mental note to have a word with Dean about listening into private conversations—when he’s not trying to kill Logan.

“What you heard was me letting off steam. That’s all.” I give him a small smile. “I’m grateful you want to fight all my battles for me, but seriously, I don’t need you to.”

Dean’s eyes slide from me to Logan, dismissing my words in one gesture. “When did this happen?” Logan doesn’t answer. Dean laughs a derisive sound, his tattooed arms crossing over his broad chest. “Are you not going to defend yourself?”

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