Page 86 of Snared Rider

“That implies I did something wrong,” Logan counters. “I didn’t.”

Dean’s eyes narrow and I hold my breath as his gaze locks on me. “Jesus fucking Christ; he’s why you ran away, isn’t he?”

Uh…

“What?” I stall for more time, so I can think of a more appropriate response, but my brain chooses this moment to go on holiday. There are no thoughts in my head. None whatsoever.

Brilliant.

“He’s the reason you left and stayed away, isn’t he?” His hands go into his hair. “You fucking piece of shit. What did you do to her, Logan?”

And again, I find myself stuck between two men determined to kill each other. Logan doesn’t hesitate; he pulls me out of the way (not too gently, I might add). The momentum causes me to stagger and I just about keep my feet. Logan’s attempt to protect me from harm means Dean gets the first punch in without meeting resistance.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh is loud in the silence of the clubhouse. The two men are wild, unrelenting and vicious. Punch after savage punch rains down between them and within a matter of seconds they’re both bleeding: Dean from the nose, Logan from a split in his lip. My body and brain suddenly catch up, and I realise they’re going to kill each other if I don’t do something.

“Stop it!” I yell, frantic.

Terror rolls through me when my pleas fall on deaf ears. They just keep pounding each other with meaty fists. Then Logan seizes Dean’s shoulders and rams him against the wall so violently the air is forced from his lungs.

This is happening because of me (and, if you want to get technical, because of Logan), and I hate it. I hate that they are at each other’s throats because of what I did with Logan a decade ago. Both these men are important to me in their own way; Dean is family and he’s someone who has always been there for me, even when I haven’t necessarily always been there for him. In fact, I’ve been the worst friend ever over the years and yet Dean still wants to defend my honour. I don’t deserve his championing.

Logan…

He’s a lot more complicated. Part of me wants to hate him, but I can’t. No matter how much I want to I just can’t. We were, at one point, friends. That was how we ended up in bed together. We spent so much time in each other’s company when we were younger, I guess it was inevitable we might one day cross that line from friends to something more. I didn’t expect it to take as long as it did, but I don’t regret that it did either.

I don’t think either of us were ready to be more until that night—the night he rescued me from London after the concert. That was when everything changed. After that he didn’t look at me like a friend. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole.

And I wanted him to.

I’d never been in love before; Christ, I’d hardly dated before Ryan. When your father is a member of one of the most notorious motorcycle clubs in the area, boys avoid you.

But this meant when I found myself in Logan’s arms I was naive, and I was wrapped up in the emotions of it all. He’d probably deny it, but I think he was, too.

Did I expect things to go as far as they did?

Hell no.

Do I regret it?

Well, that depends on what day you ask me.

Whoever invented the phrase ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’ clearly never had their still-beating heart torn from their chest before getting it stomped on because that is how I felt after Logan ended our relationship. In fact, I wished I’d never laid eyes on him. And that feeling persisted for a long time. It may even still persist. I don’t know anymore. I’m so muddled up.

One thing I do know is no matter how angry I am with Logan, I don’t want him hurt, and I do not want Dean injured either. However, the way this is playing out they’re both going to end up in the hospital.

This thought is given flight when plaster falls from the wall as Dean powers Logan into it. Forcefully.

Ouch.

Forget the hospital, it’ll be a trip to the mortuary because they are going to kill each other.

I hear a door open behind me and turn just in time to see Wade peer around the door jamb, a pair of headphones around his neck. Even from here I can hear the music blaring through them, which explains why he didn’t appear before now.

Wade’s expression registers surprise as he takes in the scene before him, but his muttered, “What the fuck—?” is lost in the fracas.

I drag my eyes from him, my focus returning back to the two men wrestling each other in the narrow corridor. It’s stupid because really what the hell can I do against these overgrown men? I’m five-six and a hundred and twenty-five pounds (a hundred and thirty, if I’m being honest). I have no upper body strength, which has never been an issue before. Right now, I wish I hadn’t skipped arm day at the gym so much.

I grab Dean’s bicep, my hand barely spanning the muscle and yank. He doesn’t move, just keeps pounding on Logan with his right fist.

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