Page 96 of Snared Rider

“I was fine,” I assure him. “Aren’t you staying at the clubhouse though? Won’t you need this?”

“Don’t you worry about me, love. The room is yours as long as you need it. Why don’t you go and get settled? I’ll have one of the boys bring up your shit.”

I wave a hand at him. “I have one bag. I think I can manage.”

“You also have busted up ribs. Let the boys help.”

I roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness, but I don’t argue. I won’t win, so what is the point? Instead, I roll onto my toes and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks,” I say.

He pulls me into a hug, one that lasts a little too long, before he lets me go.

“You stay safe, you hear me?”

I nod. “You too.” I eye Derek, Slade and the other boys. “All of you.”

After I say my goodbyes, I leave the common room. I don’t head to the TV room though, I make my way to the offices.

The narrow corridor feels less claustrophobic than it did last night when Dean and Logan were trying to pummel each other into bloody pulps, but tension still seems heavy in the air. I ignore the sensation, ignore everything but the door to Logan’s office. Like ripping a plaster off, I have to do this fast. I need to break all ties with him, even if it is something as simple as giving him back a key. This is the first step to removing him from my life, and honestly, that is the only way I can deal with him and survive this trip.

With difficulty, I bend down and slide his room key under the gap in the door. Cowardly? Probably, but I don’t have the energy to talk to him right now.

Straightening, I turn and nearly clear the corridor when I hear the door opening behind me.

Shit!

I move a little faster, which is a feat given how much my chest is hurting.

“Beth.” Logan’s voice cracks through the air like a whip.

I come to a halt, wincing, and slowly turn back to him as he’s bending down to retrieve the key from the threshold of his office. When he comes back upright, I see the anger in his expression.

“Are you that pissed off you can’t even speak to me to return my key?”

I shrug because what the hell can I say? “I’m not pissed at you. Pissed would imply I care, which I don’t.”

As he twists fully to me I get a look at the damage Dean inflicted and it’s bad. His face is purple and black under one eye and his jaw is swollen. Not that Dean looked much better last night. Nor me for that matter.

Logan’s fingers reach out and I flinch as he skims the tips over the bruising on my face. His touch is electric and my body responds without permission. It takes all the strength I have to break that connection, but I do. I pull away.

“It looks sore,” he says, steeling his expression to hide the hurt that briefly flashes across his face.

“It is,” I admit.

He winces. “I never meant for you to get caught in the crossfire last night.”

“Well, you and Dean should have thought about that before you started brawling.”

He lets out a laugh, but there is no humour in it. “Yeah. I guess we should have.” His fingers run through his hair and I follow the movement, wishing it was my hand, my fingers, and cursing myself for the thought.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to talk to me, Beth.”

Not in this century.

“Says who?” is my response. It’s childish, but I don’t care.

He shows me just how frustrating he finds my answer by huffing out a breath. Then he takes two steps towards me, then another two. Unconsciously, I step back too, but he closes the gap between us faster than I can move. This close, this much in my space, I can’t concentrate. My brain is a muddled mess as I stare up at him. I wish I could switch off my feelings, but I can’t. It’s like muscle memory. When he’s near to me I can’t help but remember every caress, every kiss, everything.

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