“He thinks I know what happened to Wilson.”
Logan doesn’t say anything, just scans my face.
“He’s dead, right? Wilson’s dead.” I probe, even though I know the answer to this deep down.
Logan told me previously that I don’t need to worry about him anymore, that he’s no longer a problem. I took this to mean Wilson’s as dead as the proverbial dodo. I didn’t ask more at the time, but now, with this guy hanging around, I want to know for sure.
He still says nothing.
“Logan?”
“You’re not going anywhere alone while that fucker’s sniffing around, you hear me?”
Translation: no way is that question being answered. Plausible deniability.
I pull free of him and sag back against the seat. “You’re right: this shit never ends. I still vote after we get married, we go on a ride. A really long ride. It feels like we never get a break,” I complain, sagging back into my seat.
“Yeah, but we can face anything together.”
“You say this now…”
He grins. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop whining.”
I glare at him. I think I’ve earned a lifetime of bitching.
“Why? I like whining.”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
“It suits me fine. I’m an excellent whiner.”
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, then you should probably stop insulting me. You don’t know what I might do.”
He merges the car back into traffic and heads towards the clubhouse, a place I’m starting to think I should just move into permanently. I’ve spent more time locked down here since I came back to Kingsley than I have anywhere else. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I’m feeling dramatic right now.
Logan guides the car inside the gates, and finds a parking space before he cuts the engine. He waits for me to climb out of the car and takes my laptop bag from me. Then together we walk into the building. Derek is in the foyer, sitting on the ratty old sofa.
Logan stops, pulling us both up short.
“You okay, Prez?”
Derek’s fingers tug at the threads on the arms of the chair.
“Hmm?”
“You okay, Derek?” Logan repeats.
“Oh, uh…” He glances around as if realising where he is before his eyes come back to us. “Yeah, just having a quiet moment to myself.” His eyes slide to me. “How’s Jimmy doing, Marie?”
I glance at Logan who is frowning, but doesn’t say anything at the fact he just called me by my middle name (and my grandmother’s name).
“He’s making the nurses’ lives miserable.”
His lips kick up at the corner. “Sounds about right.”
I watch as his eyes slide around the space, as if he’s not entirely sure where in the hell he is for a moment before coming back to Logan. “You good for that job tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Lo says. “Let me get B settled and then we need a chat.”
Derek nods. “I’ll be in my office.”
Pushing to his feet, he straightens his kutte and says, “Tell your grandad I’ll stop by tonight, Bethany.” Okay, back to the right name, even if he did full name me.
“Yeah, I will do, Derek.”
I watch him push through the door and then turn to Logan.
“He seemed out of sorts.”
“There’s a lot of shit going on at the moment, darlin’.”
There is, but I wonder if there’s more to it than that. He really didn’t seem himself at all. Then again, his right-hand guy and best friend of decades just murdered his traitorous other best friend in cold blood. Dad’s head is a mess. Grandad, a guy who founded the Club he now runs, is in the hospital and nearly died. His members are baying for blood and are divided. He has a rogue member on the lam and the police are still sniffing around…
Yeah, okay, I can see why he might be distracted.
We head into the common room and find Charlie and Rabbit loitering near the bar. Logan digs out his bike keys.
Handing them to Charlie, he says, “I left my bike outside Beth’s office. Pick it up for me.”
“Do you want it bringing here or to your flat?”
“Here.”
“Sure.”
“Prospects are such good little minions,” I say as we head back out of the common room and deeper into the clubhouse, my hand slipping into Logan’s as we walk. “Maybe that’s what I need in the office.”
I definitely need someone to sort my filing system. I’ve only been in business a few months and already it’s a disaster.
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on reception, so that you’re not alone up there.”
“I was joking,” I tell him.
“I’m not. I don’t like you being there on your own. It’s not even like you can be seen from the street. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking when I rented that place.”
“That it’s on the high street, cheap and a great space.”
“Yeah, it’s also a fucking security risk. I didn’t think you’d be inviting clients up there, though.”
“Um, what did you think the meeting room was for?”
“I don’t know, B. I’ve never been in an office in my life.”
This is true; he patched into the Saxons from the moment he left school.
I stop walking and glance up the corridor to make sure there are no unfriendly ears. We appear to be alone, so I say, “Honey, I have to meet with clients. It’s part of the process. It’s expected.”
His free hand, the one not holding me, rakes into his hair—a sure-fire sign my man is stressed.
“Yeah, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have suggested that unit. I thought that place was perfect for you because of the double doors. Two sets of locked doors were secure, but they’re not so fucking great if you’re taking strangers up there. One way in, one way out.”
I frown at him. Did I not explain to him that I would need somewhere to meet clients? Maybe I didn’t. I was so excited.
“Okay, well, I need to meet clients there.”
“Then you need someone with you when you do.”
“Logan—”
“Babe, I don’t want to be overprotective or a dick, but this isn’t up for discussion. Someone needs to be with you. Or you get a receptionist, an assistant, someone to make the fucking tea—whatever—but you don’t meet people alone there. If Kenz hadn’t messaged me when she did, if I hadn’t been as close to town as I was, fuck knows what would have happened with that cunt.”
“Brosen just wanted to scare me, Lo.” I have no idea why I’m trying to reassure him because he’s right.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want you scared, Beth, not ever. I definitely don’t want you scared in a place where you’re supposed to be doing shit you love.”
Okay, that’s a fair point.
“He’s an anomaly. Clients aren’t going to be like that.”
“How do you know? People aren’t always good, B.”
“Well, that’s awfully cynical.”
“It’s realistic,” he counters. “You need someone in that office if you’re meeting clients there.”
“The business isn’t making enough for that yet.”
“I’ll float it until it is.”
“Logan… no.”
“Financially, I can take the hit. I can’t come back from something happening to you, though.”
Hell’s bells.
“Fine.”
“Baby, don’t get mad at me for loving you.”
I let go of my anger at that because how can I be mad at him when he’s saying things like that? “You’re a control freak, do you know that?” I mutter.
“Only when it comes to you.”
He grabs the back of my neck and tugs me to him, then he devours my mouth.
Chapter Nineteen
There is nothing quite as humiliating as being dressed in suspenders, a ‘Bride to Be’ sa
sh, and sky-high heels while holding a giant inflatable penis. The only saving grace is I’m sitting in Lace, so the only people who can see me are the girls. I might die if I was being forced to walk around Kingsley town centre.
It’s Sunday night, so Lace is shut and the strip bar has traded tits for dicks for the night. There are banners along one wall with ‘Happy Hen Do’ on it and there are others with ‘A Toast to the Bachelorette’. There’s a few helium balloons as well and the table set up in the middle of the floor has hundreds of tiny metallic penises scattered on the top. Sofia even presented a dick cake to me earlier.
I’m sensing a theme.
Logan is also off on his stag do. I have no idea what the lads will do for him, but I’m guessing his bachelor party will be nowhere near as tame as mine. I’m hoping he doesn’t end up naked in Amsterdam. The brothers tend to go a little crazy when it comes to partying. Then again, they also can’t organise a piss up in a brewery; the women arrange all their parties and they haven’t been involved in this one at all.
Even so, I have to admit, I’m worried.
Jem, as Logan’s best man, has been in charge of organising it, which could be catastrophic. With Jem, it’s hard to tell. I’m hoping Adam will rein his two older brothers in, but that’s unlikely. The three Harlow boys can be a nightmare when they get together. I have no idea how Mary coped with them all when they were kids.
“You’re frowning again,” Mackenzie signs at me.
“I’m worried what your brothers are doing,” I sign back, rather than trying to voice my fears, so the others can hear.
She shakes her head before raising her hands. “Don’t worry. They won’t do anything bad to Logan, not with less than a week before the wedding.”
I seriously hope that is the case. I may have to kill them otherwise. I do not want him to call me from a foreign jail. I take a breath and focus on the glass of prosecco in front of me. Logan is a big boy and can take care of himself.
“Kenzie said you were visited by a P.I.” Sofia’s question brings everyone’s attention around the table directly to me.
I glare at Kenzie.
Big mouth.
Honestly, is nothing sacred?
“I’m not sure we need to talk about this now,” Kenzie signs.
But Jamie reaches for the chips and dip, saying, “What the hell did a P.I. want?”
“Can we not do this now?” I say, mainly because Liv is sitting at the table and the guy wanted to know what happened to her ex-husband—the ex-husband I’m more than certain the lads bumped off.
She surprises the hell out of me by saying, “He’s looking for Simon.”
All eyes snap to her. It would be comical if it wasn’t so serious.
“What?” Clara demands at the same time Sammy asks, “Your nutty ex?”
Mary decides to be the adult and say, “Girls, I’m not sure we should be talking about this at Beth’s hen do.”
But no one listens to the Harlow matriarch.
“He accosted me outside the supermarket this afternoon,” she admits, her hand resting on the top of her baby bump.
“Fuck, does Dean know?” I demand, my heart racing at her admission.
Cornering me is one thing, cornering a heavily pregnant Liv is another. Brosen was not entirely friendly in his dealing with me. He was downright obnoxious. He scared the shit out of me, in fact. Logan showed up and forced him to leave, but why was Liv alone in the first place? I know the boys are scaling back on the protection stuff (they can’t keep it up forever), but I can’t see Dean leaving Liv exposed like this.
She bites her lip which is all the answer I need.
“He’d lock me in the house if he knew.”
She confirms my suspicions. Dean does not know.
She’s not wrong; he would, and for good reason. Liv’s just entered her seventh month of pregnancy and given how things started out with that baby, Dean has every reason to be overprotective. Liv only found out she was pregnant after Wilson tracked her down and beat her so badly he put her in the hospital.
“I didn’t want to miss tonight,” she adds, then says quietly, “I’ll tell him though. I don’t like to keep things from him.”
He’s not going to be happy she kept this from him for even this length of time, but I don’t say this; no doubt Liv is well aware of what Dean’s reaction will be.
“Why were you alone in the first place?” Sofia asks the question circling my brain.
Liv shifts uncomfortably. All eyes come to her as everyone around the table waits for an answer.
“I nipped out for five minutes to grab some milk. It seemed crazy to bother a prospect or a brother to come over for that. I know it was stupid, but things have been quiet lately. I thought it would be okay. I didn’t expect to get accosted.”
It was really very stupid, and Dean will hit the roof when he finds out. Berating her isn’t going to help, though, so I hold my tongue.
“Why’d Brosen come to you?” I ask. “You weren’t the last person to see Wilson. I was.”
Officially at least.
My last memory was of Logan beating the shit out of Wilson as the Club rode up. After that… well, things are a little hazy.
That’s not what I told the police, however. My official story is a lot vaguer and doesn’t mention the Club at all.
“The P.I. is working for Simon’s parents.” She winces, colour staining her cheeks pink. I’m not sure if she’s embarrassed about her past or this current situation. “I don’t think he’s interested in me. I filed for divorce months ago and had to disclose my address on the paperwork, so he could have turned up then. He’s just looking for Simon. Reading between the lines, the police investigation has stuttered. He’s poking around for any information he can find.”
It’ll continue to choke. I’m pretty sure Simon Wilson is never coming back.
“Did he hurt you?” I demand.
She shakes her head. “I was in a public place.”
“What a piece of shit,” Sofia mutters. “It’s not enough you had to go through all that crap with your ex, now you have this arsehole harassing you.”
Mary reaches over and takes Liv’s hand, squeezing it gently.
“You need to tell the boys. They need to be able to look after you, sweetheart.”
“I will,” Liv promises. “Believe me, I’m not taking any more chances. The man wasn’t aggressive anyway; just forceful. I don’t really know what I can tell him. The last time I saw Simon was weeks before everything happened in the colliery.”
Her eyes meet mine briefly before guilt flashes there. Oh, fuck, girl. No, no, no. I hate that she still blames herself for what her crazy ex-husband did to us. She was as much a victim of his antics as we were. She didn’t ask to be abused by him for years, she didn’t ask for him to follow her to Kingsley and lay into her like he did. She didn’t ask for him to shoot Wade and take me captive. She didn’t ask for anything that happened.
I give her a look that I hope conveys exactly all this without a word. I’m tired of having the same conversation with her. She needs to damned well get over it already.
“We all just need to be vigilant,” I say, dragging my gaze from her to address the others. “This guy is like a dog with a bone and he’s not scared of the Club. Logan practically smashed his teeth in, and he barely batted an eyelid.”
Paige, who was not around for the Simon Wilson saga, glances around the table, “Okay, someone is going to have to fill me in on all of this.”
“Liv’s ex is a nut who went on a two-week rampage that concluded with him beating the shit out of Liv before shooting up the clubhouse, injuring Logan, then abducting Beth and Dean and putting a bullet in your man,” Sammy explains like she’s talking about the weather. “That’s the short version.”
Paige’s brows arch before she whispers, “Holy shit.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Tap and Dylan used that situation to create chaos to further their own agenda t
o destabilise the Club, but you know about that part, since you were involved in that bit,” Sofia adds.
Sammy reaches for a chip, dipping it in the salsa. “You know, just another day in the life of the Lost Saxons.”
Wade’s sister, Piper, who has travelled up from Manchester for the weekend, is sucking absently on a dick shaped lollipop. Although she got used to the crazy antics out of this lot when she was here for eight weeks after her brother got shot by Wilson, she looks a little bemused by the entire exchange happening around her. She hasn’t spoken much all evening. In fact, she’s been pretty quiet since she got here. I hope she’s not feeling weird. I know Piper wasn’t keen on the Club life when she first came to Kingsley, but we got her to a good place with us before she left to go home last time.
“Well, at least it’s never boring,” Jamie leans back in her chair with a wiggle of her brows.
“I’m fine with boring.” I tell her. “In fact, roll on boring.”
“You’d die with boring.”
“I would not.”
“Girl, ten minutes of boring and you’d be throwing yourself into the trajectory of something dramatic. You can’t even walk ten paces without something happening to you.”
My eyes go to the ceiling before coming back to her. “I don’t go looking for drama. It just… happens.”
“Yeah, yeah. At least you have Mr Tall, Dark and Brooding to save you from the drama. Me? I’m out there alone facing it. Shark food, that’s what I am. While you’re being stalked around town by the hotness that is Logan Harlow, I’m being followed by Rabbit or Charlie. Hell, yesterday, I had Lucas on my arse all day. He’s a little weasel. I couldn’t get Jem or Weed, or even King. Fucking Lucas. The guy is a miserable bastard with the personality of a damp sock. Jem on the other hand—close your ears Harlows—is sex on legs.”
At least I now know Lucas is still around. I did wonder what happened to him after his disappearing act when he was supposed to be watching me.
“Oh my God,” Mary mutters looking like she would like the ground to swallow her whole.
“Is it time to cut the cake yet?” Sofia demands briskly, getting to her feet, glaring at Jamie.
“Absolutely,” Mary replies, and I get the feeling she’s wishing she gave this entire evening a wide berth.
Renewed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #4 Page 17