Page 30 of Snared Rider
Logan’s attention gravitates to the scene unfolding on the other side of the common room. He shifts out of my space and reclaims his spot leaning against the wall. I hate Slade for distracting him.
“Prospect!” Slade yells again.
Jem, who is talking with Tap and two other patches, doesn’t react until Tap nudges him. It’s only then he realises Slade’s talking him.
“Fuck.” I don’t hear him say it, but even I can lip-read the word fired out of his mouth. He turns slowly to face his VP.
“Yeah?”
“You working tonight, or what?” Jem looks momentarily confused before Slade raises his pint glass. “I’m empty.”
It’s said partly in jest, but also with a hint of bite. I would feel sorry for Jem, but this is part and parcel of the prospecting term. They all have to graft to earn their colours, even those who grew up in the Club. No one gets a free pass. You want your patch, you do your time as a prospect, and you do it without complaining. Jem seems to take more than his share of liberties, however. He’s still in play mode and not work, something I’m sure Slade will not allow to go on for too long.
I guess the transition from civilian to brother is difficult. Before getting his kutte, Jem would have hung out most of the night with me and the other guys. As a prospect, he has work to do. Tonight, he’s manning the bar with Dean. At least he’s supposed to be. As far as I can tell he’s spent more time wandering around the main floor, talking to people while Dean does all the work. I guess it’s taking a while to get used to his new reality of being the Club’s bitch. I wish he would take it seriously. I would give my right arm to trade places with him. The Club gives him purpose. What do I have to give me purpose?
“I’m working. Definitely working, guv,” he fires back before pushing into the crowd in the direction of the bar. He receives back slaps and jeers as he takes his place at the beer pumps next to Dean.
“Poor kid,” Logan says with a grin that suggests he does not feel even remotely sorry for his younger brother. Considering he was in that same position not that long ago he probably doesn’t.
“Lo!” Derek’s voice carries across the noisy room as the Lost Saxons president raises a hand and signals for him to come to him.
Logan pushes up from the wall, brushing my arm as he moves.
Shit.
“I better see what Prez wants. I’ll be back.” He says the last bit in a heavily accented voice, giving me a goofy grin that makes me roll my eyes while laughing at him. He’s such a muppet—albeit a super gorgeous muppet that I can’t have and will never have.
I watch him move into the small huddle of men on the far side of the bar, and I can’t help but hate Gwen for what she has. Does she even understand how special Logan is? Probably not. Most people don’t know what they have, even when they should.
Logan laughs and as his warm gaze comes back to me my heart flutters. God, I love him.
But Logan Harlow will never be mine, no matter how much I want him. And the sooner I accept that the better.