Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

“She’s not walking,” Troy interjected. “I’ll take her where she wants to go.”

“Right, I’m fuckin’ done,” Gage hissed.

“Oh fuck,” Lucky muttered.

“You’re not takin’ her anywhere,” Gage growled at Troy, ignoring Lucky. “And you’re takin’ yourself off our fuckin’ property. And I’m not gonna stay here while you try and tell me that I can’t threaten an officer. Because I did and I will. You touch her again, I’ll kill you.” He didn’t even pause before he snatched my hand and dragged me out of the garage before I knew what was happening. “I’m taking you where you need to go, babe. Don’t give a fuck about where you want to go.”

I watched Troy try to go after me, but Lucky and Brock both managed to stand in his way. I wondered if Lucky would talk his way out of an arrest. I hoped neither of them got in trouble because of me.

Then again, I didn’t need to worry about them getting in trouble.

I needed to worry about myself, and how much trouble I was already in.

Like being dragged across the parking lot by a man who looked like he may very well kill me.

“Let me go,” I hissed at Gage. But I didn’t struggle.

Why wasn’t I struggling?

“No, you lost your fuckin’ chance at that the second you put your foot in this compound,” Gage said, his voice hard, flat. “Now you’re in Hell too.”

I screwed up my nose at his words, at the ridiculousness of them. The promise of them. Because his grip on my arm, his eyes on my body, sure as shit didn’t feel like Hell.

It felt like Heaven.

But wasn’t that the trick of the Devil? To make someone comfortable in their torment so they couldn’t get out before it was too late?

It was only when we crossed from concrete to grass that I realized Gage wasn’t throwing me out of the compound as his face and brutal voice had communicated.

No, we were approaching the building that was off to the side of the garages, with a wide porch and grassed area, flying the same flag as the image on the back of the leather cut I was staring at.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I demanded, still not struggling.

Why was I not struggling?

Maybe because it would hurt my aching body to do so. Though his face, his voice, and his words were violent, his touch wasn’t. He was somehow grasping me hard enough so he could drag me, but not so much as to jerk my sensitive body.

I would not have expected that, a gentleness amongst the violence.

Yes, that’s why I’m not struggling, to take care of my body, I lied to myself.

Because even if I was protecting my body by letting him drag me up the steps and into the clubhouse, I sure wasn’t protecting my mind.

We entered a large living area that smelled faintly of smoke and spirits, but also tinged with lemon, telling me this was where the bikers partied, but someone cleaned it too.

Evidenced by the freshly vacuumed dark carpet. The relatively nice sofas surrounded a large television. There was a well-stocked but tidy bar off to the corner, some hallways leading to what I guessed were the kitchen and other rooms, and a large door with a sign reading ‘Church’ atop it.

The space wasn’t full of people passed out or half-dressed as I had expected. Instead, there was a beautiful woman on the sofa, smiling at a little girl sitting on the floor and drawing in a book. The woman’s emerald eyes went to Gage, then me, and instead of looking shocked by a large and menacing man dragging a woman kind of against her will, she smiled.

“Cade, honey?” she called. “You totally owe me. I told you Gage would be next.” She had an unusual accent that curled around the words in a way I couldn’t place. Or wouldn’t have been able to had I not known she was from New Zealand. Because everyone knew about the beautiful Kiwi woman who had caught the most ruthless man in all of Amber and married him.

A man appeared from a hallway, a small child attached to his legs. Another man I’d seen around. And he was a man you saw. Because he was big. Tall. Tattooed. Muscled. Long, dark hair. Dark features. One of the most stunningly beautiful men I’d ever seen.

Before Gage, of course.

He was the president of the Sons of Templar.

You weren’t a resident of Amber without knowing about Cade Fletcher.

He was notoriously cold and ruthless until his pretty wife had come along.

And now he was slightly less cold and ruthless, as the story went. He was a husband and father who had almost lost everything when someone tried to kill Gwen when she was nine months pregnant. They’d ended up shooting Steg, the previous president, and she’d had to kill the attacker. Before giving birth in this very clubhouse.