Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

The kiss was quick, hard, and closemouthed, but it was firm. It communicated something.

Ownership.

“Gage, you can’t kiss me in front of my grandmother while shirtless, seconds after you’ve met her,” I hissed when he released my lips, my voice not as sharp as I would’ve liked thanks to the fact that his kiss had the same qualities of Xanax. Well, the qualities I imagined Xanax might try to mimic poorly.

“He can and he did,” my grandmother interjected when Gage didn’t respond, merely stared at me as if he was etching my face into his mind. “And boy, do I approve.” Her slow clap echoed in my head as I tried to pull away from Gage.

He merely pressed his lips against my head and tucked me into his shoulder. My body sagged against him, coming alive at his touch, inside his embrace.

My grandmother’s face was beaming behind her coffee mug. Yes, she was delighted at seeing me be ordered around and manhandled and kissed in front of her.

“This is like Christmas, Easter, and Mardi Gras all rolled into one,” she exclaimed, then focused on Gage. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see a man abandon the laws of decency and french my granddaughter in front of me.”

Gage’s chest vibrated with his low chuckle.

“Glad I could be of service, ma’am,” he replied, his voice a low rasp, but also somehow lighter than I’d ever heard it. Almost playful. Almost carefree. But it would always be almost for Gage.

That thought was a razor against my soul. The scarred arms, brutal and stark in the morning light, showed the truth. They would be the immovable force, creating the almost happy, almost carefree, the completely broken.

The lightness on my grandmother’s face disappeared and she narrowed her eyes at Gage’s words, but not for the same reason as me. “Now, I like you, so I’ll not be scooping your eyeballs out with my sugar spoon for calling me that,” she said with distaste. “I give one free pass. Don’t make me do it. I’m sure you’re attached to your sight.”

Gage’s eyes found mine, twinkling and hard at the same time. “Increasingly so,” he murmured.

A blush crept up my neck, his words and gaze almost chasing away the pain of before.

Almost.

“So he lost the bet, I got to use his private jet for a month, and I thought what a perfect place to make my last stop,” my grandmother said, sipping at her second cup of coffee. The one she’d put a serious dollop of whisky in, from the bottle she always carried in her purse “for emergencies.”

She winked at me. “And don’t worry, I got you some great souvenirs. Asia has some excellent skincare and makeup. And I know how much you love those products, even though you don’t buy them for yourself, because you’re so sane and sensible.” She groaned the words like they were worse than eating non-dolphin-safe tuna.

Her eyes touched on Gage, who, surprisingly, was still there, chatting with my grandmother, sipping on his own coffee—sans whisky—and holding me like it was natural. Normal.

But there was nothing normal about the two people in my kitchen.

Two people who were important to me.

Grandma had been in my life for as long as I could remember, so that made sense.

Gage had been in it for less than two weeks. That did not make sense. But he was still important. Gaining more crucial status with every minute those scarred arms stayed around me. With every second he didn’t make his excuses and escape. Because it was what most men would’ve done. Most men who didn’t plan on being permanent.

My heart fluttered at the thought.

“Well, you’re not completely sensible and sane,” Grandma murmured, eyes still on Gage. “And it’s just wonderful.”

Gage’s arms flexed around me, the energy coming off him changing slightly.

“I can’t wait for you to tell me all about this,” she said, waving her free hand at us. “When the man in question is out of earshot, of course.”

That strange energy coming from Gage dissipated slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Is that your way of tellin’ me to fuck off, Anna?” he asked.

I jerked. “You can’t curse in front of my grandmother!” I hissed before she could answer.

“Of course he can. I expect nothing less,” she interjected. “Not everyone has a mouth like a choirboy, Lo,” she said. “Swearing is fabulous. You should try it some time.” She winked. “And yes, young man, as much as I thoroughly enjoy the company, and the view”—her eyes pointed to his torso in a way a grandmother should not look at the man her granddaughter had slept with the night before—“I need some serious deets, and it won’t work as well with Lauren being all awkward and quiet with you here. She’s already going to be awkward and quiet enough without you here. I’ve got my work cut out for me.” She winked at me again as I pressed my head into Gage’s shoulder for some kind of solace. “But I expect you back here so I can take you out for dinner.” She paused. “That’s unless you have some kind of rival gang to give a beatdown to, or something to blow up. In that case, we’ll make it a late dinner and you can take me along. I do love an adventure.”