Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC 5)

“No,” Gage replied roughly, his voice jerking me back to the present.

I glanced at his profile in the cab of his truck. “It’s a secret?”

Gage kept his eyes on the road. “No secret. My shit’s my shit. I keep it tight,” he replied.

“Are you going to tell me that if I tell anyone, you’ll have to kill me?” I asked, only half joking. I had an inkling that Gage wouldn’t hesitate in killing someone. Maybe not people he cared about, but something about him was chilling. At the same moment, I felt weirdly at ease around him. Maybe because I, like him, was fucked-up. In a way there was no going back from.

Gage looked at me sideways. “Tell people. Don’t tell people. I don’t give a fuck. Though, I doubt you’re around anyone to be runnin’ your mouth. You’ve shut yourself off from everyone. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I get it.” He paused. “It’s just harder being alone with your problems. Took me a fuck of a long time to realize that.”

I chewed over his words. “Why are you taking me? Why are you here?” I asked finally, deciding not to talk about the being alone part. That I’d be going it alone as soon as I could muster the courage to get back on stage again. Earn again.

He met my eyes. “Been through a lot of shit, babe. Shit that would give most normal people nightmares rest of their life.” He moved his gaze to the windshield, seeing something other than the road in front of us. “That day. A month ago. It was some shit. The worst kind. I admire the hell outta you. You’ve managed to somehow get back on your feet after that. But I’ve been worried ’bout how long you’re gonna stay upright without someone steppin’ in,” he paused again. “Not talkin’ ’bout your girls, know they’ve got your back. I’m talkin’ ’bout someone who knows what it’s like to crave the needle. The fix. Crave it more than your next breath. Don’t know what the other hell you’re going through is like.” He visibly flinched. “Can’t imagine it in my own nightmares. I can’t see how dealing with those demons, plus the hunger for the fix, is taking you anyplace good. So I’m here,” he explained.

I stared at him for a long moment, a prickly sensation under my skin at the fact he’d taken it upon himself to help me. To be there for me. It was foreign. Unwelcome. And at the same time, it filled me with warmth.

“Thank you,” I whispered finally, looking out the window. “I’m not closing my eyes or chanting, and if anyone tries to hug me I’ll throat-punch them,” I added defiantly as we pulled into the parking lot of a church.

Gage surprised me by chuckling. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” There was a small silence as he parked beside a beat-up Camaro. He turned to me. “I don’t expect anything from you in there.” He nodded towards the building. “No one does. You choose how this works for you. You sit, you watch, you listen. You feel like it, you talk. You don’t want to, fine. But you will come with me every week, we clear?”

I swallowed the angry retort that was almost instinct at anyone ordering me around, especially an alpha male. This wasn’t someone ordering me around because of some freak gene. “Okay,” I said quietly.

Gage seemed surprised at my placid response, but then he nodded. “And don’t worry. No one’s getting close enough to breathe on you,” he declared fiercely, surprising me with the intensity in his voice. He opened his door. “Let’s go.”

Lucky

“We finally found the connection between Carlos, the Tuckers, and how they’ve suddenly got enough resources to start a war and then turn to fuckin’ ghosts,” Cade declared, leaning forward and clasping his knuckles together. His hard gaze flickered around the table and settled on Lucky.

Lucky didn’t have a reaction, not visibly at least. He might have clenched his fists, gritted his teeth hard enough to shatter, but nothing else. Inside, the fire of his fury blazed as hot as it had for the past month.

“Devlin,” Cade continued simply, and the entire room turned wired.

Brock’s face turned into a mask of fury. Obviously this was the first the VP had heard of this. Only Steg, sitting on the other side of Cade, looked like he wasn’t shocked at this knowledge.

“That’s not possible,” Brock ground out. “I slit the fucker’s throat myself.”

Something danced behind Brock’s eyes. A shadow of what Lucky was doing the tango with. The fear and rage that came with knowing someone fucked with your woman.

Cade regarded him evenly, but it was Steg who spoke. “Fucker had a son. One who’s obviously been building up the remains of the empire we shattered. One who’s chosen now to strike.” He paused, sighing. “And he seems to have done his research. Figured out who the players are, who’s stupid enough to strike out against us. What our weaknesses are.”