Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC 5)

Bull shook his head. “Nothing from our end. Info Tucker gave us? Old and useless. This Devlin fuck was smart enough to cut off everything the Tuckers had on him. Must have known about our meet.”

“Fuck,” Cade bit out. He looked to Jagger, who was there temporarily until they fought this shit. “Your charter got anything on him?”

Jagger shook his head. “All smoke and mirrors. Sorry, brother.”

The lack of info had Lucky set to explode when Wire entered the room.

“You better have some fuckin’ good news, kid,” Cade gritted out.

Wire looked up from the laptop. “Does the location of Dylan Tucker count as good news?”

The whole table stilled.

Simultaneously, Lucky and Gage grinned.

His screams of pain were like a lullaby. Music to his fucking ears. The blood on his hands was exquisite.

“Brother,” Gage brought him out of his happy place. That being slowly killing Dylan Tucker.

Cade had a turn, obviously. And they’d tried to get info on Devlin or Carlos. He had none. They were sure of that.

So now it was just the killing to be done.

He glanced up, his eyes unseeing. “What?” he hissed.

Gage nodded to the door. “She’s here.”

Lucky immediately found his lucidity. His brothers hadn’t exactly been on board with him bringing Becky to this little party—he was sure the words ‘fucking insane’ had been used—but he’d persuaded them.

Gage had volunteered to get her.

Lucky’s jaw had stiffened slightly at that, but he let him. Namely because he had a dragon to feed and he begrudgingly knew the connection the two of them had. He didn’t have to like it, which he didn’t, but he understood it. He was a selfish fuck, wanting to share every connection possible with her. Fuck, he’d even shoot up just so he could have that, know what she was craving. But then that was a little crazy, even for him.

So he indulged in his drug of choice, blood and revenge.

He’d known Becky would need it, to see it being done. His brothers couldn’t understand it because their women were different. They were strong, fuckin’ strong. They’d danced with the darkness but they hadn’t become it, not like Becky.

So she needed this.

“Hold this.” He handed Gage his bloody knife, wiped his hands, and went to the door to the warehouse, rented for that purpose. Though it hadn’t gotten much use since they’d gone legit. It hadn’t been desolate—they were still fuckin’ Sons—but the stains on the floor weren’t as fresh as they used to be.

The bitter air swarmed him as he opened the door, as did the smell of smoke. He frowned at the light in the darkness and snatched the smoke from Becky’s mouth, stubbing it under his boot.

“Hey,” she protested.

He stood in front of her. “Those kill you, you know.”

She jutted her chin out. He could see her fire, even in the darkness. Fuck, it shone the brightest in the darkness. “So does breathing,” she countered.

He shook his head. “Well, I’m not too hot on anything that opens up the prospect of me losing you prematurely. I’m kind of fond of you,” he said, his face close to hers.

He heard her breathing quicken. “Ditto,” she whispered. Then she pulled her head back, squinting at the building. “You said you’re fond of me, but is that all just a ruse to get me here and murder me? I promise I won’t tell anyone about the Brony thing.”

He shoved his hand over her mouth, forgetting what was on it for a second. “Be quiet, would you?” he snapped.

As soon as he realized where his hand had been, he ripped it from her beautiful skin.

She rubbed her face. “Is that blood?” she asked evenly.

“Fuck,” he cursed, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a bandana to wipe her face. When he was done, he clasped her neck. “I’ve only got you here because I know your monsters are fuckin’ ferocious, babe. Because I know they can’t be fought with happy thoughts and rainbows. They need to be fought with monsters.” He paused. “I know you think they don’t exist, but I disagree. The one in there?” He nodded to the building. “He ain’t human and he ain’t going to die like one. You got a choice. You can go in there, step further into the black, and I’ll follow you without hesitation.” He tightened his grasp on her neck. “Or you can get on the back of my bike and we’ll leave it, monsters and all. Your call.”

There was no hesitation. She stepped out of his grasp and into the dark.

Becky

Blood had a smell. People who’d seen a lot of it would tell you. Their descriptions may differ, but it was unmistakable. As soon as I stepped into the warehouse, I was assaulted with the metallic, bitter twang.

I welcomed it.

It was the smell of justice. Probably not the kind sanctioned by the state, or even conventional society, but whatever.