Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

And, apparently, it was impossible not to like Freya. Which made me want to pummel every single one of the fuckers who raised a goddamn hand.

As much as I didn’t want to be here, no way in fuck were any of the other fuckers near her. I’d made that clear when Swiss—the piece of shit—had casually mentioned that he might head over here for a drink and backup ‘in case you get stabbed again.’ My reaction had amused and surprised everyone, the way I’d slammed my fist against the table.

Hansen had even raised an eyebrow.

Luckily, no one said anything, but I knew that Swiss would have plenty to say when I got back to the club. I figured I’d be able to handle it by then, having had time to lock myself down. But right now, I didn’t know shit aside from knowing that I didn’t trust myself to move my hands from the cool glass.

Nor could I take my eyes off her.

I hadn’t been able to since she’d gotten out of that car in that dress. That fucking dress. With those fucking legs. Those tits. That ass.

That smile.

The one she offered freely to Anderson along with an invitation to dinner and a fucking hug. Again, I’d had to lock myself down, watching the prospect’s arms going around her. The only reason those arms were still attached to his body was because they’d stayed well north of her ass, and his eyes had been locked with hers. I had kinda liked the fucker before tonight, even though he never shut up about his Old Lady and their baby. The only reason he was on this detail today was because he went on about his woman so much. I figured he was the safest choice around Freya. Even then, my mind had tortured me all fucking day about how quickly another woman could disappear from a man’s mind in the face of someone like Freya.

Which was why I’d been busting my ass all fucking day, tracking down the fuckers responsible for this entire situation. And trying to figure out how they’d factored Freya into the situation. They obviously had eyes on us. Bad ones though, to pick Freya as a woman attached to the club. Or maybe they wanted to make a statement and were too cowardly to threaten someone like Macy or Caroline. If that had happened, not only would we find the men responsible, we’d make sure their deaths lasted fucking months.

As it was, I was really fucking looking forward to killing the man who was stupid enough to think he could get away with doing that and living another day. We were closing in when I got the message from Anderson that Freya was getting ready for work.

We had to find him tonight, because no way me or my cock would survive another night of this.

Three other women had danced before her. I hadn’t seen them. I couldn’t tell you the color of their hair or any other kind of physical detail. Then she came on.

Wearing white.

Wearing fucking white.

That should’ve been illegal.

I’d been planning on staring at the bar, counting the bottles on the shelves, watching the entrance to make sure no Segadores Sombríos came in the door. I didn’t need to get in any deeper with this woman. It was the smart thing to do. Safest for both me and her.

But something inside of me reacted, something impossible to control despite the fact that my life only worked because of the way I could control myself, and to a point, others around me.

Until Freya.

Until fucking Freya.

The dress she was wearing was sheer. Lace. I’d situated myself in the corner of the room, as far away from the stage as I could, considering I had to be ready to take down anyone who tried shit with her.

But despite my distance, I could see her nipples, hard and exquisitely pink. My grip on the glass tightened. I was close to breaking it in my palm, but I fucking welcomed that. I needed the pain of glass embedding itself into my skin, anything that wasn’t the agony of watching her strut down the stage with her perfect nipples illuminated for the entire club to see.

Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head, so as she rounded the pole, I traced the curve of her neck, imagining my hand around it as I fucked her from behind. Her skin was tanned, smooth perfection. It glistened in the light, and it was fucking hypnotizing.

I knew there was music, I swear I’d heard it moments ago. People had been talking too. Murmuring to each other. Laughing. Talking about what they’d do to the women on stage, the ones they’d never get. I remembered thinking that if I heard them talking that way about Freya, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.