Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

“Based out of Texas but just arrived in town last night,” Swiss continued, voice grim. “Already went to his hotel. Wasn’t there.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking about how much I needed coffee since I’d been up all night watching Freya, eyes on her chest, making sure it moved up and down regularly.

“Find him,” I ordered. “And find out why the fuck he thought he could put his hands on my woman.”

Swiss hadn’t so much as cracked a grin since he’d arrived here. The man smiled ear to ear when he was cutting a motherfucker from neck to belly button, but this was different.

He didn’t smile or smirk when I spoke, but something moved across his face.

“There it is again, your woman.” He elbowed Elden who, as usual, hadn’t uttered a single word. “His woman,” he shook his head. “We’ve lost another one, I think.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I scowled. “Then find that fucking prick so I can feel his goddamn blood on my hands.”

Chapter Seven

FREYA

I didn’t wake up confused. I knew I was in a hospital. Knew from the smells, the uncomfortable bed, the cheap sheets and the gown. My mouth was dry, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth and my stomach churned.

Not to mention that I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. My ribs hurt. Burned. I didn’t move, because I knew if I did, the pain would radiate to my toes. I also couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t vomit everywhere. So I stayed completely still.

My cheek throbbed, and my jaw felt stiff as if it was made of glass.

Last night was not a blur, although I wished it was. Everything played through my mind in slow motion, every moment of it.

The crunch of Derek’s fist on my face. The pain exploding through my cheek, the warm blood on my face, the coppery taste of it in my mouth. The concrete, cold and hard underneath me, the man who I hadn’t even considered a threat suddenly becoming my abuser, me suddenly becoming the thing I’d promised myself I’d never be again.

A victim.

Though all of that was very clear, I feared I had imagined the last part of it. That I’d imagined him. Despite the fact that there was a hand, large and warm, encasing mine. Even though, above the sterile hospital smell, his scent invaded my senses. Musk. Cigarettes. Leather. Male. Hades.

I’d been awake for a hot minute, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut and forced my breathing to remain even. I wanted to enjoy the simplicity of laying here. Although it was impossible to enjoy the uncomfortable bed, the cheap foreign sheets, the dry mouth and the uneasy stomach, I wanted to enjoy Hades’s hand in mine. And even though I was still a little fuzzy from the drugs and general trauma, I knew that this, right here, was going to be the simplest part of my day. The simplest part of my life for the foreseeable future.

“I know you’re awake.”

My body twitched, the movement beyond my control, an involuntary reaction to the smooth, low voice caressing my insides.

The hand around mine flexed, and I braced for the release, the emptiness that would come when his hand released mine. But it didn’t go anywhere. He gripped my hand tighter than before, but nowhere near painful. He was still being gentle with me. That said something about how bad I looked.

Though I wasn’t eager to face the day or face my reflection, I couldn’t stop myself from opening my eyes when I was promised with Hades as the first thing I saw.

He did not disappoint.

His hair was mussed, liked always, falling effortlessly across his eyebrows like an inky silk curtain. His eyes moved, alighting when they met mine, simmering with intensity. The green one an emerald, the blue one pure ice. Some of the fury remained from last night. A lot of it, actually. But there was something else too. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

His skin seemed even paler beneath the florescent lights, making every one of his features that much more striking. Cutting.

I wasn’t sure if he’d been here all night, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like he had.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I rasped, my voice low and scratchy. “Literally.” I gestured to my left eye, the one that felt tight, uncomfortable and tender.

The slight movement sent pain ricocheting through me. I tried to hide my flinch, but Hades saw everything. Though I hadn’t noticed it initially, he had been relaxed. Or at least as relaxed as a man like Hades could be. The second I flinched, his body turned taut, as if someone had yanked a string attached to all of his muscles.

I let out a mewl of protest as he let go of my hand to move to the call button. Hades’s glower deepened as he most likely misunderstood that sound as a whimper of pain. It was probably better to let him think that it was because I couldn’t stand him not holding my hand.