Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

My chapter ignored every fucking rule and law except the ones we made for ourselves. Which made us very fucking dangerous. It also made it so people did not talk to me the way that Blondie just had. Nor did anyone crook their finger at me like they were expecting me to obey that gesture.

I had no fucking idea why I’d told Keltan I’d call him back then walked over to the breakfast bar.

She’d had a look on her face that made my steps almost tentative. Fucking almost.

“I’m not going to ask why you’re here,” she said as she rummaged around in the kitchen. “Because all that matters is the fact you’re armed and adept in the art of killing.”

I didn’t respond to her. I hadn’t needed to.

She popped the cork on a bottle of wine then moved across the room to a shelf full of tumblers to get two wine glasses.

“I’m not adept at killing, but I sure could get there if I was presented with the guy who did that to my friend.” She tilted her head toward the hallway where I’d banished Freya then headed back to the breakfast bar.

I was glad this chick was here because I was a fucking coward. Because I could barely look at Freya. Because I didn’t trust myself in the same room as her.

“I’ve got a feeling you’ve got that covered, though,” she added as she poured the wine.

I nodded once, my body already heating at the thought of what it was going to feel like being covered in that asshole’s blood.

“Good,” she said. “I haven’t got the entire lowdown on what’s going on between the two of you, but I’m preparing for that.” Her eyes flit down to the wine glasses. “But I will tell you something. There is more than one way to hurt a woman. Unfortunately, men are plenty adept at doing that in a variety of ways. And I’ll promise you that if you hurt her in any single fucking way, I’ll do to you what you’re planning on doing to the man who put his hands on Freya.”

Something cold and uncomfortable moved in my stomach. “I have no intention of hurting Freya. I don’t plan on getting close enough to her to do that.”

The woman gave me a look that called bullshit. “Baby, you’re plenty close enough to do more damage than that asshole ever could.”

With that, she somehow effortlessly bundled two glasses and a large tray filled with cheese in her hands then sauntered out.

Chapter Nine

FREYA

Marilyn was a married woman, which meant that she could not move in with me for the entirety of this ordeal.

After spending the night, she did stay for half the day, leaving only to pick us up a variety of pastries and coffee for breakfast. Marilyn’s cooking skills were limited to heating up leftovers since her husband, Jed, did all of the cooking. And the cleaning. And the worshipping of the ground that she walked on. He owned a construction company and was as buff and as macho as you could imagine, but he was a fucking marshmallow for his wife. The one who he considered to be one hundred percent woman despite full knowledge of her past. It was because of his devotion and adoration to her that he wasn’t bothered by the fact that his wife was a stripper. When they began dating, he grew to know her well enough to understand that she needed that job, for her mental health, her sanity. He still supported her wholeheartedly.

Jed was a unicorn.

Jed also came over to see me, bringing more wine, flowers and a lasagna. The second he saw my face, his contorted, and he took me into his large arms with a tenderness I didn’t think aforementioned arms were capable of. Then he kissed my head with that very same tenderness.

Jed was a fucking unicorn.

Before leaving, Jed took Hades outside to have a very long and likely testosterone-filled chat. Marilyn, Sirius and I had spied on them from the window. There was a lot of glowering, a lot of arm folding … basically, the swinging of proverbial dicks. Then, after a tense few minutes, there were nods and one very strong looking handshake.

Afterward, both Marilyn and Jed left, promising to be back soon, Marilyn with more wine and Jed with more food.

Leaving Hades and me alone in my house. For about ten minutes. Then Anderson rolled up and Hades muttered about, “having to take care of club business,” leaving without looking at me.

I didn’t see him for a week.

He came back to my house. I only knew this because Anderson told me. Somehow, Hades had managed to time his arrivals and departures around my sleep schedule so that we didn’t lay eyes on each other.

I missed him. A lot. Missed the security of his presence, although I knew that he wouldn’t have left me with Anderson if he didn’t think I was taken care of. And I was taken care of. The day after Hades disappeared, some very attractive men turned up at the house with a lot of complicated-looking technical equipment.