Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC) (27 page)

I was at his place.

In his bed.

The knowledge was both comforting and disconcerting.

“I wasn’t aware I went to sleep,” I said, my voice thick with confusion, my head foggy.

His face turned blank and the cords in his neck pulsed. “You didn’t exactly… go to sleep. Babe, you just kind of left the building. Terrified the absolute shit outta me.”

I remembered. The club. The stage. The lights. It all melting away and the room replacing it. “Shit,” I whispered.

He nodded tightly. “Yeah.”

I put my hand to my head. “I’m such an idiot,” I groaned.

He went still. “What?”

“I pretty much went cationic in front of a room full of people. That’s it, my job is toast.”

And my paycheck. And any chance I had for earning enough money to give me a chance to stand on my own two feet. Or, as it seemed, collapse on my own two feet.

“Who gives a fuck about the job? About the people? I’m worried about you,” he growled, stepping even closer to the bed. “Becky, I saw it. You were there, beautiful, magnificent, hot-as-fuck Becky. Then it all drained away, like someone pulled your plug and you were just… gone.” He shuddered, actually fucking shuddered. “I thought it was bad seeing the pain, the brokenness in your eyes, but I’ll take it over not seeing anything.”

“I don’t even know what happened,” I whispered.

“Flashback,” he clipped. “Never seen one happen like that, but that’s what it was. Something triggered it when you were up there, sucked you outta that room and back… there.”

The silence that bathed us was uncomfortable and prickly, both of us knowing where ‘there’ was.

“So I guess I was wrong,” I said finally. “I don’t even have control over my body, what I do with it. My body has control over me.” The thought was exhausting and rather depressing.

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “It’s killin’ me not to touch you right now, babe.”

I stiffened at the prospect. I wanted him to. Wanted some illusion of safety that his tattooed arms offered. But my skin felt like it was made of tissue paper. If his callused hands touched me, it might just tear.

“I won’t,” he reassured me, noting my reaction. “But you’ve got control over that. Over me. Hold onto that, if nothing else. You may not be able to control how your body deals what you went through, but you control me. I breathe because you breathe, babe. You ask me to walk through the streets wearin’ nothing but one of those Borat suits, I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. Plus, we both know I’d wear the shit outta that thing.”

I let out a choked laugh, despite the situation.

His eyes twinkled. “There she is,” he murmured. “You’re not lost, or gone, Becky. You’re still there, in your cocoon, waiting for the time that you’ve evolved enough to come out. Patience, my dear grasshopper. Patience is all you need.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Patience is a virtue, and we both know I don’t have any of those.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got many, many other more valuable traits than boring old virtues.” He paused. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, and if you want me to take you home, I will in a fuckin’ second, but do you want to stay here? I’ll take the couch,” he said quickly. “Gentleman that I am.”

I gazed at him for a long moment. “No,” I whispered.

His eyes hardened at the edges. “No problem. I get that you want to be with your girls.

“No,” I said again. “You won’t have the couch.”

His face changed. “Becky,” he rasped.

I looked from side to side. “This is a big bed. Big enough for the both of us. I want to stay. I don’t think I could be anywhere else but right here with you. If I go anywhere else I’ll be…there.” I paused. “So I need you.”

Those four words were terrible to say, to admit, but I did it. For my sanity.

And maybe for his too.

He nodded and made his way over to the other side of the bed. I listened to the thud of his boots, the bed jostling as his weight hit it.

I turned on my side to watch him get in. Once he was on, he did the same, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath. He didn’t touch me, though. It was as if there was a small glass barrier between our two bodies.

His eyes searched mine. “This okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay because all I wanted was to smash that glass.

But that thought sent trails of ghost hands up my legs. They weren’t gone yet, and I wasn’t letting him touch me while the memory of their grip remained.

“Yes,” I whispered. I could have left it there, but I didn’t. “It’s the most okay I’ve been since Reno.”

His eyes flared with heat and something else. “Good,” he rumbled. “Me too.”

Cade put the phone down, his face blank.

Lucky jerked his knee in frustration, knowing he couldn’t shoot his president, one of his best friends, out of impatience, but he was fuckin’ tempted.

“Tuckers want a meet.” He’d addressed the table, but his gaze flickered to Lucky.

He laughed. “They got a fuckin’ ounce of sense? They want a meet, they’ll get one. They’ll be meetin’ the fuckin’ reaper.”

Gage slammed his fist down on the table. “A-fucking-men.”

Cade’s eyes focused on him. “They say they had no hand in what went on in that warehouse.”

“They’re fuckin’ liars,” Lucky exploded.

Cade nodded. “I expect they are. But they’re also not stupid. They know we’ve got our brothers in from different charters.” He nodded to Jagger, who was there from New Mexico, the rest of his crew set to arrive in the next few days. The scarred brother grinned back. “So we’re not outnumbered. They’re rats jumpin’ from a sinkin’ ship. Devlin’s sinking ship.”

Brock cracked his knuckles, his fury palpable. Devlin’s father had kidnapped his old lady, nearly killed her. Now that his son was in charge, the brother was intent on ending the entire family line.

“We’ll take the meet,” Cade decided.

I can’t shoot my president.

“Are you fuckin’ insane?” Gage clipped.

Cade smiled. “No, but you are.”

* * *

T
he balding man in a suit
, a fucking pinstripe suit, leaned back in his chair. “We regret this entire chain of events, Cade. Made bad decisions in our choices of business partners. That’s all. Our family had nothing to do with your… misfortunes.”

Lucky stood behind his prez and had to restrain himself from reaching for his gun. The itch was so bad his body was shaking.

“Misfortune?” he spat, stepping forward. He ignored how the fuck’s goons stood with his movements. “You call kidnapping and almost killin’ my woman misfortune? I call it suicide.” He didn’t even notice the guns pointed at his head until Cade’s hand lifted in a lowering motion.

“Easy, brother,” he muttered. Lucky’s gaze flickered to the old man, who hadn’t even stood. The fuck was arrogant enough to think he was untouchable. He would soon learn. “Mr. Tucker,” Cade addressed him. “You’ll kindly ask your sons to lower their guns.” His voice was even but there was a threat in his tone, as if he were the one holding the firepower. Which he technically was, but they weren’t to know that—yet.

Tucker jerked his head at the men, who immediately complied. “I understand tensions are running high, but you will believe me when I say our family was innocent in that crime. And as a show of regret of how we connected with the wrong people, we’re willing to give you all the information we have on Mr. Devlin. As a gesture of peace.” He nodded to the man at his left, who laid a paper on the table.

“And Carlos?” Cade asked.

“We have nothing on him, I regret to inform you. But shall he crawl out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in, I’ll let you know.”

Cade nodded, holding his hand out for the folder.

Tucker held it at arm’s length. “And we have your word that you’ll forget that we made questionable business decisions, and understand that we had nothing to do with this horrible event?”

Cade nodded once. “My word is my bond.”

Tucker looked relieved and handed him the folder. The minute Cade had it in his grasp, Bull and Brock stepped forward, planting two bullets in his son’s brains while Lucky did the same with the white-haired piece of shit.

Gage and the rest of the brothers were exterminating the rest of the Tucker family off the face off the earth, making sure to leave Dylan for Lucky.

Cade stepped over to the jerking body in front of him. “My word’s not my bond. Fuckin’ bullets are.” He lifted his piece and the man stopped jerking.

Brock rubbed his hands together. “One lot down, three to go.”

Carlos and Devlin were likely to be harder to pin down, but they’d get them.

Bull stepped forward, lowering his phone from his ear. “Got news.” His gaze was fixed on Lucky.

“What the fuck happened now?” he gritted out, his mind immediately going to Becky.

“They got all the Tuckers. Except one.”

He knew who it was before Bull confirmed it.

“Dylan.”

“Fuck!” he roared in frustration.

He found a sense of calm. They’d get him. He’d get him. Because he had to.

It was that simple.

“
L
ove her
, but leave her wild.”

-Atticus

“
I
want
you to move in with me.”

I shifted my eyes from the skin that was turning into something beautiful, covering the ugly—on the outside, at least—to Gabriel’s honeyed gaze. “What?”

He frowned at me. “You heard me.”

I frowned back. “Yes, I heard, but I was giving you a chance to rectify your Tourette’s.”

He grinned at me, reaching out to play with my fingers.

That was okay, that touch. We’d worked our way up to it, and his patience was reminiscent of a monk. Night spent watching stupid movies at opposite ends of the sofa, that invisible glass between us. There were moments, a lot of them actually, when he caught himself about to stroke my face, bring me to his body, kiss me. He stopped himself before contact was made.

Every time, every single time, I was both relieved and disappointed.

And each time, there was a little more disappointment and a little more relief.

I was healing.

It was a slow process.

Snail’s pace.

A frustrating one at that. Even now, a month later, I still had the constant itch, constant need for nothingness when I woke up and went to sleep overflowing with the weight of it all. Of everything. And no matter how much sleep I got—which ranged from not enough to too much—I couldn’t beat the exhaustion. Because from dawn till dusk, I was fighting. And the battle was rough, and gritty, and ugly.

But I was winning.

I think.

Obviously I didn’t go back to stripping after the whole fiasco that everyone kindly pretended didn’t happen.

Cade had walked up to me in Gabriel’s kitchen the next morning, his eyes soft. “You good at math?”

I frowned at him through my coffee mug. “Math?” I repeated. I’d only had two coffees, but even at full Bex I reasoned I’d still be confused by the greeting. These macho bikers had their own language that I needed to become fluent in if I planned on living in their world.

I was finding I kind of was.

Maybe.

“Accounts, expenses, that type of shit.”

I nodded slowly. I had been premed, and I had a logical brain. All that chemical and number crap had come easy to me. It had rules, limitations. I liked that in the limitless world I was living in. It was comforting.

He gave me a small smile. “Good. We need someone since our current bookkeeper is useless.” His gray stare flickered to Gabriel, who was leaning against the stove, sipping from his own cup and wearing low-slung sweats. And nothing else.

I should have gotten an award or something for maintaining eye contact with Cade the entire conversation.

Okay, not the
entire
conversation. Maybe like eighty percent of it.

“Words hurt, you know,” Gabriel shot back in a faux wounded voice.

I rolled my eyes and focused on my coffee.

“So?” Cade asked, looking back to me.

My eyes, which had crept back to Gabriel’s abs, snapped to Cade. “So?”

He did the mouth twitch. “You want the job?”

He had my full attention then. A job where I didn’t have to sell my body? I didn’t want to seem too eager, like jump up and down or anything, so I took another sip. “What’s the pay like?” I asked, playing it cool

“More than what you got on the stage.”

“I got pretty good tips.”

“Including tips. It’s still generous.”

I nodded. “And the benefits?”

“Full.”

I took another sip, and then something occurred to me. “Just so we’re clear, this isn’t charity, right? Because I don’t need that.”

The mouth twitch disappeared. “No, it’s not,” he said firmly. “We need someone who won’t run our business to the ground, and Gwen mentioned you’d been premed so I figured you’d be smarter than someone who didn’t graduate high school.” He gave Gabriel a look, though not at his abs like I had been. He moved his attention back to me. “We need you. It’s not charity. I’ll expect you to work.”

I gaped at him. “Wow, I think that’s the longest and most complete sentence I’ve ever heard you say.”

The mouth twitch came back. “So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

He was right; it wasn’t charity. It was hard work. The books were a fucking mess and it took me a week to get them in order again. But I loved it. Got lost in the numbers and the logic of it all. I could find it there, some form of escape from my world free of logic.

So that was a part of it.

Not the biggest.

He
was the biggest. And now he was sitting there, asking that. Something that would shake up my only just-settled world. Or as settled as chaos could be.

He kissed my fingertips and I shivered with the contact. “I’m not askin’ in the way you’re thinkin’. I’ve got the spare bedroom cleared of shit and ready for you, if you want it.”

I glanced at him and then down to Lex, who was concentrating on my ink. I was getting kind of addicted to it. Since that first prick of pain with Lily and Rosie, all I’d wanted was more. More of the pain to distract me from everything else, more of the ink to cover the scars that wouldn’t heal. More control over my body, even if it was just what was happening on the outside.

So I was getting a full sleeve done. I had known immediately what I wanted—a fairy tale, right there on my arm. Because I couldn’t have one, but I could make one. Though this was a little different. I had the trademark castle on my shoulder, which had been done last week. It was beautiful, intricate, a peaceful array of pastels and rainbows. Half of it was, at least. The other half was black shadows, a stormy sky, gargoyles coming to life from the turrets.

A confluence of what I wished for and what I got.

A reminder that I could have both and neither. That I was pulling myself off that dark place in pursuit of the sunshine and rainbows. But I wouldn’t exactly get that. I’d have somewhere in between.

And as soon as Gabriel had heard that’s what I was doing, he’d insisted to come ‘to hold my hand.’

“I don’t need anyone to hold my hand,” I’d informed him, frowning.

He’d grinned. “But I need someone to hold my hand.”

So he came, and right then, he was holding my hand.

And I’d never admit it out loud, but I needed it.

“You’re really going to have this conversation in front of Lex?” I nodded to the heavyset, tattooed man bent over my arm. “You’ll make him uncomfortable.

He didn’t look up. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

I scowled at his tattooed head. “Dude, I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” he replied over the buzzing of his gun.

“Not anymore,” I muttered.

He chuckled and continued his work silently.

Gabriel grinned at me. I was getting used to that too. The way his grin had changed, warped from the easy one I’d been used to, to something different. Something darker.

It’s where we lived now, the darkness. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I was getting used to the shadows.

“So, Lex approves. What more do you need?”

“It’s not what I need,” I argued. “It’s what
you
need, which is a reality check. We are not even properly together and you want to move in together? Like that’s not a recipe for disaster.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “We’re fuckin’ together,” he growled. He exerted gentle pressure on my hand. “I want you at my place, where I can see you all the time. Know you’re safe,” he declared.

I didn’t lower my eyes, even though his stare was making me uncomfortable, confronting me with reality. Yeah, we were together, and that thought filled me with equal parts joy and dread. I swallowed both with effort. “Well, I want a lifetime supply of Chunky Monkey and a Golden Globe. Life doesn’t always give us what we want,” I stated matter-of-factly.

When in doubt, use sarcasm.

Gabriel clenched his jaw and glanced to my arm, not saying anything.

Score, I’d won. Why didn’t victory taste sweet?

Because you wanted him to fight harder
.
Even though you know how fucked-up it is, how much you’d tarnish him even more by moving in, you know it’s a fantasy, but you want it.

“Done,” Lex grunted, moving my attention outwards.

He wiped the ink and blood off my arm to reveal my latest piece. I stared at it, as did Gabriel.

“Wow,” I muttered.

It looked awesome. On the inside of my arm, above my very first tattoo, was an intricate and beautiful picture of a girl, a princess. Everything innocent and beautiful about her face, right down to the crown—on one half, at least. On the other side of her head, the crown wasn’t shiny and glistening; it was tarnished and cracked, dark and sharp. Her face was no longer innocent but half a skeleton, decaying but still somehow beautiful.

Right above my favorite vein was me. I wasn’t the skeleton, and I sure as shit wasn’t the princess. I was both. A reminder of what I’d turned into from the moment I injected it.

“Fuck,” Gabriel exclaimed, rubbing his mouth roughly. He glanced to Lex, who was rustling and putting his shit away. “You’re a genius, bro. Didn’t think you could make that skin any more beautiful, but you did.”

Lex nodded. “It’s my job.”

Gabriel grinned. “Well, as soon as I find a blank space on this beautiful canvas”—he gestured down to his body—“I want that.” He nodded to my arm.

I sucked in a breath. “You want this?” I held up my red and aching arm.

He nodded. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

I glared at this. “But this is
my
tattoo. This is me. Why the fuck do you think I’m going to let you get it?” I hissed, anger bubbling from my words.

“I’m just gonna wait outside,” Lex declared.

Gabriel’s eyes didn’t move from mine. “Yeah, good call, bro. Assume brace positions.”

I scowled at him even deeper, pushing up and wrenching from his grip. “I can’t believe you want to take my tattoo from me,” I seethed, pacing the room.

He stood, striding over to me. His hands settled at my hips, stilling me. “I’m not takin’ it away from you, Becky,” he murmured.

I bit my lip. “That’s what it feels like.”

He reached up to stroke my face. “Yeah, well, it’s not that. It’s me havin’ a piece of you where I can see it. Remind myself that you’re here. That you’re fighting. That you made it through. I’ve got all that tattooed on the inside, but it’s gnarly and ugly.” His hand skimmed past the tattoo to hold my wrist. “I need somethin’ different on the outside. Just like you do.”

My anger fizzled away quickly as his words touched me. And his hands touched me. And it didn’t feel dirty or wrong.

It was right.

Maybe slightly fucked-up, but it was right.

* * *

T
he next day
, Gabriel got the tattoo.

The fucking next day. And he got it on the only blank space he had—above his heart, where the scar of the bullet wound marred his smooth skin. He’d insisted I be there, to hold his hand.

But really, I needed him there to hold mine as I watched Lex cover the evidence of the past. Of both of our little deaths.

We’d gone back to my place, me on the back of his bike. I could do that now, ride on the back. Have my whole body pressed against his without drowning in the filth of the contact. It was still there, but I could paddle in it.

His fingers twined in mine as we opened the door to Rosie’s place. Once he knew I could handle that contact, he made sure to keep us connected almost every second we were together.

Which was a lot these days. He came over every night and watched movies, or watched me watch movies. His gaze was electric and weary, like he was waiting for something. For me to break, maybe. Or for someone to try and break me again. I didn’t miss the way his eyes scouted all public spaces we went to together, how he insist he do a ‘walk-through’ of Rosie’s before I went in. Which was what he released my hands to do now.

I knew they were on the revenge train. It was kind of hard to miss the previous week’s news that the entire Tucker family had died in a ‘tragic fire’ at their family compound.

I hadn’t mentioned it to Gabriel. Not yet. Because they were very intent on getting revenge for me. I was even more intent on getting it for myself. I just didn’t know how to do that. Luckily, Rosie ‘knew people’ and had ‘put out feelers.’

I had a feeling that chick had a lot more to her than ever-changing outfits and a revolving dating door.

A lot.

So I was playing the part. The one of the woman who needed the men in cuts to fight her battles for her. One in particular. I knew he needed it to somehow find comfort in the darkness, just like me. Because he was healing too, and I wanted to give him that. But I wanted to take it for myself.

“No monsters hiding in my closet?” I asked, folding my arms as he walked back to the front door.

He grinned wickedly. “Oh, there’s plenty. But they’re friendly.”

I wish.

“So,” he started, stepping forward, “do you want help packing, or will it break some kind of chick rule for me to handle your unmentionables?” His gaze went hooded. “Though if it doesn’t, I’m requesting that exact job.”