Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(77)

I was at a loss. Bex’s friends from the club were uncertain, considering she had told me that was where she’d first been offered the bag presenting her with an escape.

Quite simply, I was f*cked.





Later that afternoon, after finally realizing I’d have to forfeit another paycheck and figure the repercussions out later, my problems were solved by a small and slightly crazy woman.

“Rosie,” I exclaimed in surprise when I opened the door.

She was clad in her normal glam. Every time I saw her, she was wearing something completely different than the last time I saw her. She was all in black. Black sleeveless turtleneck tucked into a short black leather mini and black heeled ankle boots. Her shoulder length curls were tumbling out of a messy bun. I was wearing one of Asher’s tees and leggings with holes in them.

“Please tell me the beautiful couple I had placed all my money on isn't already dust?” she greeted, hands on her hips.

I let out a breath, glancing back to Bex asleep on the sofa. I stepped forward obscuring Rosie’s view of our interior.

“We’re not over,” I said slowly. “We’re just on a break,” I explained.

Her eyes narrowed. “Ross and Rachel were on a break, look what happened to them,” she snapped, the only person that could use a Friends reference in serious conversation. “Asher’s gone from smiling like a fat cat with cake, to grimacing like a fat kid deprived of said cake,” she continued. Her eyes softened as she glanced at me. “You don’t look so good yourself, Lil. What’s going on? Why haven’t you called? I’m your friend. I want to help.”

Her words, her kind eyes maybe just the fact I was functioning on little to no sleep and suffering from Asher withdrawals was the reason I stepped out of the door and into her arms, sobbing. The entire story of Bex’s overdose, everything came tumbling out.

After I had finished, she’d pulled me out her arms to regard me with sad eyes.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Life hasn’t stopped delivering you punches has it?” she mused in sympathy.

I laughed bitterly, rubbing my eyes. “I guess not,” I said slowly.

“Well, I would ask why Asher isn’t here, helping you with this, but I’m thinking it’s the same reason why Gwen, Amy, and I aren’t privy to this. You think you have to handle all this alone.” She gave my shoulders a squeeze. “I’m not gonna tell you to call him, fill him in. That’s your choice. I’m not going to offer to pitch in financially because I know you won’t take a dime.” She rose her brow slightly at how my frame flinched at this. “I am going to offer what I can. What you’re going to accept. I’m going to stay here. Hang with Bex while you go to work,” she decided.

I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s a good thing you’re not asking then,” she said.

I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. So I let myself take the help that she offered. The help she offered without judgment, without expecting anything in return.





I dragged myself into my car. I was tired. No, I don’t think there was a word to explain what I was. My days were spent watching Bex like a hawk. Caring for her. Her entire body was crying out for a fix, and no matter what her mind wanted, the body was hard to say no to. So I watched. Didn’t sleep. And when she was sleeping I opened my textbooks with bleary eyes, thankful that by some small miracle my teachers had let me study from home under the guise I was suffering from mono.

Somehow I managed to plaster a smile on my face for my entire shift, though my tips told me it wasn’t as convincing as my recent tequila-filled grins. I was swearing off anything mood altering for the time being. My mind was taken up with the various things I had to get done, on top of making sure my best friend successfully survived heroin withdrawals and mentally calculating the days I had till my next assignment was due, one that my college career hinged on. No pressure. All of this had the underlying taste of longing. For Asher. Somehow, with my life being one kidnapping away from a soap opera or bad reality show, I missed him. I felt like I was going through withdrawals too. That my body was itching for him, yearning for my next fix.

I pulled up to my apartment with those things battling for the forefront of my mind, Asher winning hands down. It was then, a delightful sort of irony took over when my headlights illuminated a familiar Harley. Two of them in fact. My tired body soared, renewed energy coming from the fact my next hit was so close. Reason went out the door. All the reasons why not. So it was in my eagerness to get to the elation his presence promised that I forgot to check. Do what I always did when I pulled into the parking lot of my dodgy apartment building in the bad part of town. I didn’t need to. Asher’s bike was there. Asher was there. It meant safety.

Safety that obviously wasn’t guaranteed when I was slammed against the door I’d just shut.

“You think you can hide behind your dogs,” a rough voice hissed, a huge body pressing me against the car.

I could only see a dim outline of the figure in the darkness of the parking lot. His hand pressed painfully against my throat. Terror pulsed through me.

“There’ll be a time when they get sick of that snatch when they throw you aside.” The hand not at my neck trailed down my side.