Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(112)

In the direction of Aimless.





Lucky


He glanced down at his phone and shook his head. “No, Skid, you do not have to drink a gallon of Gatorade if Becky tries to make you. You have to wait until I’m there to watch.”

Gage grinned.

Since Skid had been tailing Becky and she’d been very vocal about how she felt about it, she made it her personal mission to torture the poor guy enough to run from her.

The opposite was happening. Lucky reasoned the f*ck would still follow her around even if he stopped ordering him to.

She had that about her.

That spirit. It was coming back. Coming back stronger than ever.

The fact his wrists were slightly sore was testament to that. His dick hardened at the memory.

It took three words to chase that hard-on away.

“We’ve got trouble,” Skid yelled, obviously on his bike.

His blood ran cold and he burst up from his chair, spilling his beer in the process. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Currently? She’s driving, and we seem to be going in the direction of Aimless.”

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” he roared. “Stop her.”

“Unless you want me to make her crash her car, I kind of can’t.”

“Fuck!” he yelled, swiping a glass so it shattered on the ground. “We’ll be there in twenty. Do not let her set foot in Aimless.”

He put the phone down and both Asher and Gage stood in front of him.

“We got trouble,” he declared.

Gage rubbed his hands together. “Good.”





Becky


The second I pulled into the parking lot, a bike roared in beside me.

Skid was up in my face as soon as I climbed out of my car.

I gripped the gun inside my bag. “Get out of my way, Jason,” I gritted out.

He didn’t move. “I can’t let you go in there.”

“You don’t let me go in anywhere. I’m a grown woman. I go where I please.”

“Yeah, but you going in there?” He nodded to the abandoned-looking bar. “It’s not smart.”

“I’m not smart. I’m angry. And an angry woman is dangerous. I don’t want you to bear the brunt of that, but I will shoot you in the kneecap if you don’t move,” I threatened, unearthing my gun.

He must have gauged my threat because he stepped back. “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out his own gun.

I raised a brow. “I didn’t ask you to come in.”

He stared at me. “If I don’t, your old man is gonna shoot me, and not in the kneecap.”

I squinted at him. He was serious, and I didn’t doubt Gabriel might do it. “Well, I’m kind of fond of you, so alrighty then, let’s go.”

I didn’t think much as I was walking through the desolate gravel parking lot. In fact, I didn’t think at all.

It was empty apart from my car, Skid’s bike, and a black town car I recognized.

So I knew what to expect when I burst through the open door. Carlos, leaning against the bar, drinking from a glass and chatting with Tyson.

They both turned as we walked in and I didn’t even falter, just kept walking even as Tyson raised his gun.

There was a loud boom from beside me that had my ears ringing. Tyson crumbled to the ground.

I stepped over him with little effort, and, like I’d practiced it, lifted the gun and squeezed.

The glass in his hand smashed to the floor.

In the movies, revenge came to a big crescendo, a climactic moment full of the action and drama you’d been waiting for since it all started.

In real life, unsurprisingly, it’s a little different.

It was over quickly with little to no drama. Or action. I guessed it depended on the situation. It lasted twenty seconds. Less.

Shit, Carlos was still holding his glass when I shot him.

My shaking hand dropped the gun so it landed next to his body. The one missing half its head.

I shot him.

The sound still rang in my ears.

“Shit,” Skid whistled as he came to stand beside me.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

He stared at the slightly headless body I’d created.

“You ever shot anyone before?”

“Nope,” I said, making a soft popping sound on the p.

“Me neither.” His voice didn’t shake or anything, but there was an edge to it. The same edge I had to mine.

“I have killed someone before,” I continued casually.

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded. “But he deserved it.”

“So did he.” He nodded to the body.

“Yeah. He did.”

A heavy silence cloaked the room, not just the silence of death but of being the dealer of that death.

It didn’t feel nice. Or good. But I felt less… dirty. Cleansed, somehow. Which was ironic, considering murder wasn’t cleansing. It was a sin. And against the law. Though murder was concerning humans. I put down an animal. A feral one at that.

“Scott,” he said, the word harsh on the soft silence.

I turned my head to regard his profile.

He met my eyes. “That’s my name,” he clarified. “I figure it’s time you knew it, since we, you know, just killed people together.”