Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(115)

-Rae Smith



You’d think after committing murder life wouldn’t start looking up.

But since my life was upside down since the moment I was born, it did.

Every day wasn’t better. Some days were worse, and I had to literally battle through the air like it was made of jelly. Had to constantly fight the temptation to find nothingness.

Not because my somethingness was bad.

Because it was good.

So good I couldn’t understand it.

Couldn’t breathe around it.

The good wasn’t pure and white and sunshine. It was clouds, murky gray and polluted by the demons of before and memories of yesterday.

But I think that was better than any kind of pure goodness.

Because it was real.

Too real.

Which was how I found myself blowing off work in the middle of the day and searching for nothingness.

“A glass of your crappiest red, please,” I said to Laura Maye, flopping myself on the barstool. I resisted the urge to lay my head on the bar and smack at it repeatedly.

Laura Maye was the woman from that day at the supermarket, the one who had grinned like a kid on Christmas as Gabriel dragging me away.

Rosie had introduced us.

Which should have said it all.

The woman, like Rosie, was insane.

Completely and utterly. Like Rosie, in the best way.

I could only do well around women who only flirted with sanity, never embraced it completely.

She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, though her face was kind. Even underneath all that totally amazing makeup, she managed to relay a variety of emotions. I dug that. If I had that much makeup on, I think my face would crack if I tried to mimic her look of concern and hesitation. Though, maybe that’s exactly what I needed. The only thing I had was a heavy-handed kohl liner, my trademark. I’d been experimenting with toning down my mask, trying to let my real face peek out and not be shocked by it. It had been going well, until that day. It was a day when I was caught by surprise by the demons I thought I’d tamed. They’d shown up just to let me know how feral they were. So I needed more than winged eyeliner. I’d asked her to borrow her hot pink lipstick. You know, just to shake things up a bit.

“You sure about that, sweetheart? Considering your situation?” she asked, not unkindly.

I gave her a look. She obviously knew about my… situation. Nice euphemism for it. It was a small town, plus the biker circle was even smaller, and my kidnapping, rape, and rescue were not small news. Laura Maye may not have had an alpha biker claiming her and growling in monosyllables like the rest of the women did, she still had a weird place in it all.

“Oh it’s not the wine I have a problem with. More so the heroin,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

The side of her face jerked as if a smile were growing there. She reached up for a glass and starting pouring. “Well, we don’t sell that here, so you’re safe,” she deadpanned.

I gave her a jaunty smile, or what I hoped passed for one. Safe? Yeah right. I could be ten thousand miles from a needle and still sense its pull. I’d never be ‘safe’ from it. Never be free. I just had to learn to live with the chains. Accessorize around them.

“Plus, I think after what you’ve been through, not having something to salve the burn might just be cruel.” She pushed the glass towards me and leaned forward. “We all need a little something to get us through the hardships that life throws at us, and babe, you’ve had a lot more than many.”

I gulped my wine, needing it to anesthetize against the kindness.

“I’m sure there are many people out there who’ve had it worse. I’m still here.” I shrugged.

Laura Maye didn’t buy my nonchalance. I wasn’t exactly convincing. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know. To scream at the world and curse whatever may control us all for putting you in this situation. To fall apart.”

I barely knew this woman, and the bitch part of me urged me to tell her to mind her own business and leave me to my own shit, but I didn’t. Such naked kindness shouldn’t be treated with vulnerability disguised as cruelness. I met her eyes.

“I’m already apart,” I confessed. “A thousand little pieces rattling inside an obviously hot package.” I grinned slyly. “I’ve already fallen apart. That was the easy part. It’s putting myself back together that’s the bitch.”

Laura Maye blinked at me a couple times and then nodded, pouring herself a drink. “Don’t I know it,” she murmured, her tone hinting at the fact demons lurked behind the long mascara laden lashes. She clinked her glass to mine. “To putting ourselves back together.”

“May we figure it out before we’re fifty,” I added.

She grinned and sipped her drink.

“There a reason why you’re sittin’ in here alone when you’ve got a very delicious biker sharing your bed?” she asked, her eyes going to the rest of the bar. It was pretty much empty since it was the lull between afternoon and evening. And it was a Wednesday afternoon. The place was still dope, and I had the feeling the people of the small town would filter in, plus the numerous tourists who headed for coastal towns this time of year.

I sighed, running my fingers up the stem of the glass. “I just needed a minute. A vacation from it all.” I glanced up. “A vacation from a life that is actually just starting to get good again. Because I can’t take all the good in one go, I have to escape and inject some of my bad into it, just to dilute it, so I don’t overdose.” I sipped the wine, for something to do more than anything. “Am I completely f*cked-up?” I asked.