Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(21)

I smiled, despite myself. “Yeah, I’m sick,” I agreed.

He touched my elbow, directing me to the sofa. “Well sit the f*ck down before you fall down. I’ll fix you some chicken soup,” he said, pushing me gently onto the sofa before straightening.

“We don’t have chicken soup,” I informed him.

Rosie handed him a beer and a Pop-Tart, doing the same to a hard-faced Asher. “And you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” she added with a grin.

He frowned at her, taking a pull of his beer. “Then I’ll order some.” He looked back to me. “Have you been to the doctor?”

Yeah, I’ve been to the hospital where multiple doctors told me I’d been a hair’s breadth away from death and recommended I go to some rehab facility. “I don’t need a doctor. I need rest and relaxation, which means you need to leave.”

His eyes narrowed. “You realize what just happened before?” he clipped. “What they wanted? What they were willin’ to do to get it?”

I swallowed, not from fear, as I wasn’t afraid of those idiots, but something else. “Yeah, and I know how to handle myself.”

Luckily, or maybe not so, our little argument was cut short by a scream. Lily’s scream.

My blood went cold and the men went into badass mode. If this were a cartoon, there would’ve been an Asher-shaped cloud where his body had been before he darted out of the door. Lucky was hot on his heels.

I pushed off the sofa, intent on following them. Rosie’s hand on my wrist stopped me.

“Let me go,” I hissed.

“You need to let the guys take care of it, as unfeminist as that sounds,” she said softly.

I turned to her. “That’s my best friend.”

“I know. But you don’t have any pants on, you’re wearing grandpa socks, and you can barely stand up,” she pointed out softly.

My body swayed as if to bring her point home.

Her grip became firmer, keeping me steady. “They got her,” she murmured.

“This is because of me,” I whispered.

Rosie’s face went hard. “No, this is because of the people who are doing this. Self-blame is not good for the complexion, and I won’t let you go all martyr and take everyone else’s sins on your shoulders.”

I kept my eyes on the door, praying for an unharmed Lily to come through it.

Like usual, my prayers weren’t answered.

When I saw Lily, she was pale and gasping for breath, a familiar scene from living with her.

Lily had asthma, and when she was in a high-stress or high-exertion situation it got bad. Heck, sometimes it came out of the blue. I didn’t scare easily; in fact, I didn’t scare at all. But watching my best friend suck at the air and not get enough to breathe in was f*cking terrifying. Especially after finding out that her attack was triggered by two men attacking her in our parking lot.

Because of me.

Fortunately I knew how to deal with this, and all my sickness and the relentless itch disappeared. For the amount of time it took to get Lily’s inhaler and for her to catch her breath, at least.

Then the shake came back. The need. Because I needed this to be okay. I needed to find the contentedness that I’d found with the needle.

Because none of this was okay.

The only thing that was okay was the furious biker tenderly holding Lily in his arms like she was the most precious thing on the planet. That was okay. Because he’d protect her.

From the world.

From me.

Because even now she was trying to protect me. To pretend that she hadn’t almost been attacked, or worse, because of me.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly as her burly biker crowded her with his concern.

My eyes were glued to her, but the side of my body was aflame from Lucky’s stare. I ignored it. I had to.

“You were just attacked in your own parking lot. No one expects you to be fine, Lily,” Asher said.

“I am,” she replied firmly. “I won’t be if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on.”

Shame cloaked me, seeped into my bones.

“It was because of me,” I whispered, barely able to speak through my disgrace.

“It is not because of you,” Lucky growled, his face dark and eyes imprinting on me. “That’s the last time you’re laying the blame of this shit at your pretty little feet, got it?”

He stared at me and the way his eyes locked on me, his words so sure, seeped through the broken pieces of me. For self-preservation, I clung to them. I nodded, unable to speak. I had to look away; that stare would undo me. I was already hanging on by the last dirty, frayed thread.

“They were here because they’re the scum of the earth who consider women property and don’t like it when they get told otherwise,” Asher cut in.

If I was in my right mind, I totally would have something to say about that. These f*cking bikers might not beat their women and pimp them out, but they liked to exert some form of ownership over them. I’d experienced it firsthand.

But the difference was that ownership with them wasn’t chains. At least not ones that hurt and rubbed you the wrong way. No, their chains were comfort, protection, the kind that made you never want to be free again.

Those were the most dangerous.

Lily must have mirrored my inward concerns because Asher felt the need to defend his little band of brothers and their chains.