Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(81)

It wouldn’t. Not for a long f*cking time if he had anything to say about it.

So he didn’t follow her. Didn’t make chase.

He wrenched his phone from his cut.

“Skid. You’re on Becky. Every f*ckin’ minute, every f*ckin’ second. If you so much as glance up to marvel at the starry night’s sky and make a wish on a shooting star, you’ll be burning up in flames just like one,” he growled.

He hung up, not waiting for a response.

Because he had another destination in mind. Another person to direct his anger at.



“What the f*ck, bro?” Gage protested as Lucky grabbed the sweetbutt on Gage’s lap and deposited her on the floor. She scowled at him but knew better than to say anything in protest. All the girls gave him a wide berth since they’d found Becky.

He knew he scared them. He didn’t give a shit. Plus, he had no f*ckin’ plans of getting anywhere near them for whatever remained of his life.

He clutched Gage by the collar. “Why the f*ck have you been hangin’ around Becky?” he clipped, barely restraining his urge to punch the f*cker. He’d shelve that urge. It’d come in handy.

Gage regarded him with that icy, empty stare that was the motherf*cker’s default. “She tell you?” he asked mildly.

He clutched his cut tighter. “I’m asking you,” he clipped. He had been beyond furious when Becky had refused to tell him why. Not at her; f*ck, not even at Gage. He trusted his brother. Even now, his anger wasn’t really being directed at the right place. He was furious at himself for being unable to swallow this f*ckin’ dragon, this white-hot rage that simmered every minute of every day.

“You’re askin’ the wrong person,” Gage replied.

Lucky got in his face. “That’s my woman,” he said quietly, dangerously.

Gage nodded. “Yeah, and she’s a good one too. Which is why I’m not betrayin’ her f*ckin’ trust.” He shook Lucky off with ease. “Frankly, I’m insulted you think I’d try shit on with her. Not because she’s your woman, but because of the shit she’s been through. She ain’t ready for that shit. Not from me. Not from you. Even I got f*ckin’ boundaries.”

On that, he turned his back on Lucky and tagged the girl who’d been hovering on the edge of their conversation, disappearing down the hallway.

Lucky stared after them.

Fuck.

He was more f*cked-up than f*ckin’ Gage. Gage.

That thought chilled him to the bone. But that didn’t stop him from plannin’ on seeing Becky. Nothing would, short of a bullet to the brain.





Chapter Nineteen





“She wears her strength and darkness equally well. The girl has always been half goddess, half hell.”

-Nikita Gill





Becky


I stared at the building, my nails biting into my palms so hard I was pretty sure I’d draw blood if they weren’t bitten to nothing.

“You’re sure you want to go in there?” Gage asked.

I didn’t look at him, just nodded.

“Interesting choice,” he said, staring at the script above the double doors.

My gaze snapped to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He met my eyes, his cold and calculating stare giving nothing away. “It’s meant to mean interesting choice,” he said evenly. “Not many women would go back to this after what you went through.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ‘many women,’” I said, gathering my bag and my confidence.

“I’m aware of that,” he muttered.

Gage and I had established a rather unconventional friendship. Though it was a stretch to call it a friendship. Could people really be friends with sharks? That’s what he was—a predator. Something vital was missing from him. I’m guessing what the junk took away.

That’s why I felt so at ease in his company. Something vital was missing from me too.

And he hadn’t even fluttered an eyelash when I’d requested he drop me here on the way back from our meeting.

“I’ll be here when you’re done,” he told me as I opened the door.

I turned my head. “You don’t have to stay. I can walk.” The prospect of walking out in the open, clean air had my chest feeling tight, that didn’t matter. I had to do this shit at some time. I couldn’t be afraid of the big wide world forever.

“I’ll be here when you’re done,” he repeated.

I rolled my eyes. “Bloody bikers,” I muttered as I climbed out and shut the door.

Yeah, bloody bikers. In the week since our confrontation, Gabriel made good on his promise. He was there, at Rosie’s, every single day. Not for long, and he didn’t even come in, though I knew he wanted to. Come in and try to save me from it all.

But he didn’t.

It was as if he sensed that trying to save me would be the very thing to destroy me, that being in his presence for more than a handful of minutes was a mixture of torture and ecstasy I was only just mentally competent enough to handle.

So that’s all he gave me.

Those minutes were too much and not enough all at the same time. Mostly he asked how I was doing; told me to eat more; gave me the long, soulful, demon-filled stare; and left. Showing me what had changed about him.