Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(95)

Cue girly stomach flip. Not a time to mull over that while I was getting life lessons from the biker matriarch.

“I’ve known him since he was a prospect runnin’ from a street gang and used his good looks and smart mouth to guide him through the shit life threw at him. He’s a good man. And if you hurt him, I’ll run you over with my car and make it look like an accident,” she declared, like she was mentioning she might have me out for dinner one night. It wasn’t an empty threat; I’d heard plenty of those in my life. This was a promise. And despite the fact she was promising my murder, I liked it. I liked that for Lucky, that he had someone looking out for him. That he had a family. I liked that for Lily too. She lost the only family she had left when her mom died and was saddled with the junkie stripper f*ckup for a best friend. Now she had a family that would kill for one another.

Not exactly Thanksgiving with Grandma, but it was good.

And on a little shelf in the dusty corners of my mind, I liked it for me too. That I might find a way to fit. Because this was Evie’s roundabout way of welcoming me into the fold—with a death threat, but with a promise of family too.

I nodded slowly as it all sank in and I nurtured the little hope I had. “I won’t hurt him. Not on purpose, at least.” I had to cover my bases.

She put out her smoke and stood, hitching her bag on her shoulder. “I don’t expect you will.” She walked over to me and cupped my face in her manicured hand. I didn’t flinch away like I had with most human touch recently. It didn’t make my skin crawl or the dirt that more unbearable. It was kind of nice.

“What I see behind Lucky’s eyes, I see it behind yours too. You’re hiding behind your demons, baby. I know they’re bigger and scarier than most, and I’ll personally castrate the person who put them there given half the chance, but they’re not indestructible. You’re in charge of whether you let them win or not. Whether you give yourself a chance at something more than the shitty plate that life decided to hand you.” She leaned in and I smelled vanilla and coconut as she kissed my head and straightened. “We got family dinner at my place next Sunday. You make the right choice, you’ll be there.”

On that note, she turned on her caged heel and left the room.

I put my head back on the sofa. “Well, f*ck,” I muttered to the ceiling.



The next day, Gabriel turned up at my office, sauntering in and dripping his hotness all over the place. He leaned against the desk, staring at me.

“I can’t concentrate with you just leaning there, being all hot,” I snapped at him, not looking up.

His grin was palpable. “Well, I’m sorry, but hot is the only thing I know how to be. It’s a blessing and a curse. Mostly a blessing ’cause I get to distract the beautiful Rebecca Flannery,” he said, placing something on top of my budget sheet.

I glanced up at him, my stomach fluttering at the look on his face. And the stomach flutter was good. Or mostly so.

“What’s this?” I asked, fingering the envelope in my hands.

His eyes twinkled. “Open it and find out.”

I did as he instructed, and after a couple seconds scanning what was on the page I moved my head up to meet his eyes. “Is this for real?” I asked in disbelief.

He grinned. “Well, I don’t know if it’s technically going to be a lifetime supply considering ice cream could become obsolete when we turn into oil-consuming cyborgs. But for now, you’ll never want for Chunky Monkey.”

I gaped at him. The piece of paper was a delivery schedule from Ben & Jerry’s, which stated a new delivery every week.

“Oh, and I would like to present you, Rebecca Flannery, with this.” He pulled out a statue-like trophy from behind his back.

I took it automatically, surprised at the weight. My eyes near popped out of my head. “This looks surprisingly real,” I said slowly, looking at the fake Golden Globe in my hands.

He merely shrugged.

“This is a fake, right?” I asked while reading the inscription.

He shrugged again. “Let’s just say I know people. Who would you like to thank? The academy? Your agent? Or your positively amazing old man and soon-to-be roommate?”

I stopped my perusal of the statue and gave him my full attention.

“My body is my fortress, my dominion. When we lost Faith, I lost faith. Whatever shred I’d been clutching. Lost all control. Of everything apart from my body.” I hugged my arms around my ribs. “I became the dictator of it. The dictator bent on destruction. Not because I was suicidal but because even through destruction came control. I was the agent of my own destiny, or in this case my own demise. In a world that gave me a life I had no control over, my body became my kingdom in which I ruled. There was a kind of brutal comfort in that. Then they came. They did those things. My control was lost. I held no dominion over myself. The one thing I had left to possess, even through the darkest depths of my addiction, was lost. They stole it. I became a stranger, a prisoner to myself. Now with you, this, the same thing is happening. I don’t have control over this, over us. It could mean a destruction that isn’t in my hands. It’s in yours.”

“I’d never f*ckin’ destroy you, baby. I’ll treasure you.”

“I know. At least I hope. But I can’t trust that. Not now. Not when I’ve only just gotten the dominion of my own body back. I don’t think I can pass over the keys to the kingdom just yet.”