Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(62)

“Tell me about the club,” I asked quietly.

Zane jerked slightly. He was quiet for a while. “What do you want to know?” he said finally, his voice guarded. I glanced up at him; his face was blank.

I had a multitude of questions. “I,” I began, unsure of where one started asking their boyfriend about his potential outlaw motorcycle club. “Are you in danger?” I asked, needing to know whether said club would be a reason I lost him. I blanched at the thought.

He stroked my face. “Babe, it’s dangerous riding my bike down the street. That’s life. Ain’t livin’ if you do it scared,” he answered

I chewed my lip. “So that’s a yes, you are in danger,” I surmised. “Does that mean the club breaks the law?” I asked quietly.

Zane paused. “Not gonna lie, babe. Club used to be into shady shit,” He continued. “Last coupla years things have gotten on the right side of the law.”

I raised a speculative eyebrow.

“We ain’t ever gonna be society’s version of law abiding citizens. We are going to significantly lower the risk of entering a state run facility or meeting the reaper bloody,” he told me with honesty that made me sick.

I swallowed. “Meet the reaper bloody,” I repeated. “People have died?” I asked weakly.

Zane’s face turned shuttered, tortured even. His eyes were full of something I couldn’t place. Sorrow. Regret. “Long time ago,” he muttered finally. “Club’s outta that shit now. Promise you that.” His voice was husky, full of pain.

I wanted to ask him who had died. It was obviously someone important. Or multiple someones, but he already seemed on the verge of shutting down and I didn’t want to push it. Rosie’s words about sorrow and guilt reverberated in my mind.

“So me and Lexie having a connection to the club—to you—we’re not in danger?” I clarified, needing to know my daughter wouldn’t become collateral damage.

Zane’s grip tightened on my chin and he fastened it so my face met his. His eyes seemed to glitter. “You think I would let anything happen to you or Lexie?” he growled. “Think I would let you in my life if there was a possibility of you getting a hair on your beautiful head ruffled?” he continued with ferocity.

I shook my head slowly. I knew he would protect us. But I didn’t want to have a lifestyle that needed protecting. But unfortunately, I already did. With or without a motorcycle club, there would always be a shadow that haunted my dreams.

We were silent for a long while and I traced the patch on his cut again. “Enforcer,” I read quietly. “That mean what I think it means?”

Zane’s frame was tight under mine. “Means I protect the club,” he said simply.

“With that?” I nodded to the gun that sat on the coffee table. One that I was not happy having in my house. Not at all. Something we would sure be having a conversation about.

Zane nodded.

“And you use it?” I probed.

His face hardened once more. “If need be,” he clipped.

I chewed on my question before finally asking it. “You’ve killed people,” I said quietly, realizing it was more of a statement than a question.

Zane was silent. I knew this meant yes. I searched his face. Even though it was hard and expressionless at this moment, I knew it wasn’t the face of a cold-blooded murderer. He could be hard, dangerous and menacing. He could also be tender and loving. I wondered if Jeffery Dahmer’s girlfriend justified it that way. I didn’t know how I could live with that. How I could get past that. I also didn’t know how I could live without him. I wasn’t in danger of falling for him. I already had.

“You gonna be able to get right with that?” Zane asked roughly.

“I don’t know,” I whispered honestly.

Zane’s frame tightened even more and he moved to get up. I put pressure on his shoulders as he sat up and swung my legs so I straddled him, moving my hands to his neck. “I don’t know how. But I’m going to try, because I can’t imagine my life without you right know,” I said to his eyes.

His frame relaxed and his fingers flexed at my hips. “I’m a selfish f*cker,” he growled slightly. “Shouldn’t be giving you a choice. Should be walking out right now. Can’t do that, babe.” His mouth brushed my jaw. “You’re under my skin,” he murmured.

I shivered at his stubble brushing against me, his lips at my throat.





Lexie’s date had gone well. Really well. Considering it was the day after and she was still wearing that slightly dreamy look which was on her face at 9:52 p.m. last night, well was an understatement. But, then again, she had been at school all day, where she no doubt encountered Killian once more. He had plenty of opportunity to give her another reason to smile like a dork. I’d had to physically restrain myself from peeking out the window when I heard him pull up last night, most likely giving Lexie her first proper kiss. I knew she’d been kissed before, but she hadn’t seemed too impressed and was happy to go back to books and music afterwards. My motherly intuition told me this time books and music would not hold her interest in the way Killian did after said kiss. Looking at her across the car, I knew it was the case.

I had finished work early for a change and picked Lexie up from school to take us on a shopping outing in the next town over.