Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(17)

I gaped at Levi, and Hansen went slightly stiff. Something seemed to register because he squeezed me tighter and grinned at Levi. “Fuck off,” he said lightly.

Levi winked at me then sat down next to us, sipping his beer and shooting the shit, like normal. Only this time, Hansen’s arm was firmly wrapped around my chest, pulling me flush to his back.

It felt kind of weird being in this position when various men came to exchange the odd teasing greeting but otherwise treated us as if we’d been together for longer than say, a day. It also felt nice. Right. Like I’d slipped into a sweater I didn’t think would fit, but hugged every inch of me like it had been made for me.

I settled into Hansen’s back, thinking maybe, the other shoe might not drop at all.

A couple of hours and a nice beer buzz later, I made my way to the bathroom, trailing my fingers along the pictures in the hallway. When I was out of view of the common room, I was slammed painfully against those very pictures I’d been tenderly looking at.

Hammer’s body pressed against mine, and his alcohol-laden breath permeated my senses.

“Think now your snatch has captured Hansen’s attention you can cut off everyone else?” he hissed in my face.

“Step back,” I told him firmly, striving to keep the shaking out of my voice. Hammer might be a misogynistic *, but he was also a Son. Therefore, he would respect the rules that came with the fact. Hopefully.

He ignored me, his hand gripping my hip painfully.

“Once a club whore, always a club whore,” he shot cruelly.

“Step back, Hammer,” I repeated.

Again, he ignored me. “I don’t think Hansen’s gonna want tainted goods, once he realizes every man in this club’s had a taste of that *,” he continued, his words hitting their mark.

That’s it. I was done. I may be small, but I didn’t lie to Hansen. Living the life I’d lived, in the neighborhood I’d lived it, I knew how to take care of myself. Which was why I brought my knee up to his crotch. Hard.

He cried out and stumbled back, gripping between his legs.

“Bitch,” he shouted his eyes slits.

“What’s going on here?” a deep and pissed off voice asked.

I moved my eyes to land on Grim, the club president and all around scary mofo. He was old, his hair more salt than pepper, his tanned face showing more than a few lines as evidence of his age. He wore it well and was still in pretty good shape, his tattoo-covered arms were also defined with muscle. He had an Old Lady, who he was faithful to, which meant I’d never really been in his immediate presence. He also scared the shit out of me. He hardly ever cracked a smile and always looked ready to knife someone, hence the road name.

“Bitch f*ckin’ kneed me in the balls,” Hammer told him, glaring at me.

“Snitch,” I hissed.

I could be in serious shit here. A woman, a relative second class citizen in this world could not lay their hands on a patched member. As I well knew.

Grim’s eyes settled on me. “Macy, with me,” he ordered briskly, walking past me and in the direction of the door titled ‘Church.’

Hammer grinned at me evilly and I followed on wooden legs.

Church was a place no woman was allowed and somewhere where I guessed I would be getting banished from my family. My heart sank. Not even a week of living my dream and it’d already shot it to shit.

Classic Macy.

I was mentally thinking about how I’d bury myself in my fantasy world of Middle Earth to try and escape the pain of being exiled from the only family I’d had for twelve years.

“Shut the door behind you and sit down,” Grim commanded.

I silently complied, sitting slightly down in front of him. I met his eyes. I didn’t offer an explanation, or excuses. Hammer was in the wrong, but I wasn’t going to even bother telling Grim that. His loyalty would be with his brother, not some club whore turned Old Lady. Hammer’s treatment of me showed I was unlikely to be considered a true Old Lady.

He regarded me levelly. “Been with Linda almost fifteen years,” he declared, taking me totally off guard. He didn’t address my no doubt wide eyes. “Longer than most of the boys in this chapter have been around,” he continued, clasping his hands together. “Which means, save a couple of lifers, no one knows Linda used to hold a position in the club very different than the President’s Old Lady,” he told me.

I got what he was alluding to. And it knocked my preverbal socks right off. Linda was the quintessential biker queen. Even pushing fifty, she was a beauty, albeit slightly hard. Every single one of the men treated her like the matriarch she was. Though she could be equally as scary as Grim, she’d always treated most of the club girls with respect. Well, apart from Kim, but she was a total bitch, who tried her best to flirt with Grim when no one was looking. She was kind of my hero. The woman I had always wanted to be.

“Found it difficult, she did, transitioning from who she was to Old Lady,” he continued. “Thought I’d have a problem with it. I didn’t,” he told me firmly. “Didn’t give a shit who came before me, long as no one came after me. Brothers accepted it readily. Bitch was born to be an Old Lady. She had to find that out for herself, though. Decide if the club, the way we lived, was for her. That was her way of finding out.” Grim’s clear gray eyes didn’t leave mine. “No one thought any less of her. I sure as shit didn’t. Long as she was loyal to me, loved me, loved the club, other shit meant nothing. You’d do well to remember that,” Grim finished.