Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(26)

He stopped us in front of a shiny, silver BMW. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “This is a freaking nice car. Maybe I should become a lawyer. Selling your soul’s totally profitable,” I commented, my usual lack of filter not hindered by mild alcohol poisoning.

Robert laughed easily and he didn’t seem offended by the ‘selling your soul’ part. He opened the door for me. “Yeah, well, sometimes being a blood sucking lawyer has its perks.” He winked at me as I sank into the leather seats.

I laughed easily, genuinely, for the first time since Jim’s phone call. It felt good.

“So Macy, apart from subjecting yourself to weekly visits to the asylum. What do you do?” Robert asked, after pulling out of the parking lot.

I glanced over at his attractive profile. “I’m a graphic designer, working from home. I’m a full-time computer hermit, part time Lord of The Rings and Star Wars enthusiast,” I told him.

His eyebrows rose. “You’re a graphic designer?” he repeated. “And like Star Wars?”

I grinned slightly. “Why, you don’t think a computer geek can be someone other than a slightly overweight man living in his mom’s basement?” I teased.

He laughed. “No, it’s not that, I just haven’t encountered one quite as interesting and beautiful as you,” he commented.

I blushed. Maybe he wasn’t interested in the purely platonic.

“Our firm’s actually looking for some new logos, website redesign, I might have to look at your work,” he mused, pulling into the parking lot of a trendy looking coffee shop.

And with that, somehow Robert seemed to move my mind out of the dark recesses it had retreated to and made me forget about reality, if only for a while.





Coffee with Robert took me on a little trip. Showed me what life would be like if I was the kind of girl who drank fancy, complicated coffee in sleek cafes. If I dated a guy, who wore three hundred dollar sweaters and drove fifty thousand dollar cars. It was nice. Comfortable even. But it wasn’t me. I knew that. Whatever complications I had with Hansen, whatever shit we had to get through after the last few days, we’d get through it.

So, after a couple of hours on holiday in the real world, I hopped in my car and drove back to my world. The one where I belonged. At least, where I thought I belonged. One step through the doorway of the place I thought of as home had those thoughts, and my heart, shattering into a thousand pieces.





I never forget a face. I wasn’t shit hot with names, but faces I was good with. This particular face was etched into my brain. Ditto with the name. You don’t really forget the guy that shot your parents for apparently seeing something they shouldn’t have. You don’t forget the man who took away your family and ruined your life.

Seems like he wasn’t done taking away my life, my family, because when I walked through the doors to the club, he was sitting in front of the bar smiling and joking with my family. He clapped his hand on Hansen’s back, laughing at something. He was breathing free air. He was laughing with the men I loved. Him. The man who robbed me of everything.

I struggled to breathe as I felt everything collapse around me. My heart seemed to pound so loud it deafened me. I felt my blood go hot and every ounce of anger I’d swallowed over the years seemed to burn through my veins.

I didn’t register anything. Not Hansen’s shocked face as he saw me standing in the doorway, not the way that Grim’s level gaze darted from the animal to me. Not Jagger calmly walking up to me, trying to direct me gently out the door. Nothing.

All I saw was the gun tucked into Jagger’s jeans, visible from the angle he was leaning to get me out the door. Because he was doing that, he didn’t expect me to yank the gun out of his belt, calmly switch off the safety and rush to where Hansen was sitting. Everyone seemed to freeze as I lifted the barrel and shot through the face that had been etched into my brain for twelve years.

The gunshot served as something to slow my heart, to regain sound. I felt something warm splatter on my face and then there were arms around me, frenzied curses, a huge amount of not so organized chaos. I didn’t really pay attention to it. The anger seeped away as someone yanked the gun out of my hands, and I was half carried by familiar arms to the sofa area. I felt numb. Seeing everything going on around me, but not registering it. My ears rang slightly.

“Holy f*ck!” I heard someone yell.

“Make sure no one heard that shit. Get this place locked down and the body out of sight now,” Grim’s calm voice demanded.

Hansen’s face dominated my vision and stopped me from focusing on the surrounding commands. His face was concerned, on the edge of panic.

“Macy, look at me,” he said calmly, his voice not betraying a thing. His hands grasped the sides of my neck.

I looked at him blankly.

“Talk to me, baby,” he pleaded softly.

I stayed silent. I was looking at him, but not really seeing him. It was almost like I was looking through him. I felt like I’d taken a handful of Xanax or smoked an insane amount of weed. Everything was fuzzy.

“Hansen, you need to get Macy the f*ck out of here now. Levi’s with you,” a sharp voice ordered.

My eyes moved over to Grim, who was standing watching me with cold eyes. Levi stood behind him, his usually carefree face hard and slightly pale.