Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(8)

The men seemed keyed up, so they drank more than usual. I thought it might have been because of the drama of the past few days. Amy and the Cali boys had left yesterday, things seemed wired around the club. I didn’t mind they had decided to turn to alcohol to treat whatever had them so tightly wound. Arianne was right. I needed alcohol to wash off the bitterness that came with my visit to my grandmother.

“Get me a beer, Macy,” Hammer barked at me after I had downed a couple more shots.

I stood, not giving him any shit like I might have the others. That was because Hammer was one of the few in the MC that treated me like I was a second-class citizen because I had a vagina. He was cold, and I never really liked him. But, he was a Son and therefore, part of the family. So I complied, walking to the bar.

I nodded to the bartender, who knew who I was and what I wanted. He gave me a chin lift from the other end where he was serving a customer. I leaned against the bar to wait, and that was when everything seemed to turn quiet. Quiet, with these guys, usually meant bad. I’d been with the club long enough to know that. This quiet was because of the three men who had walked into the bar, standing not too far away from me. I didn’t recognize them, but their shaved heads and a disgusting tattoo publicized the fact they were hateful supremacists communicated they were not in the right place. At all.

Hammer and Levi pushed out of their seats along with Gary, the Prospect, yet to earn his road name.

“Think you’ve taken a wrong turn on the way to Nazitown, f*cker,” Hammer spat, hatefully.

One of the men, with a tattoo marring half his face, scowled at Hammer. Then his eyes moved to Gary. Gary was a new Prospect but well liked, despite the constant hazing he endured. Gary was handsome, in a way that made me think he could have been a male model, in case outlaw didn’t work out for him. Gary was also African American.

The bigot’s face turned into a sneer and he spat at his feet. That gesture, and just being who they were, was enough provocation for Gary to push his fist into the tattooed face. Of course, then everyone got involved in a tangle of arms and punches.

I wasn’t the hugest fan of violence, but being connected to the club, I’d seen my fair share. I’m pretty sure the Sons probably had a special account to pay for the repairs which would be needed after this brawl, evidenced by the fact Hammer slammed someone into a table. I did have some kind of satisfaction watching those animals get pummeled.

My eyes flicked from the growing brawl to the door, even amongst the chaos, I could feel him. Hansen. His blank eyes flipped over the fight with disinterest, then they found mine. They did what they always did, froze me in place. This time, though, they widened in something akin to concern. His frame moved slightly and he yelled something I couldn’t hear over the music and carnage.

Then, a hard body slammed into me, sending me flying. I wasn’t curvy or tall like the other girls. I didn’t just wear heels to complete my outfits, it was also to give me the illusion of height. That’s why the force of such a large and hard body slamming into mine sent me hurtling into a table, which overturned and pain exploded in my head as it hit the dirty floor. I vaguely worried about the fate of my white outfit before I drifted off.





“You guys f*ckin’ think to consider your goddamn surroundings when throwing a punch?” an angry voice yelled.

My head throbbed so I didn’t try to move too much at this point, nor open my eyes.

“She’s f*ckin’ tiny, bro. How the f*ck were we meant to even realize she was there?” a voice argued, sounding slightly apologetic.

“Bitch should’ve gotten out of the way,” another, non-apologetic voice added.

Arms around me tightened, and even with my eyes closed and my mind rather foggy, I could feel the air turn electric.

“You better back the f*ck off and shut that mouth, Hammer,” a beautiful voice, laden with fury said.

I fluttered my eyes and saw I was up in the air, and a familiar stubbled jaw was tight with what I recognized as anger. Then, it moved and eyes settled in on me. Eyes that immediately softened.

I lost my breath slightly.

“Babe,” he said quietly, “you okay?”

I rubbed my head slightly and flinched at the pain. “Yeah, think so, despite having said goodbye to some brain cells,” I told him. I looked around to see a huddle of hard but concerned faces. Well, apart from Hammer, who was scowling. “Why do you boys punch each other when this is what it feels like? Stupid if you ask me,” I muttered, and there were a few chuckles.

“She’s fine. She can still use that smart mouth, means no lasting brain damage,” Levi joked.

Hansen, interestingly, didn’t find anything funny. He stepped forward and the men seemed to disperse, Levi giving Hansen a knowing grin. Jagger gave me a long look before he turned back to the table. The skinheads were nowhere to be found.

“You can put me down now,” I told him, confused as to why we were heading toward the exit. I also didn’t actually want him to put me down, like ever, but I knew it was necessary. I didn’t want to get used to his arms around me. False hope and all that.

Hansen ignored me, continuing toward the door.

“Seriously, a beer and a subsequent shot will fix me right up,” I lied, ignoring the pain.

Hansen glanced down at me. “Jesus,” he shook his head. “Even a blow to the head can’t shake the nut outta you.” His face hardened. “You’re not staying here, and you sure as shit aren’t having anymore to drink.”