Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC Book Book 8) Page 25

I was halfway through loading my groceries into the car. I wasn’t about to leave any of it all; our finances weren’t really conducive to me abandoning a week’s worth of groceries just because of some asshole who didn’t like to be rejected.

  Plus, it took a lot more to scare me than a guy with a three-hundred-dollar haircut and shoes that cost more than my car payments.

  I kept unloading my groceries from the cart when he stopped in front of me.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I proclaimed.

  “I wanted to come over here and apologize,” Edmond replied, sounding sensible, sheepish and nothing like the man on my doorstep weeks ago.

  I sighed. Straightened. Looked at Edmond. “You don’t need to apologize. Not because what you did and said aren’t worth apologizing for, they sure as hell are, but I honestly don’t want to be here while you try to trick yourself into thinking a few empty words make you a good man,” I snapped.

  His eyes flickered with that anger he’d kept so well locked down on our date. “My behavior was beyond atrocious.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “It was completely out of character for me,” he continued. “I was raised to respect women. To treat them with dignity and respect.”

  “Well, you sure as hell didn’t do that,” I told him.

  He looked down at his shoes, doing very well at playing humble. Which was what he was doing. Playing. “Yeah, I didn’t. My mother would be ashamed of me. I let my feelings get the best of me. And I do have feelings for you. Unlike I’ve had for any woman.”

  I put the last of the groceries in my trunk, pushing the cart to the return spot because people that didn’t do that were assholes. I had the sneaking suspicion that Edmond was not a cart returning person.

  Though he did follow me when I went.

  “You don’t know me well enough to have any of those kinds of feelings,” I retorted while walking.

  “I know enough about you,” he countered. “And I want to know more. Want another chance. I’m better for you, for your kids, than some... biker.” He spat the word out like he was describing a serial killer.

  Oh, no he didn’t.

  I whirled around, stopping in my tracks. “No, you are not better than him or any of them,” I hissed. “You’re much, much worse. Now do yourself a favor, and leave me alone.”

  I tried to turn back to my car, but a hand on my upper arm stopped me. Squeezing hard. To the point of pain.

  “Please,” he begged.

  I looked down to his hand still gripping my arm. It was smooth. The nails manicured. Feminine somehow. But they were still going to leave a mark. Because he wanted to.

  “Take your hand off me, right now,” I instructed calmly.

  “If you’ll just listen to me.”

  Nope. I was done listening. I raised my hand and moved it fluidly, connecting with his nose, happy to hear the crunch. I hoped that meant a bone broke, so I’d ruin the perfect symmetry to his face.

  The hand at my arm fell off as he doubled over to hold his nose, now bleeding.

  “A little word to the wise, since they obviously didn’t teach it to you in law school. You don’t put your hands on a woman, and you definitely don’t keep them on a woman when she asks you to let go. Now, you don’t leave me alone, it won’t be a biker that’s teaching you a lesson, it’ll be me. Biker sluts know how to hurt a lawyer just as good as the men in cuts.”

  I turned on my heel and walked away, smiling despite the dull ache in my fist from the impact on bone. It was the first time I’d had to punch someone in the face. My life was lived among violence, but enough people knew I belonged to Ranger, belonged to the club, they weren’t near stupid enough to do anything that required me to punch them in the face.

  But times had changed. I was the one who had to defend myself now. Sure it hurt, but all I was was pain these days. And I liked it.

  This time, I didn’t feel it when I came home. Didn’t get the same feeling that had me going for the gun and almost shooting one of my closest friends.

  Maybe I was distracted, still pissed off from the interaction with Edmond. Overwhelmed with what my life was now. Distracted by the knowledge that Kace would notice the swelling of my knuckles and the purplish bruising already blooming on my upper arm. As much as I’d love to have a front row seat to his visit with Edmond, I didn’t need the drama. And I had the feeling that Kace going after him would only make things worse. Edmond would run with his tail between his legs, for a while to be sure. But this was a man used to getting everything he wanted. Used to the world bending to him. He definitely hadn’t ever been punched in the face by a woman.

  So he’d try something. I couldn’t guess what, but it would be something sly, something shady. It wouldn’t really hurt the club. Or maybe it would. I couldn’t tell how fucked up this guy was. But I wasn’t about to risk the club for my honor. That was long gone.

  I’d showered, trying to get the echo of Edmond’s hands off me.

  No way had I led a sheltered life since Ranger patched in. I’d seen some of the worst humanity had to offer, losing one of my good friends in the most brutal of ways. My husband too. But I’d never been hurt physically before. Never had a man touched me without my permission. Edmond’s casual violence, the possession in his touch, unnerved me. Left me more shaken than it should’ve.

  Hence the shower. With all of the fancy, and I guessed very expensive bath and body products, thanks to Amy and Gwen. My plan was to put on my most expensive, sexiest lingerie—of which I had a lot, I loved it and Ranger appreciated the hell out of it—put on a badass outfit and make myself feel like the strong, confident woman I was pretending to be.

  That plan went to shit when I opened my underwear drawer. There was no lace. Just cold, slithering, writhing snakes.

  The blood curdling scream I let out kind of shot the strong, confident woman thing straight to hell.

  “That’s the last of them,” Lucky declared, shivering. “Fucking hate snakes.”

  He looked even paler than I was. Then again, I’d been sitting in the living room with a bottle of tequila and Evie and Ashley by my side whereas Lucky, Gage and Kace had been in charge of getting rid of the snakes that were residing in my underwear drawer, and looking for places where others might’ve been.

  Luckily for all of us, there weren’t any another cold-blooded creature of hell in my home. Nothing in the kid’s bedrooms, which I’d made them check twice.

  Kace had been stone faced since he’d arrived minutes after I’d called him. I was pretty proud of the fact I hadn’t been as hysterical as I’d felt. Which was pretty fucking hysterical. I’d calmly told him about the situation, and he’d yelled at me to get out of the house and lock myself in the car until he got there.

  He was likely afraid that whoever put the snakes in my underwear drawer was still in the house. But I wasn’t exactly worried about that, since if someone had been in there waiting to kill me, they would’ve done it while I was in the shower. No one was more vulnerable than when they were naked.

  So I didn’t lock myself in the car. Didn’t let whatever this was shut me out of my own home. My children’s home. I’d poured myself a drink, sat on my couch—after I’d checked it for snakes with a broomstick—and waited. Granted, I didn’t have to wait long for Kace to arrive, then half the club.

  He’d been most unhappy to find me sitting on the sofa instead of locked up in the car like he’d told me to be.

  “What the fuck, Lizzie?” he hissed, rushing toward me, eyes raking over my body, looking for signs of mortal injury. He didn’t see the bruises on my arms because I’d managed to put on a big, fluffy robe since I couldn’t exactly greet everyone terrified and naked in only a towel.

  That wasn’t Old Lady behavior. Well, Old Lady behavior would’ve been to get dressed in badass jeans, boots and a full face of makeup. But I wasn’t that brave. I also was pretty sure at least one snake had escaped, and I had no idea whether they were poisonous or not. I
figured if someone went to all the trouble of filling my drawer with snakes, they weren’t going to do it with harmless ones.

  “I told you to sit outside,” he gritted out.

  “You might not know this about me, sweetheart, but I don’t do whatever a man commands me to do. I sure as shit don’t lock myself in a car, terrified of some cold worms with long teeth,” I snapped back.

  “Tell him, sista,” Lucky muttered. “Though, I’d definitely lock myself in the car. Snakes.” He shivered. “Got any rubber gloves?”

  “Get in the fucking bedroom,” Cade barked.

  Lucky obeyed his president, but he did not look happy about it.

  Kace looked like he really wanted to say more about the whole situation, but luckily Cade was there to save the day, meaning that he was the first to verbally ask if I was okay—because that was the kind of guy that Cade was.

  After that, it was a blur of activity.

  Evie arrived first.

  Then Ashley.

  I was sure that other women would’ve come if not for the fact that there was a chance of something bad lurking somewhere. But their husbands probably banned them from coming. Not that that would stop them, mind you. I sent a group text telling everyone I was fine and that we would debrief over cocktails the next day.

  Olive was picking the kids up from school, filling in for me after I’d told her I had something urgent come up. Rest assured, I wasn’t going to tell her the details. She’d been happy over the years to know the bare minimum when it came to the club.

  Evie and Ashley were here because they did not have men in cuts telling them what to do—though Wire shot Ashely a look when he entered the house.

  Various men came through the house, checking for explosives, other creatures or recording devices.

  They found none, thankfully.

  But they also found that the snakes in my underwear drawer were highly venomous. This little tidbit had Kace checking me for bites once again. I was dressed by then, thankfully Evie had brought clothes with sleeves long enough to cover the marks on my arms.

  Once all was declared safe, the men started to disperse. But not without promises of vengeance, expressing their determination in finding whoever this was and ending them. I trusted them to do so. I would not lose a single wink of sleep, knowing this person was going to die.

  The watch was back on now. Kace was going to go DEFCON level alpha, no doubt.

  Ashely and Evie eventually left. Evie had offered me and the kids to come and stay at her place, but I’d refused. Exactly like she had expected me too. Nothing was scaring me out of my home.

  Olive was going to have the kids for dinner so I could get my shit under control. So I could do my own check of the house. So I could have a conversation with Kace. Or so he could have a conversation with me. The testosterone was almost leaking out his ears at this point.

  He paced the kitchen while I made M&M tea.

  “This is my shit. Coming to haunt me. Haunting you. It fucking has to be,” he grated out, running a hand through his hair.

  I frowned at him, pouring M&Ms into a mug. “How does this have anything to do with you?”

  Kace stopped pacing to stare at me. “Because, the Sons are legit now. The Amber chapter doesn’t have the kind of enemies who go after Old Ladies. Who’d do this fucked up shit. My old chapter... we did. Thought I’d cut ties. Thought I could come here to start a new life. But fuck!” he yelled the last word. I jumped, not expecting the outburst. The violence in it.

  I was also jumpy because, well, there were fucking snakes in my underwear drawer this morning.

  “You think that someone or something has not only followed you, but stalked you for long enough to see that you were in a relationship with me? And then stalked me for long enough to know my routines and then do cowardly things like cutting my brakes or putting fucking snakes in my underwear drawer?” I asked. “No, that’s not exactly the style of any guy in the MC life.”

  Kace stared at me. I could tell he wanted to argue because he wanted to take the blame for this, wanted to shoulder all of the responsibility, even if it didn’t make sense. That’s who Kace was. That’s who all of these men were. They appreciated their women. They knew our strength, but they’d never want us to have to use it.

  “Yeah, but you don’t exactly live the life of someone who has secret enemies who like to torment them and attempt to murder them,” he retorted.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “If this doesn’t have anything to do with me or the club, and that’s a big fucking if, babe, it was that lawyer fucker, I know it,” he hissed.

  The club had already sufficiently scared the shit out of Edmond. Lucky had given me the play-by-play in a tone that had told me Edmond had embarrassed the shit out of himself. Much like I’d expected him to.

  Then again, he wasn’t scared enough by the looks of our interaction today. But he also wasn’t the one to put the snakes in my drawers, considering I was punching him in the face around the time someone was doing that.

  But Cade had been convinced that he was not the one who cut my brakes, and on the slim chance he had, he had far too much self-preservation to try anything else.

  Kace, on the other hand, had not let it go.

  I rubbed my arms without thinking, trying to figure out how in the fuck I was going to hide the bruises—that would only grow darker—from him. The time was long passed where I could push him away. Where I could reject his touch. Ignore my need for him. Sure, if I really meant it, he wouldn’t touch me.

  The problem was, I could never mean it. Couldn’t even pretend to mean it.

  Kace noticed the way I rubbed my arms, the way my face looked when I did it.

  “Baby,” he said slowly. “Let me see your arms.”

  Fuck.

  There was no way around it. Especially not now. If I had showed him right away, the bruises wouldn’t be quite as dark.

  “I don’t want you to freak out,” I responded, not moving.

  “The fact you’re saying that means that I’ve got something to be freaked out about,” he snapped. “Now show me your fucking arms.”

  Though every feminist bone in my body told me to rebel against such a command uttered in that way, I slowly did as he said.

  “It’s going to look worse than it is,” I warned, pulling my sleeves up. “You know better than anyone about how easily I bruise. But I saw Edmond at the grocery store today—which clears him of being the snake person. He made it clear he wanted to continue some kind of relationship with me. But I made it clear that most definitely wasn’t happening. I tried to walk away. He tried to stop me.”

  That’s when I showed him my arms.

  Kace stilled completely. His eyes zeroed in on the reddish-purple marks on my upper arms. He didn’t say a word. Not for a long time. But the energy that was radiating off him scared the shit out of me.

  “He is fucking dead,” he whispered.

  My blood turned cold, and I gripped his arm firmly, scared he was going to run off and commit murder right then.

  “No,” I implored. “Kace, look at me.”

  His eyes stayed glued to my arms. “He put his fucking hands on you, Lizzie. He’s made it clear he’s got no sense, no respect and no will to live.”

  “You’re not going to kill him,” I repeated gently.

  Kace’s eyes finally met mine. They weren’t full of fire or rage. No, they were cold and empty, the mask of the man who’d worn the same cut and a wedding ring for many years. Ranger wore that same expression when he came home covered in blood. When he tried to push me away. When he was preparing to do something that would stain his soul. He wore it on the night he died.

  “He put his hands on you,” Kace repeated. “He did that, there’s a high fucking chance he’s responsible for the other shit too.”

  “Honey,” I beseeched. “Think about it. Edmond obviously thinks of me as some kind of conquest, something that he wants only because he can’t have it. It make
s no sense that he would want to try to kill me or torture me with snakes. It’s not exactly his style.”

  “Men who want something special, want something precious and they know deep down that they never gonna get it, do shit that ain’t got nothing to do with style. Beyond that, this fucker is bad. I see that in him. No matter what kind of suit he wears or car he drives. Even if he didn’t do that shit, he put his hands on my Old Lady. He’s going to fucking pay.”

  I wasn’t surprised by this. This came with the life. Though many people on the outside thought that Old Ladies were thought of as property, possessions, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  The men in the Sons of Templar cherished their women. Treasured them. Worshipped them. They took it as their personal responsibility to keep them safe. Happy. Unharmed. So when shit happened to put them in danger, hurt them, these men took it as a personal failure.

  Losing Laurie had nearly killed Bull.

  What happened to Bex had broken Lucky in a way that meant he’d never shine or smile quite the same.

  Same with everything that had happened to Gwen, Amy, Lauren, Lily and Mia.

  These men took the hits like they’d landed directly on them.

  It was part of the MC code. Anyone who touched or harmed an Old Lady had to pay. I’d decided it was just the heat of the moment, Kace calling me that. That was something I could not handle right now.

  “He will pay,” I promised. “Eventually. You can go and threaten him, punch him once if you must, and do whatever you gotta do. But right now, I need you to say here. With me. With the kids. We’ve had enough violence and hurt to last us for a long while. So how about we just try our best not to go and seek more out? It’ll find us soon enough.”

  Kace did not look happy about this, all of his alpha instincts screaming at him right now. There was anger in him that needed to be released.

  I led Kace to the couch, and he thankfully let himself be led. I moved to climb on him, straddling him. “For now, I’m sure you’ve got some energy you need to release, and I suggest you direct it at me.” I moved, grinding myself against him.