Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC Book Book 8) Page 31

  Kace’s expression sobered, and I instantly regretted saying anything. “Ah, I get it. Thinks that getting too close to people, especially male type figures, may end up with him alone, confused, hurt.”

  I nodded.

  “And him saying that to you would’ve broken your fuckin’ heart,” he continued softly.

  I nodded again, trying to hold my tears back.

  Kace dried his hands and moved around the breakfast bar, twirling me in my chair so he was standing in between my legs. He grasped either side of my neck. “Wish I could protect you from this. From any kind of fuckin’ pain. You’ve had enough. If you let me, I’ll love you every day of my life. Do everything to make sure it’s a long one. I’ll love your kids too. I won’t ask you to love me. Not right now. But I’ll wear you down. eventually”

  I stared at him.

  I’d known Kace loved me for some time now. He wasn’t exactly hiding it. He’d been saying it with everything but words. But I was well practiced at denial. An expert in it, some would say. So I’d chosen not to think about what I knew deep down.

  Now I had no choice

  And I did already love him. Evie had called me out on that. Something else I’d been denying.

  No way I could say it out loud, though. Not even now.

  It felt like it would be a curse. Among other things, it felt too soon. Too permanent.

  So I didn’t say it back. Though large parts of me really wanted to.

  “Why did you choose this?” I mused. “This complicated, arduous, hard version of love. Of life. Why did you walk over to me that night? Why did you mow my lawn? Why did you choose to love me?”

  “The night at the club wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he answered. “I was running on the beach early in the morning. My first morning here. My mind was rushing. Moving. Questioning my decisions, my actions, haunting me with things I’ve done. Something that happens a lot. Can’t get out of this lifestyle, this world unscathed. Even if you were born for it. Even if you love it.”

  Kace’s hands moved up and down my arms.

  “The things that you love scar you the most, after all,” he murmured. “So I don’t sleep well, when that scar tissue hurts. And I run. No one was on the beach. No one but you. You were just standing there. At the edge of the water. You were wearing PJs. And a jacket. An old one. Much too big for you.”

  I remembered that. It was after one of our nights at Evie’s. We had stayed the night. Because of whisky. Because I’d been using any excuse not to sleep in the bed that didn’t smell of my husband anymore.

  The kids liked it. Being around family. They probably also liked being away from their beds, ones their father had tucked them into for their entire lives up until then.

  I’d woken from a nightmare. Or I guess you could call it a good dream, since Ranger was still alive in it. We were sitting by the ocean, my back to his front. His hands were wrapped around me, and I felt safe. Warm.

  The nightmare began when I woke up. Cold, because I’d kicked off all the covers. Because I was alone.

  It hit me then, much harder than it had up until that moment. That my husband would only ever exist in my dreams. That I would never smell him, feel him again.

  It was as if a scalding hot knife had ripped through my belly. I didn’t think then, I’d just grabbed my keys and left, knowing that the kids were safe, sleeping, had Evie there if I wasn’t there when they woke up.

  I didn’t remember the drive to the beach. Which was a bad thing when you were the only remaining parent of two beautiful children. Luckily, it was too early for anyone in Amber to be awake, and I made it there without incident.

  The ocean was the wrong place to go. As soon as I set foot on the sand, I knew that. Recreating my dream wasn’t going to make him magically appear. But maybe that had been what I’d needed then. To know there was no way out of this. That there weren’t going to be any miracles. I needed to be comfortable in my nightmare.

  I didn’t remember anyone else being on the beach with me. I did remember feeling more alone than I ever had in my entire life. I was far too occupied by the pain I was in to notice any other living thing. Too focused on one dead man.

  “You stopped me in my tracks,” Kace recalled. “Literally. It was like I ran into a wall. Something about you. The way you fucking stood. I watched you for a long time. You didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. But something about you told me all you wanted to do was scream. Open yourself up. Sink to your knees and break. But you didn’t. You just stood there. I didn’t know anything about you then. Didn’t know who you were other than you were a woman in unimaginable pain. Yet you were still standing.”

  His eyes moved across my face. “When I saw you at the party, you had that same look. I couldn’t help myself. I had to know you. And I know that you don’t feel the same way, fuck, I know it’s impossible for you to feel the same way after what you’ve been through. But I loved you already. Love at first sight sounds cheesy as fuck, and it also sounds like a line, but I swear to fuck it’s not. There was a magic about you. In your pain. Your brokenness. I didn’t want to fix you. I just wanted to fuckin’ know you. See if I could possibly create a miracle and make you fall in love with me.”

  “You can’t say things like that,” I choked out. “All of these romantic, crazy, heartfelt things. Not all in one go. I can’t, I’m not... ready for all that.”

  Kace smiled then leaned in to kiss me hard and quick. “That’s fine, baby. I’m a patient man. Plus, you can write about all the romantic, heartfelt things I say.” He nodded to my laptop screen which he knew better than to look at directly.

  Despite myself and all the intense, serious things I was feeling right then, I laughed. “Yeah right, no one would believe a real-life man would say things like that.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t need anyone to believe the things I’m saying but you.” He paused. “Do you believe me, Lizzie?” he questioned, voice quiet.

  I didn’t move my eyes from his. “Yes,” I admitted, my heart on my sleeve. “Yeah, I’m starting to believe you, Kace.”

  And there it was. The beginning of the end.

  Chapter 22

  I should’ve known better.

  I’d been around for enough Sons of Templar courtships to know the drill.

  Then again, I wasn’t exactly thinking of this as a Sons of Templar courtship. I’d spent a lot of time in denial, thinking this was little more than sex. Denial born out of fear. Fear that I could feel this way so quickly. Fear of what my choices might me doing to my kids. Fear at what kind of mother and person people would think me to be.

  Mostly terror at the prospect of loving someone again.

  Of losing them.

  But Kace managed to cut through every layer of fear and land himself under my skin. Among my scars.

  It took me by surprise that I wasn’t prepared for more. I’d lapsed into some false sense that there was a quota on how much pain and drama the world can serve you.

  When it comes to love and the Sons of Templar, it was a fucking buffet.

  It was only lucky that the kids were with Kace. He’d decided to take them fishing. Lily, my little princess who wore dresses and plastic heels agreed to fishing. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised me, since her dad had always managed to get her to do all of the things that she would’ve turned up her nose at had anyone else suggested them.

  Kace was under her skin too.

  So it was good that none of them where there when I got home to a woman in my kitchen pointing a gun at me.

  I didn’t recognize her, though she definitely seemed to be aligned with the MC crowd. She was dressed in biker babe chic, without the chic.

  Her frayed denim mini was on the wrong side of short, even for the MC crowd. It showed off skinny, blotchy legs. Her boots were cheap and scuffed, her bra showing through the stained white tank she was wearing. Her arms and chest were covered in a mishmash of tattoos, her neck as well. Though her bleached blonde hair had ab
out an inch of roots and hadn’t seen a brush in a while, it looked like she’d put a lot of makeup on for the occasion, a smear of bright pink lipstick and heavy black liner around her eyes.

  “Who are you?” I asked calmly, not moving, but calculating the distance I was from the hall, where I would be covered for hopefully long enough to run into the bedroom, lock the door and retrieve a gun of my own.

  It was a risky move, and her finger was on the trigger of the gun, meaning she was not here to fuck around. She could be a crappy shot. Might be clumsy. But I wasn’t going to risk making my kids orphans on coulds and mights.

  It was also risky to stay where I was since she could’ve just shot me and been done with it. But she was the woman who had been fucking with me. I knew it. She wasn’t going to shoot me now. Why go to all that trouble to torture me for a quick kill?

  “I’m the Old Lady of the man your husband fucking killed!” she snapped, spittle flying from her mouth. Her eyes were wide, her movements jerky. She was either high or just insane. Both equally dangerous when combined with a gun.

  If I could get the gun off her, I had a good chance. She was skinny, weak looking. Ranger had trained me in fighting, self-defense. We’d sparred at the gym once a week right up until he died.

  Plus there was the fact I had a whole lot to fight for. But you couldn’t discount the crazy biker bitch with a gun.

  “My husband is dead,” I told her flatly.

  “Don’t I fucking know that?” she yelled, shaking the gun at me. “Fucker died before I could even get my revenge. Been planning it for a long time too. Watching you fucks.”

  Something unnerved me a lot about that. This woman was not crazy. She was heartbroken. She’d lost someone she loved. She’d let in the ugliness that came with that. Let in the evil, the fury, and she’d decided to lay ruin to the world that had ruined her.

  Not only that, she was smart... in there somewhere. She obviously had known about the Sons—I was guessing her husband was part of a rival MC—and knew that going in halfcocked with no plan wasn’t going to serve her. She’d been patient enough to wait. To learn. Her revenge was being served cold.

  “Your club is full of fucking pretty boy pussies and their stupid cunt wives. Their kids. My Old Man’s club is still too fucking scared to retaliate. Like they’re full of pimply eighteen-year olds instead of men. No surprise a woman needs to do it all. Surely you know that, being an Old Lady and all.”

  Though she was clearly emotional, clearly out of her right mind, she kept her finger on the trigger, keeping the gun pointed squarely at me. If I moved, she’d pull it. I knew that. It might miss me. Might clip me. Might hit me straight in the head.

  I thought of the bullet holes in Ranger’s body the night he died.

  That couldn’t be both of us.

  Our children couldn’t bury two parents full of lead and hate.

  “I know that being an Old Lady is accepting the fact your Old Man goes out every day with a goal of staying alive. He also knows that there’s a chance he won’t get to come home that night. That’s the commitment he makes when he puts on a cut. That’s the commitment we make when we stay by their sides,” I said, keeping my eyes on her. I was furious at her for coming into my home, ruining what I’d built.

  But I made sure that my fury didn’t leech into my voice. This was not the time to lose it. This bitch wanted to talk. She would’ve shot me otherwise. So I’d keep her talking until my moment came.

  “You don’t get to play the victim or the villain here,” I continued. “You think you’re special because your Old Man died? That it gives you the right to take something away from my family, my kids? That’s not going to change shit except you’re gonna be on the run for the rest of your life, which will be short because no matter what you think of my club, they will end you for this.”

  “Shut up, bitch!” she screamed, shaking the gun.

  “I won’t,” I stated calmly. “Because you know I’m right. You know that if you pull that trigger on me you may as well turn it right on yourself. It’ll be quicker. More humane. The Sons might’ve gone legit, but the second you cross them in a way like this, the law doesn’t mean shit. They’ll rip you apart.”

  Her eyes flared with fear at this. She knew I was telling the truth. I didn’t know what club she used to be with, but they probably weren’t on the straight and narrow like the Sons. And they probably didn’t fiercely protect their women like the Sons. They’d hang her out to dry or deliver her personally to the Sons if she did this.

  “I know that the pain of losing someone you love makes you want to die. Makes you want to kill,” I continued. “But you don’t really want to die. And if you kill me, that’s what will happen.”

  “Fuck,” she hissed. Uncertainty clouded her face. The gun moved as she ran her fingers through her hair, as if she was momentarily forgetting that she was holding a gun.

  I didn’t hesitate. This was the moment. To make sure I tucked my kids in tonight. That I went to sleep beside Kace.

  I charged.

  My body hit hers with a thump. We both landed on the floor, hard. The impact jarred me, but my hands were already on hers, yanking for the gun.

  A shot resounded through my house only seconds later.

  I was sitting on the porch when Kace arrived. The police had arrived first. Because I’d called them first. I’d been an Old Lady for a long time. Lived in this town my entire life. I knew that back in the day, the police were on the Son’s payroll. As long as there wasn’t any blowback on Amber, they didn’t bother them. Certainly didn’t arrest them.

  Things had changed, though. There was a new sheriff in town. Not Luke. Who definitely never would’ve been on the Sons’ payroll. But he was in love with Rosie, the daughter of the president, so he’d never hurt the club. Because he knew that hurting the club and hurting Rosie was one in the same.

  So he gave up his badge for Rosie. Moved to L.A. to work at Greenstone Security. Did his best to rein her in.

  Rosie wasn’t one to be reined in. Only a few months ago, she’d gotten involved with a movie star turned murder witness turned target of an organized crime boss. Things would never be boring with them.

  Or me, as it seemed.

  The new sheriff knew the score with the Sons. She was young, for a sheriff. Pretty too. In a hard way. She had a kid, slightly younger than Lily; I’d seen her at school drop-off sometimes. No husband. She had become acquainted with the Sons when she first arrived. They seemed to be on good terms. She’d looked the other way during the war that had been impossible to ignore. The one that stole my husband from me.

  But I was erring on the side of caution now. I wasn’t going to have Kace at the scene before the cops.

  I’d planned on calling him after I made my statement. But I should’ve known better. We had Wire, who was likely listening in on all 911 calls, especially ones that were being called to my house and involved the word ‘death’.

  The roar of the bike sounded just after I’d given my initial statement. The sheriff said it was obvious self-defense, but I’d need to come down to the station anyway.

  I’d expected this.

  And the look on Kace’s face when he leapt off his motorcycle.

  Cade, Brock, Gage, Asher, Bull and Gage rolled up behind him.

  “What the fuck, Lizzie?” Kace seethed, hauling me up, eyes wide as he took in the blood staining my shirt.

  “It’s not mine,” I reassured him.

  “I know it’s not fucking yours,” he clipped. “What I need to know is why you’re covered in blood, why the cops are here and why I didn’t get a fucking phone call.”

  His hands were tight on my upper arms.

  “Easy, brother,” Gage commanded from behind him.

  The men were all hanging behind, Cade on the phone, likely making plans, getting lawyers prepared should I need them. Instructing his wife to take care of the kids.

  Kace didn’t acknowledge that Gage had even spoken. His furious
glare remained focused on me. I saw past that, though. Saw the fear.

  “Honey, I called the police first because they needed to arrive first,” I explained calmly. “You know that.”

  “I know my woman is covered in blood, white as a sheet, sitting on her fucking own and I’m not clued in as to what’s going on,” he snapped.

  Gage stepped closer. My eyes found his, and I gave him a look to show it was okay. He stopped moving but stayed close.

  “It was an Old Lady,” I announced. “Of another club. She was the one doing this. Not Edmond. Not anyone from your past. Ranger had been involved in her Old Man’s death. Who knows how long ago? She wanted to punish me. She wanted to kill me. I didn’t let that happen.”

  Kace stared at me, fury melting off his face. He yanked me into his arms. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured into my hair.

  He didn’t let me go for a long time.

  Not until the police came back and needed more statements.

  Kace let me go then. But he wouldn’t let go of my hand. Straight up refused to let me go anywhere without him. Normally, that wasn’t something that police would be down with. But this was Amber. Kace was wearing a Sons of Templar cut.

  We found out much later who she was. Nicole Felix. Her Old Man had been a member of the Hell’s Renegades. Years ago, they’d tried to steal business from the Sons. The Sons hit back. There was blood. A lot of it.

  It was likely I had washed the blood of her Old Man off my husband’s clothes.

  There had been a peace treaty between the two clubs, only after the Sons made it clear they would exterminate them if they didn’t back down.

  It seemed that she had held on to this for a long time. Let everything inside her fester and turn rotten. The Sons made a visit to the Hell’s Renegades and had been convinced Nicole was acting on their own. There was still a healthy fear for the Sons of Templar MC across the country.

  As for me?

  I survived.

  Which was all that mattered.

  Two Months Later