Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC Book Book 8) Read online

  “That’s why you patched in?” I asked. “Because you were hoping the club might kill you?”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have been mad if it did. But no, wasn’t exactly looking to die. Just looking to hurt in a different way. Ranger is the reason I found the club. He was going through his own kind of pain, somehow convinced me to come back here with him. To the club. I went because I had nowhere else to go. He went because it was the only place for him to go. To be with you.” He took a swig. “You took him back when he came back because that’s who you are. Knew that he needed to be gone. He knows you need to be gone now too.”

  “And he just let you come to retrieve me?” I asked.

  Gage grinned. Or at least his version of a grin, a slight twitch of his mouth. “Oh, fuck no. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

  I stared at Gage. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Figured you were gone for a reason. That you needed to be away for a reason. Shit you went through isn’t simple. You need time to sit at a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere and drink crappy vodka, that’s fine. Won’t force you to say shit. Just gonna sit here and make sure no opportunistic asshole tries to hurt you while you’re going through this.”

  And he did exactly that.

  He sat beside me for six hours, leaving only to get water and a greasy hamburger that he forced me to eat. Eventually, the bottle was empty, and I was ready to go home.

  Ranger was waiting for me.

  With no hatred. No judgement. Only love.

  It was enough to get me through it all.

  Not unscathed, of course. We were both scarred now. Our marriage too. Things would be hard. I’d be distant for months, and Ranger would be frustrated that I wouldn’t talk, that he couldn’t help, that he didn’t know how to handle his own pain.

  But we survived.

  Chapter 6

  “Evie, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, jostling Jack on my hip. He immediately reached for the leather clad woman who smelled of cigarettes and expensive perfume.

  She took the baby from me before pushing the sunglasses on her head. “You got vodka?”

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked immediately, letting her in.

  If my husband was dead, would they send the matriarch, or would they send a member? Like soldiers informing the family of their loss.

  “Everyone is breathing and whole,” she reassured me. “But you’ll still need the vodka.”

  I’d known Evie for a good amount of time now, so I knew to trust her if she thought I needed vodka.

  She kept Jack occupied while I poured two drinks.

  “Take a sip first,” she instructed, nodding to my glass.

  I did as she said.

  “There was a raid on the clubhouse earlier today,” she explained. “Picked up Steg, Ranger, Brock and Bull.”

  I inhaled sharply, thankful for the vodka in my hand. “For what?”

  She sipped her own drink. “Bullshit, most likely. I don’t think the ATF has anything concrete. Probably enough to justify the raid, the warrant. Keep them for a couple of nights. Beyond that, no. We have expensive lawyers on retainer for this very case.”

  I took a steadying breath. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened; the club had been the subject of these kinds of things since Ranger patched in. Nothing ever really stuck, though. The chief of police was in their pocket on the proviso that nothing related to the Sons’ business affected Amber. Hell, that was why the town respected them so much, they were protected from them.

  I had accepted this as part of the status quo, but that was before Jack. Before my son wouldn’t have his father to tuck him in because he was in prison.

  Evie narrowed her eyes as if she was reading my mind. “This is what you signed up for, honey. This is what being married to this club is.”

  I sighed. “I know. And I love the club. But—”

  “No buts,” she cut in. “You love the club. You love your Old Man. You weather this shit. We get through it. There is no other way to survive this. Don’t fight it, don’t take it out on your man, and don’t carry resentments. This is just the way shit is.” She squeezed Jack. “We’ll get through this. It’ll calm down.”

  I sipped the vodka.

  I hoped she was right.

  Two Months Later

  I was struggling to keep my breakfast down when the bikes rolled in. Jack apparently sensed my unease and was struggling in my grasp. The rest of the club, prospects, club girls and various girlfriends were gathered, waiting for the homecoming.

  Despite the expensive lawyers, the ATF had managed to hold them on pending charges. Those charges eventually fell through, but not before my husband and half of the club was behind bars for two months.

  It was the longest Ranger and I had been apart since that separation all those years ago. And definitely the longest since we’d had Jack. But Evie had been right. The club rallied.

  Laurie was over at our place often, being lost without her own true north. This had been the longest the two of them had been apart ever. She’d been lost, but had held it together. She stayed over a lot of nights, not liking to be alone in an empty house. Also because she adored Jack.

  She desperately wanted a baby, and I knew that she’d be an amazing mother. I doubted Bull was one to not give her what she wanted, so I worried for her. She never spoke of dark things, though. She was all sunshine and hope. She believed everything would work out. She always had faith that everything would happen at the right time, that everything happened for a reason.

  Evie was a constant presence too. Rosie, Lucy and Ashley were also over a lot, usually arriving with the makings of some kind of cocktail and stories of their latest dating dramas.

  Gage came around. Lucky. Asher. There was never a moment when my house felt empty. Until nighttime. When I lay in bed trying to find sleep, wondering where my husband was sleeping, if he was safe. For all I knew, he was at even more risk while locked up with rival gangs inside the prison. And there was always the uncertainty. They were surely guilty of something. Something that could put them away for years. Years of my son’s life. My life.

  I held fast to hope.

  And to fear.

  When I looked at those two lines three weeks ago, fear and dread swam in the bottom of my stomach. Just a shadow of what I’d felt after we lost our second, but enough to bring me to my knees.

  I’d lost our baby when we were happy. Safe. When everything was going well. Yet we’d still lost it. Despite what doctors had said about it not being in our control, about it being inevitable, I’d harbored the toxic thought that it was my fault. That my doubts at the beginning had caused it.

  Now, I was in the middle of not knowing when my husband would get home, not knowing if he’d even come home, yet I was going to have to be strong enough to grow a baby and take care of a toddler?

  I couldn’t.

  There was a certainty inside of me that I’d lose this one too. So I told no one. Didn’t mention a thing when I called Ranger—he wouldn’t let us visit—and told none of the women.

  What was the point in telling anyone when I was going to lose it anyway? I’d gone to the doctor’s office, heard the heartbeat, listened to her tell me that my baby was healthy. But she’d said all of that before. I didn’t want to know the sex because I didn’t want to think of it as real. Didn’t want it to become something other than what I’d lose.

  It was healthy enough to make me violently ill every morning. Lunchtime. Dinner. There was barely a respite from the nausea, and it was hell trying to hide it from constant visitors. The way Evie looked at me told me she knew, but she said nothing because she wasn’t a woman to try to make me talk about something I’d made a point to be silent about.

  When the men pulled in, I decided I wasn’t going to tell Ranger either. Not yet. I couldn’t. I just wanted to be happy that my husband was getting off his bike and damn near sprinting toward us.

  He gathered both me and Jack i
nto his arms, and my entire body relaxed with his warmth, strength and scent. He didn’t say anything, neither did I, we just held each other silently. My family was complete again.

  “I have something to tell you,” I said, my voice shaking.

  All of the promises I’d made to myself shattered with him home, with our son, in our bed. I couldn’t keep secrets from Ranger. Especially not one this big, even though it scared me as much it did.

  Ranger looked up from his book. I took in the vision of him laying in our bed, glasses on, low light illuminating every ridge of his toned body, leaving shadows on his ink. His son’s name on his heart, next to mine. His name was on my right wrist. Jack’s on my left.

  “If it’s that you’ve taken another husband in my stead, can you tell me tomorrow?” he asked, dog earing his book and placing it on his nightstand. “I have plans for you.”

  His words made my thighs clench and my nipples pushed through the thin fabric of my nightgown.

  Ranger hissed between his teeth. “Come here. Now.”

  “No, I need to tell you something first.”

  He threw the covers back and was in front of me in a blur. “Well, you can tell me from bed,” he said, lifting me into his arms and carrying me.

  When your shirtless, tattooed, muscled and horny husband carries you to bed, you tend to forget things. Very important things. Like you were planning on telling him you were pregnant.

  I was only human.

  It wasn’t until his hard-on was grinding against my panties and my shirt was gone that I remembered what I was meant to be doing. And I only remembered because of Ranger’s sharp intake of breath when his eyes went to my boobs.

  “What the fuck, babe?” he growled, kneading them, causing me to flinch ever so slightly in pain.

  He stopped immediately, far too in tune with my body for his own good. “Lizzie?” he asked, voice still.

  Yeah, what was I thinking trying to keep this from my husband? My boobs hadn’t changed a whole lot, it was still early, and Jack had done a number on them with breastfeeding. I liked to think they bounced back well, all things considering, but there was no mistaking the increased size or the fact that my nipples were much larger and tender.

  “I’m pregnant,” I whispered, fear coating my words.

  He stilled when he heard those words. “Pregnant?” he repeated in an unreadable tone.

  I nodded. “It’s still early. Thirteen weeks. I don’t want to tell anyone. Don’t want us to get our hopes up.”

  Ranger obviously wasn’t listening to this, because while one hand stayed at my breast, the other moved down to settle on my stomach. Flat but peppered with stretchmarks, the evidence of carrying our son. Marks that Ranger worshipped.

  “Baby, I spent two months with only one hope,” he murmured. “To get home. Be with my family. So all my hopes and dreams have been fulfilled no matter what.” His eyes moved to mine. “Know why you want to take it slow. I know that you don’t wanna expect anything but the worst because life’s given you the worst. Hate that there’s nothing I can do about that. But I’m here. No matter what. You aren’t alone going through this shit. But just know, I cannot wait to meet our baby girl.”

  I blinked through tears. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

  He grinned. “Just know.”

  Just under six months later, Lily Olive Derrick came into the world.

  Everyone remembers where they were when they got terrible news. News that hit them right in their core, ruining everything they knew about the world. Hoped about the world. Tearing out their insides.

  I was at the hair salon when I found out.

  It seemed like an impossibility that one could get that type of news at such a mundane place. There was a sense of safety here, with glossy magazines neatly stacked, mirrors, glam décor, the scent of hair dye and the sound of blow-dryers.

  I knew something bad had happened when Ranger walked into the salon. There was nothing that would force my macho man into the den of femininity unless it was bad. Well, that was a lie. He had when I’d forced him to drop me off a coffee.

  But with no coffee in his hand and the grim, tight expression on his face… yeah, it was bad.

  The chatter quieted with his entry. The salon was full of women I knew and had known for most of my life. Women who knew who Ranger was, knew about the club, and sensed the tension rippling off my man.

  “Babe?” I asked, pulling off the cape I was wearing.

  “We need to go,” he commanded, his voice flat. He was forcing the emotion out of it. This was bad.

  My stomach dropped. “The kids?”

  Something moved across his face as his hand reached for mine. “No, baby. The kids are fine. They are with my mom at the clubhouse. We need to get there now.”

  Something inside of me, the primal mother inside of me, relaxed. But tension still coursed through the rest of my body. My children were the most important thing in my world, but I’d also been blessed to have many other precious people in my world. Many other people who could be the reason for the look on my husband’s face.

  “You need to tell me what’s going on,” I urged, planting my feet firmly in place as if the tiled floor of the hairdresser’s was going to make the news any different. Was going to make my reaction to it any different.

  “Lizzie,” he murmured, glancing around. “You need to come with me.”

  I let him lead me out of the salon. I hadn’t paid, but no one said anything. Guessed they could read the room.

  As soon as we were outside and away from any prying ears, I stopped letting Ranger lead me. He turned, brows narrowing.

  “You need to tell me,” I demanded. “Now.”

  He frowned, his forehead creasing into deep lines. “We need to go, I’ll tell you when we get to the club.”

  Most of the time when Ranger spoke in that ‘alpha male, hear me roar’ tone, I listened. Not because I was a female who listened to a man’s every command, but because he usually only used that tone in the bedroom, and it was super-hot.

  “No,” I said, arms crossed. “I am not going to get on that bike and wonder what horrible thing awaits me. I need to know right now.” I used an alpha female tone of my own.

  Ranger took in a sharp breath, seemingly measuring my words, assessing his ability to be able to convince me otherwise. Beyond that, there wasturmoil in his eyes. This was hurting him. Killing him. Not just whatever the news was, but the fact that he knew it would hurt me. This was a man who’d spent the entire time we’ve been together trying to protect me from harm. He was battling with the knowledge that he had no power over this, and that he was going to have to deliver the news.

  His hands settled firmly on my hips, as if he thought I’d need help standing.

  “It’s Laurie, baby. And it’s bad.”

  Ranger hadn’t spoken since the funeral.

  There was a lot going on. Members from chapters all over the country had attended in a show of solidarity. In a show of force.

  I’d been with the Sons of Templar long enough to know what this meant. War.

  We’d been through several skirmishes. There were plenty of other MCs, gangs, criminals, police FBI… there were countless organizations looking to take the Sons of Templar down. We were always fighting some kind of war.

  But this was different.

  This was like a wall had been erected between us. Some time when I hadn’t been paying attention. When I’d been too busy trying to fathom that I’d lost my best friend. That she’d suffered some of the most horrific things a human can go through at the end of her life.

  She was light, love, laughter.

  Yet she’d died in an ugly, violent, brutal and bloody way.

  We’d waited at the hospital knowing it was bad. Bull had become nothing but a human shaped ghost. Everything about him was empty. Dark.

  The air was toxic with the truth.

  That there was no way Laurie would survive what had been done to her. She wouldn’t
want to survive because there was no way that any woman would be able to live with what had been done to her.

  I’d prepared myself for her death. Sitting in the hospital waiting room with Ranger beside me, his hand in mine, I’d gone through the motions. Thought I had, at least.

  But when we got the news, I broke. Completely. Ranger took me home. He put me to bed, held me close. I didn’t feel the change in him then because in that moment, I only felt pain.

  Then I became distracted. I forced myself to be distracted with funeral arrangements and with helping Evie with the logistics of having multiple chapters arriving in Amber to show support.

  Ranger was around. Of course he was. He was there to check on me. The kids. To make sure someone was with us at all times.

  Old Ladies had always been off limits, even to the most ruthless of criminals.

  Until Laurie.

  I was clutched with fear, thinking about how ugly this war could get, how it would only get uglier now.

  I thought what I felt was grief. And fear that something would happen to me or the kids. I was too deep in my own head to realize it was something else. Something much worse. Something that might completely end us.

  Chapter 7

  “You can’t go again,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Ranger didn’t even look me in the eye. He hadn’t in weeks. Not since the funeral. My best friend’s funeral.

  It still didn’t seem real. But she was buried. She was gone.

  Things had been getting ugly since then.

  Since she’d died because of the club, we were at war. Jack, Lily and I were never alone, and there would be a lockdown soon. The club was gearing up for vengeance. The whole town felt it. The air was quiet, like one big exhale. The calm before a storm.

  Yet things were everything but calm in our house.