Battles of the Broken (The Sons of Templar MC Book 6)

by Anne Malcom

  I nodded the small amount I could.

  He gestured to the warehouse with his chin. “What’s in there is me asking you to stand beside me while I battle. For the both of us.”

  “Okay,” I said immediately.

  He jerked slightly, as if surprised. “You don’t even know what’s in there.”

  “I don’t need to,” I told him honestly, fear curling in my stomach like a snake. Fear that would’ve stopped me before but now only fueled me. “I know what’s here.” I tapped my finger above his chest. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Fuck, I love you,” he growled, then brought his mouth brutally down on mine, unyielding in his ferocity.

  It was hard to breathe afterward, let alone walk unaided, so I let him drag me into the warehouse. It was only when I saw what—actually who was inside that I regained all of my faculties very quickly. And I tried to snatch my hand from Gage’s.

  He obviously didn’t let me do it, his hand tightening around mine to the point that I thought it’d bruise if I continued my struggle.

  So I stopped.

  Took a deep breath.

  Stared at the man in front of me.

  The man tied to a chair in front of me,

  The man who’d sold my brother the drugs that killed him.

  “That’s why you weren’t worried about retaliation,” I murmured, eyes on the man. “Because you had him here.”

  His clothes were filthy, ripped. I didn’t know if that was a result of his kidnapping or part of the uniform drug dealers wore. Because he didn’t look like he had been beaten at all.

  There wasn’t even a speck of blood on the man. Nor an injury.

  It was strange.

  And it was strange that that’s what I considered out of place. Not the drug dealer my boyfriend had kidnapped and tied up in the warehouse he reserved for making bombs. No, the fact that he hadn’t killed him, or at least tortured him.

  How I could’ve changed so much in such a short amount of time should’ve scared me. But maybe I wasn’t changing. Maybe I’d always been that way, stifled underneath everything I thought I should’ve been.

  His eyes were alert, panicked, but he didn’t struggle. He wasn’t gagged, but he didn’t speak. Sweat drenched his clothes, and the putrid scent of vomit and human filth assaulted me now that my initial shock was taken care of.

  “He’s going through withdrawal,” Gage said, his voice blunt and flat.

  I jerked my head to Gage, who wasn’t looking at the man in front of us but at me.

  “Smart dealers don’t get addicted to their product. Eats into the profit.” He nodded to the man. “Not a smart dealer.”

  I looked back at the man I’d built up in my mind as this villain. As a monster. But he was just a man. And not even much of one. Drugs had whittled the flesh from his bones, the soul from his eyes.

  How had I not seen it with David? This hopeless, hollowed-out look?

  Because David was the best at everything.

  That included being a drug addict.

  Or more accurately, hiding that he was a drug addict.

  “You haven’t touched him,” I said, my statement somewhat of a question.

  “Couldn’t,” Gage grunted. “Intended on taking care of him the second I realized your intentions that night. And I know what I said about fightin’ battles, but you’ll agree that I wasn’t exactly seein’ straight at the start of things.”

  I raised my brow in response.

  He met my look. “Yeah, well I was gonna. But I couldn’t. Didn’t trust myself to. I wasn’t in Hope that night for club business.”

  All teasing expression left my face.

  Gage’s eyes roved over me. “Don’t know what would’ve happened had you not been there. Could lie to the both of us and say nothin’, but I don’t lie to myself anymore. And I’m not gonna lie to you. So I didn’t trust myself to do shit to him after that night. Then it didn’t seem like you were pushin’ it. And you distracted me, babe. You distracted me from both the desire for a kill and the desire for a fix.” He paused. “No, you fuckin’ saved me.”

  He glanced to the man, as if he were part of the chair rather than a living, breathing human being who was listening to us. Though his eyes were faraway and it didn’t seem he was listening to anything but the screams inside his head.

  My eyes went back to Gage because it was too hard to look at that man, to see what my brother might’ve been on the inside.

  “And that night, the night after you saved me from one of many arrests on a long rap sheet, saved me from my own demons, I decided it was about time to save you. Or myself. Regardless, that’s how he ended up here.”

  “Are you going to kill him?” I whispered.

  His eyes were unyielding. “That’s up to you.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded once. “This isn’t just my battle. Not just my decision. Not my fuckin’ life anymore. And this is your dragon, though he doesn’t look so big and mean up close. He’s pathetic, in fact. You go either way. I’ll let him go, or we bury him.” He shrugged as if he were asking if I wanted Chinese or pizza for dinner. “I’m good with both.”

  I let out a hysterical giggle.

  Gage didn’t look at me strangely for such a weird reaction. There was no such thing as a weird reaction with Gage.

  He just waited.

  And then I stopped laughing.

  Because it was real.

  The man who’d killed my brother—or at the very least was some sort of accessory—was sitting there, immobile, at my mercy.

  A very small and dark part of me itched to snatch Gage’s knife and plunge it into the man’s heart. But looking at him, at how utterly pathetic he seemed, I knew it wouldn’t be doing much. Or anything at all. He didn’t even much look like a human anymore.

  I forced myself to pull out of Gage’s arms, and he let me with a hard jaw because I knew that’s what I needed. To confront my dragon.

  My palms were damp as I came to a stop in front of him.

  The stench was closer. There was vomit and human excrement surrounding him. I held my breath.

  “Are you sorry?” I choked. “For what you do to people? Are you sorry?”

  He blinked at me as I spoke, eyes clearing slightly, his face covered with a grimy layer of sweat.

  He smacked his lips, a wet and grotesque sound. “Please.”

  At first I thought he was begging for his life, and a small flower of pity bloomed within me. Maybe I couldn’t save David, but I could save the man who’d damned him. David would’ve liked that.

  But then the man spoke again.

  “Please, just a bump. Just a bit. I’ll die without it.”

  I jerked back like he’d hit me. The flower of pity withered inside me.

  Because this man was tied up, forced to be sober but he was begging for a fix instead. And sure, it was an illness, but the cure wasn’t anywhere but inside. Gage had literally cut the flesh from his body to get clean. He battled every day. Every single day. I saw it now. I knew it.

  And for the rest of his life, it would be a battle. He’d fought through the worst of it, but there was no end to the fight.

  This creature in front of me wasn’t ever going to win that battle, let alone fight it.

  I angrily brushed a tear from my cheek and turned my back, walking toward Gage’s steady gaze.

  He didn’t pull me into his arms. He knew better. He just watched me. Waited.

  “Put him out of his misery,” I said, my voice clear.

  And then I turned and walked out, too much of a coward to watch it being done, or do it myself.

  Gage met me outside a few moments later, pulling my back into his front.

  He kissed my neck.

  “That was quick,” I whispered.

  “Takes considerably less time to end a life than it does to bring one into the world,” he murmured.

  I choked out a dark laugh.

  He squeezed me.

  “I’
m sorry for making you do it,” I whispered. “For not being strong enough to do it myself.”

  He yanked me around so his hands were either side of my neck, eyes on mine. “You never fuckin’ apologize for that shit,” he growled. “Took great pleasure in endin’ his life. You know that’s part of my cure, baby. Death. You know it and don’t judge it. You’re still standin’ right here.” He pressed his mouth to mine. “Fact that you’re standing makes you the strongest person walking this earth. Don’t you ever let me hear you say different.”

  So there was that, among other things.

  Like Gage convincing me to paint full-time.

  Which happened to be what we were discussing, almost arguing about, as I hurriedly buttoned my blouse, late for meeting Amy. We were going to watch Mia and Gwen’s boys play a soccer game. Something everyone from the club usually attended—the two big burly bikers named Bull and Cade usually front and center—but there was some kind of ‘club business.’ I was learning quickly that that served as a blanket explanation which most of the women didn’t get much of an elaboration on. Not because the men didn’t trust them, but because they were protective. And because it was the club’s code.

  But Gage and I were different. So he wasn’t about trying to protect me from such things. “We’re working on bringing down a human trafficker Rosie fucked with a few years back,” he said. “And I hope to fuck it’s me who gets to bring him down when we do.”

  I bit my lip. “Yes, me too. Only if you’ll be safe.”

  He grinned. “Yes, baby, when I’m murdering one of the most dangerous men in the underworld, I’ll do it safely.”

  I grinned back. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Obviously Gage was protective over me. That was apparent when Troy approached us in the grocery store, of all places.

  Gage stood in front of me. “Unless you want a broken nose to mess up that pretty face, I’d keep walkin’, Officer.”

  Troy folded his arms. “Your old lady won’t be able to get you off twice,” he hissed.

  Gage grinned. “Oh, she gets me off a fuck of a lot more than twice.”

  “Gage,” I hissed, heat creeping up my cheek.

  He looked over his shoulder. “What? I’m just proud of your skills, baby.”

  I groaned.

  “I’m not here to cause shit. Or to disrespect Lauren,” Troy clipped.

  Gage stepped forward. “I respect her plenty,” he said evenly.

  I gripped Gage’s bicep, pulling him back. My bare palm flattened over his scarred skin. I could do that now. He barely even flinched with the touch and let himself be pulled.

  “Then what is it you’re here for, Troy?” I asked coldly. I hadn’t entirely forgiven him for the whole debacle, but I still liked him. He was a good man who didn’t understand what was outside black and white. Hence me holding on to Gage to make sure he didn’t hit him again.

  “Dealer you did the story on seems to be missing. We had enough for an arrest, went to his place,” he said. “No one there. No one’s seen him.”

  My stomach dropped slightly, but my expression didn’t change. “Even drug dealers are allowed vacations, Troy.”

  He squinted at me as if he were inspecting the words. “Yeah, they don’t normally take them though. Unless their vacations take them south. Way south.” He looked to his boots, meaning clear.

  “And why are you informing us of this in the frozen pea section?” I asked as Gage stayed silent.

  “Curious if you knew anything, since it’s a big coincidence that not long after you do a story exposing him, he disappears.”

  “I disagree. It’s actually extremely logical for a man to leave town after he’s exposed in illegal activities.”

  “Drug dealers are rarely logical.”

  “And I’m rarely fuckin’ patient,” Gage interrupted. “So I’m done with this, unless you want to take it outside? Leaving your badge and your pussy in here, of course? Yeah, didn’t think so. Next time you get curious, you take me down to the station. Not Lauren. And you better have a lot of shit to back up that curiosity. Police officers who fuck with me frequent the south on their vacations too.”

  And that was that.

  We hadn’t seen Troy since.

  “I don’t fuckin’ get why you’re not makin’ a living out of it,” Gage said, watching me rush around the house. “You’re good at shit at the paper. Know that. I read everything you write. But this.” He gestured to the easel in the living room, facing the ocean—a big development for me to take it out of the place where I’d shoved it away like a skeleton—a painting half-done.

  Not of the ocean.

  Of Gage.

  “That’s more than fucking good, Will,” he continued. “That’s fuckin’ magic. That’s shit the world needs to see to make them believe in someone who makes pain somethin’ more than what it is. You need to share it because you need to see how fuckin’ magnificent you are.”

  I folded my arms against the warmth of the beautiful words. “You’re just saying that because it’s you,” I tried for sarcasm.

  It didn’t work.

  He narrowed his eyes, not speaking, coaxing more out of me as he always did.

  “I’m just not ready,” I whispered. “You seeing those paintings, me telling you about that six months of my life that I’ve always been ashamed of.”

  He clutched my hips. “Insanity isn’t something to be ashamed of, babe,” he hissed. “It’s a natural reaction to this fucked-up world. It’s showin’ there’s no such thing as sane.” He stroked my cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

  I smiled, my eyes tracing his arms. “I agree,” I murmured, then admitted “Maybe I just need a little more time to convince myself of that.”

  Gage’s jaw was hard, but he nodded once. “We’ve got time, babe,” he agreed. Then he threw me over his shoulder and I screamed. The swat on my ass silenced me. “But I need a little more time convincin’ you of how beautiful I find you.”

  We were late to the soccer game.

  Really freaking late.

  I finally arrived at the front of the park, where Amy was waiting, still disheveled.

  “You’re late. But then again, so am I. Likely for the same reason.” Amy smirked knowingly as she handed me a cup of iced tea, not looking at all disheveled.

  It was getting hotter now, hot enough for less clothing. Hot enough for Gage to wear short sleeves. Now his scars were part of him, not something that stuck out like they did at the start. Their ugliness was a reason he was so beautiful. But not everyone was like that, so people stared when we went out.

  Because people loved being spectators to pain. Especially when they could trick themselves into thinking they weren’t participants. Even now, as he idled his bike at the entrance to the park, parents and their children focused on the skin of his arms, staring, whispering, averting their gaze.

  It angered me at the start.

  It didn’t as much now.

  Because they were the ones who were missing out, living that narrow life of thinking that ugliness was bad and uniformity was beautiful.

  “Will!” Gage’s voice carried over the stares and the whispers.

  I turned from Amy.

  “Love you.”

  I gaped at him. He was free with his feelings. As free as he could be, at least, but shouting, “I love you” in a park full of people wasn’t exactly what I’d expected from Gage.

  Which was why he did it.

  And why it warmed me better than the April sun.

  “I love you too,” I shouted back.

  He grinned and roared off.

  Amy linked my arm in hers. “That just made coming to watch such a stupid sport totally worth it,” she said, sipping from her cup and deftly dodging children while in heels.

  I merely smiled and sipped my tea.

  “I can’t believe you’ve exchanged ‘I love yous’ before either one of you has been rescued from a kidnapping attempt.” She paused. “Though I guess we could
factor in you storming into the station and blackmailing an officer as a kidnapping rescue.”

  I laughed. “Why is everyone waiting for a kidnapping?”

  Her eyes emptied of their usual lightness. “Because we’ve got something special here with these men. And they’ve obviously got something special with us. And this is a kind of a special that comes with a price. You and Gage are the most special of them all, because you’re two people the world almost stopped from getting such things.”

  I’d told her about David on one of our many walks, and about the six months after. She’d squeezed my arm, softened her green eyes and gazed at me without an ounce of judgment. Like right now.

  “That’s why everyone’s waiting for that price. Terrified for it,” she whispered.

  I blinked at her. At the naked fear in her tone.

  Before I could reassure her, an accented voice floated our way.

  “Over here!”

  Gwen was waving from a spot a few feet away and the moment was broken, Amy winking at me and continuing to drag me along.

  “Gage yelled, ‘I love you,’ in the middle of the park and it was amazing and they should’ve sold snacks,” she told the group at large.

  The group being Mia, Gwen, Lily and Kingston’s ‘grandma’, Evie. Though it had to be said the woman was the furthest from a grandmother one could get. And that was saying something, consider my own. Sure, she looked to be of the right age, kind of. The lines on her face were deep and betrayed a hard life, everything about her was hard.

  But somehow, soft enough to make her ageless. But scary. She was wearing head-to-toe black, a sheer lace shirt with a black cami underneath, tight black jeans, and spike heeled ankle boots that were too edgy even for me.

  I’d seen her at the club party, hovering around the older man I knew to be Steg, the former president. Former, not just because his salt and pepper hair was mostly salt now, because he’d been shot in the chest the same day Gwen had delivered her baby in their clubhouse.

  Still, he was like his wife, somehow ageless, brutal, unwilling to bow down to the frailness of old age.

  The corner of her mouth turned up with Amy’s words, and I guessed from her, that worked as approval.