Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) (21 page)

Both of us turned our gazes to Asher and Lucky, who were standing in the doorway with blank expressions, bodies taut. Their muscled arms were both extended, each aiming a gun at Dylan’s head.

Asher’s gaze flickered over me, stopping at my eyes and then his fury turned palpable.

“Come here, flower,” he ordered tightly. “Behind me.”

I considered it. The safety he represented. My eyes flickered to my best friend curled in the corner. For a moment my mind showed me the image of my mom in a similar position all those years ago. I made a split second decision. Not lowering my gun, I skirted around Dylan to rush to Bex’s side, crouching down so I could gather her in my arms.

“Are you okay?” I whispered urgently.

She groaned and pushed herself up from the wall slightly. “Yeah, fucker hits like a girl,” she replied shakily.

“This bitch a whore for the Sons now?” Dylan asked conversationally, jerking his head at Bex and I. “You’ve got no power here. This one’s mine, you’re both as likely to shoot me as the little mouse over here,” he gloated, obviously not clocking the fact that he had three guns pointed at him and two very murderous stares directed his way.

A gunshot made me jump and cover Bex protectively with my body. I gaped at Lucky as Dylan sunk to his knees in pain, clutching a bloody shoulder. Asher stared at him too, expressionless.

Lucky shrugged at the attention on him. “My finger slipped,” he explained nonchalantly, though fury danced in his eyes.

“You’ll pay for that,” Dylan bit out in fury. “You don’t fuckin’ shoot me without—”

He was cut off as Asher stepped forward and cold cocked him with his gun, his body crumpling to the ground. Asher stared at the unconscious body in disgust for a split second before his eyes cut to me. Lucky was already kneeling at my side, his face gentle and focused on Bex.

“You need the hospital, sweet thing?” he asked softly, though his jaw was hard.

I moved my eyes from Asher to Bex, wincing at the red mark already forming on her cheek, the marks at her neck. She flinched slightly as she pulled away from me slightly to try and get up.

“No, I’m fine. A couple of bruises,” she rasped, her voice raw.

I tried to stop her from getting up, but Lucky beat me to it. His muscled and tattooed arms gathered her gently to lift her. He stepped over Dylan’s body as if it were a downed dog and set her on the sofa. I watched in amazement as he ran his hands over her body, talking softly, his eyes hard.

Involuntarily, my mind hurtled back to the times I’d sit beside my mom’s bed, my little hands gently trying to bandage cuts with Mickey Mouse Band-Aids, trying to hold in my tears as Mom smiled and told me stories. I didn’t even realize I was still pressed against the wall, clutching the gun until Asher gently removed it from my hands, his eyes glued to my head.

“Flower, I need you to look at me,” he ordered flatly, in a voice devoid of emotion.

I struggled to push off the floor. “Bex,” I protested loudly, needing to make sure she was okay.

Hands at my shoulders stopped me. “Lucky’s got her,” Asher told me firmly. “Right now, I need to make sure I don’t put another bullet hole in our friend over there.” He nodded his head to the body currently staining our carpet with blood. “The only way that’s going to happen is if I’m certain my little flower is going to be okay,” he clipped, lightly pressing on my head with a bandana from his pocket.

I winced as the pressure radiated pain through my skull.

Asher’s jaw turned granite. “Are you feeling any dizziness? Nausea?” he asked softly.

“No,” I replied distractedly. “Lucky, you just shot someone,” I said to the biker’s back.

“Sure did, squirt,” he replied breezily, frowning at Bex, who was now sitting up, glaring at the place where Asher was wiping.

“Give me your gun,” she commanded him, holding out a shaky hand. “I’ll kill that mother fucker myself for totally ruining my ability to wear a tank top for the next month and for hurting my best friend,” she hissed with venom. Though she wasn’t convincing considering her face was pale and slightly tight with obvious pain.

Lucky, for once, didn’t smile at her. “Killing someone requires effort. You need to rest. Let us unbattered men do the killing,” he demanded.

I gaped at him. “Killing?” I repeated. “You’re joking, right?”

Lucky glanced at me, and for once, his face held no hint of humor.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Killing is against the law,” I informed the room at large. I didn’t think that was something people would need educating on, obviously, these people, my boyfriend, best friend and Lucky needed reminding.

“So is shooting someone,” Lucky pointed out. “That ship’s already sailed. Go big or go home I say.”

“Yeah, but that was self-defense,” I replied, although I didn’t know how that was really going to hold up considering Lucky wasn’t actually in need of defending.

“No, that was me teaching someone the beginning of a very long lesson,” Lucky informed me, in a tone that was unfamiliar and brutal.

Asher’s gentle touch contrasted the brutality, yet his eyes glittered with fury, something about the way he held himself had me thinking his thoughts lined up with Lucky’s.

“Let’s get you up, flower,” he said quietly, arms hooking under mine to place me on unsteady feet. His hand moved to frame my head as he squinted at the source of the stinging pain.

“I don’t think you’re gonna need stitches, but I’m getting our doc here. He needs to look at Bex anyway,” he told me, glancing over at her.

I followed his eyes with concern. Bex met mine and she winked.
Winked.
Had I tumbled down the rabbit hole?

“You have a doc?” I asked in disbelief.

Asher nodded.

“One that has experience patching up bullet holes?” I continued.

Asher looked at me. “Yeah, flower. Not that he’s going to be patching up any bullet holes tonight.”

I gaped at him once more. “Um … hello?” I waved at him, then pointed at Dylan, who was steadily leaking more blood, it didn’t look life threatening from here, but three years of nursing school weren’t for nothing. He needed a doctor.

Asher’s hard gaze followed me. “A man who did that to you, to Bex, isn’t getting any medical help from me. He’ll be lucky to leave with his life.”

I stared at him for a long moment. The man who’d treated me with unbelievable tenderness was showing me what wearing that cut meant. I looked at Bex, brutalized like my mother. I looked back at the body that had caused it.

I pushed past Asher, only being successful because he wasn’t expecting it.

I knelt beside Dylan, using all my effort to push his body face up to examine his wound. I may not have finished my nursing degree, but I knew how to stop someone from dying from a bullet wound. I hoped.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Asher asked urgently at my side, trying to pull me away from Dylan.

I moved my gaze away from the wound in his shoulder to glare at Asher for a split second.

“I’m making sure he doesn’t die,” I replied icily.

Asher stared at me. “It’s a flesh wound, he’ll be up and abusing more women in no time,” he stated sarcastically.

“Unless you do the
‘right thing’
and put a bullet in his skull?” I asked with fake sweetness.

“That’s my vote,” Lucky put in from the sofa.

“I’d be partial to the bullet in the skull option, too,” Bex added in, blowing my proverbial socks off. I knew Bex came from a rough background, but I didn’t think condoning murder would be something she’d be doing.

I ignored them, putting pressure on the wound with the pashmina from our sofa.

“Dude, that’s my favorite pashmina, it’ll be ruined now,” Bex whined.

I ignored that too, putting my fingers to his wrist to take his pulse.

“Lily, I don’t want you here, near him, touching him,” Asher clipped.

“Well, sweetheart, we don’t always get what we want, it’s character building,” I replied, mentally thinking about what else I could do at this moment.

Lucky’s laugh pierced through the tension of the current moment.

“Shit, brother, you gotta watch the quiet ones,” he joked.

Asher didn’t smile.

“I’m not letting him die. And you’re not killing him,” I ordered.

Asher continued to stare at me.

I didn’t think I’d have to have an argument with my boyfriend over someone’s life.

“He hit you and Bex,” he clipped.

“I’m aware,” I said sharply. “But it’s not up to us to decide those actions require his life to be ended,” I continued coldly. “He’ll have what he did on his soul, you don’t need it on yours.”

Asher gave me a long searching look, and it seemed demons danced beyond his eyes before he sighed.

My entire body relaxed.

“You know where he lives?” he asked Bex.

She nodded. “South side of town, near Aimless,” she replied, talking about an infamous bar which had regular shootings. One I steered well clear of. One Bex visited many times in the past, where she met Dylan incidentally.

Lucky and Asher both cursed simultaneously.

“What?” I asked, recognizing something change in their demeanor.

“Nothing,” Asher replied quickly, too quickly. “We’ll get him out of here, educate him on the fact he’ll never be coming near either of you again. He does, I’ll kill him myself,” he promised with a hard glint in his eyes.

We stared at each other, me swallowing the bitter taste that he was serious. That he’d end his life. That he was prepared to. That violence was a way of life for Asher. That death was. It came with the cut. With the club.

“I’d like to order a pizza delivery,” Lucky’s voice shattered the moment as he spoke into his phone. “Yeah, I’ve got a big old hankering for pepperoni, one that’s gonna need a van to deliver,” he continued strangely. “Yeah, at Lily’s place. See you in twenty.” He hung up and glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders at the obvious confusion in my gaze. “Couldn’t exactly say I’d clipped some gangbanger, and needed a body dump. Phones might be tapped,” he said casually. “We do not want our friends at the ATF coming to this party.”

Once more, I found myself hurtled into the reality of being involved with Asher. The reality of phone tappings, speaking in code, and ATF.

“Keep the pressure on this,” I ordered Asher, nodding to the pashmina.

He gave me a long look before doing as I asked.

This got another laugh from Lucky, who I swear muttered, “whipped,” under his breath.

I ignored this, my attention going to Bex, who was sitting rigidly on the sofa. My fingers gently touched the marks on her neck, my eyes examining the purplish tint on her cheekbone.

“Becky,” I whispered brokenly.

“I’m okay, Lilmeister, promise,” she reassured me in a strong voice.

“You’re far from okay,” I protested. I slowly lifted her shirt to reveal a bruise blossoming over half of her stomach. Lucky let out a hiss, his smile gone.

“I’ve changed my mind. Fucker is going to the ground,” he growled, standing and yanking the gun from his pants.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Bex beat me to it.

“Stop. Lils was right. You can’t murder him,” she argued. I sagged with relief. “I don’t want any more blood ruining the carpet,” she deadpanned.

Lucky gave her a long stare but put his gun away.

“I never get to have any fun,” he muttered.

I ignored this disturbing comment, focusing on making sure Bex didn’t have any internal bleeding.

“I think you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs,” I surmised.

Bex raised her eyebrow. “A couple? I’d say all of them,” she bit out. “Which means I won’t be able to work unless I want to do private stuff for fucked up men who enjoy battered woman,” she said with a scowl.

Lucky stepped forward with a stormy face. “That’ll happen in no universe,” he declared firmly.

She scowled at him. “It’ll happen in the universe where I have to pay rent and feed myself, which happens to be this one,” she shot back.