Free Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC) by Anne Malcom Page A

hasn’t been good.”
    Rosie cocked her hip. “Newsflash, honey: life is rarely good. In fact, most of the time it fuckin’ blows. But it’s usually the people who have the best upbringings turning out to being the most depraved of them all. A bad life doesn’t create a bad person, and usually the opposite is true. Lucky is a good fucking case study, as are most of the men in the club. Most of them came from the stuff of nightmares. They’ll never be good in the conventional sense, but I’d put my life in their hands in an instant.” She eyed me. “I don’t know you, but I know you’re not bad. I’ve seen that too, and you’re not it.”
    I was going to argue with her further but there was an abrupt end to the banging, followed by sounds of a struggle.
    Rosie’s eyes lit up. “Boys are here.” Her grin faltered. “I wish we had popcorn for this.”
    Okay, this chick was insane.
    I crossed the living room to open the door. Lucky had his gun out, as did Asher, pointing them at Tyson and Artie. Both of them were backing away with their hands up. Artie had a bleeding nose.
    Lucky turned. “Oh hey, Becky. How’s life? You don’t have to go to such lengths to get me over, you know. Just a phone call or a text would suffice. But it was turning into a boring Saturday night and my trigger finger was getting rusty,” he said conversationally, like he wasn’t pointing a gun at two retreating assholes.
    He held up his free hand. “One second.” He turned his head back. “You assholes come within one fucking mile of Becky again and I’ll come and scalp you while you’re sleeping.” The change in his tone was chilling, and, because I was fucking deranged, fucking hot.
    Tyson sneered. “You’re not gonna be around forever. We’ll get her where she belongs,” he spat.
    I watched the side of Lucky’s jaw harden. He stepped forward, his gun level. “You’re not gonna be around forever, and I’m fuckin’ tempted to make your forever end now but I’m not too keen on spending date night cleaning up your brains. So how about you go back to the gutter where you belong and I’ll make sure Becky remains where she belongs, with me,” he growled.
    There was a pregnant pause before both men edged to the stairs and retreated into the shadows.
    Both Asher and Lucky waited a beat before lowering their guns. Lucky turned to me and I folded my arms. “Date night?” I repeated.
    He grinned and I felt that expression to my toes. “Yeah, well, we’re not exactly the conventional couple. What’s a date night without guns and death threats?”
    I narrowed my eyes at him. “We’re not a couple. Period.”
    He shook his head and stepped out of the shadows, chuckling. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, firefly.” He patted my head.
    I scowled at him. “I don’t need to keep telling myself the truth,” I shot back.
    “Kids, can we bring the bickering inside? You’re letting in the chill,” Rosie called from inside. “Lucky, I’ve got beer for you if you don’t tell my brother I’m giving Jagger somewhere to stay tonight.”
    Lucky grinned and tucked me into his shoulder, directing us back into the apartment. “I can’t be bought with beer. I’m more loyal to my prez,” he said as we stepped inside.
    Rosie grinned between us and held up the box. “I’ve got Pop-Tarts.”
    “S’mores flavor?’
    She nodded.
    “I didn’t see or hear a thing,” Lucky said.
    Asher shook his head, then focused on me. His gaze was shrewd as he took me in and his eyes hardened. “Where’s Lily?”
    I yanked out of Lucky’s grip. Not because it was uncomfortable; it was too fucking comfortable. His pleasing smell of leather and tobacco made my eyes go lazy. But I’d been puking all day and my hair was unwashed. That smell would make his eyes water.
    “At work,” I replied, crossing my hands over my chest. I was more than aware I was only wearing an oversized tee, no bra. Granted, the tee almost reached my knees and