Page 122 of Hostile Saint

It seems fate felt we needed to fast-track and had the men smashing together, both with major dilemmas, both oddly connected.

Three deeply involved chapters put all the other Stallions on standby.

While Charlie slept at my side in the dark, Lynx in his own bed, I stared at the ceiling, acknowledging certainties about myself and Lacey. She and I did not know we could run from our situation, but we had the passion to stay together while we endured it.

My father, for reasons unknown, had been placed in a reform school in South Carolina, a state where faith-based reform schools were exempt from state oversight. The other state that also had no license requirements for religious boarding schools was Missouri, where Lacey and I had been taken.

It was unclear how long each of my parents was in the facility, and how they became so attached to Lacey’s mom, but it was evident that their connection led me to what I had become and what I was growing into, a Life Warrior.

Glancing at Lynx’s knuckles, I saw fresh wounds atop of older scars. Was this the way of my future, or were those scars a metaphor for my future? Would I have one battle after another? Like Lynx, would I become that man who would always be swinging his fists, refusing to give up? These one-percenters may have had cruel ways of dealing with those who wrong them, but at least they weren’t seeking out the weak—terrorizing them simply for the pleasure of it or using innocence to gain unattainable power.

If there is a devil, he will only lend you his power to use you at his will.

That’s a fact.

Still staring at Lynx’s scarred knuckles, I realized he wasn’t causing that man—the rat— pain just to gain power. He was now a snake that had struck. Don’t tread on me.

Lynx didn’t go searching for trouble.

It found him.

Now, he was preparing to snuff it the fuck out.

These men—these bikers—were able to handle me because they were just like the man who brought me into this volatile world. They were damaged, yet disciplined. They were fearful, yet brave. They were wise, yet willing to learn. They were bold, yet humble.

In them, I saw fighters and lovers.

Teachers and students.

Fathers… and sons.

Daughters and mothers.

Humans, willing to make mistakes, and keep trying again.

Lying there in the dark, I decided these bikers were full of the qualities I wanted to possess. Not only did I want to make my father and Lynx proud, and honor the Stallion who had died, but I wanted to be my best for Lacey. I would do anything for Lacey—Ah, shit!

Charlie perked his head up as I sat up. “Lynx.”

He was suddenly on his feet. A gun pointed at the door. “Yeah?”

Staring at the huge Stallion ink tattooed on his back, I uttered, “Damn, you’re fast.”

His shoulders eased and his arms came down.

Turning, he plopped back down on the bed, sprawled out on his back, and returned his gun to the nightstand. “Please, tell me you have a good reason for waking me, Pup. I’m fucking beat. No joke.”

I clicked on the lamp on the nightstand between us. “I would do anything for Lacey.”

He rolled away. “This is something I already know, Pup.”

“Wouldn’t a good mother?”

Lynx’s body jerked.

“Lynx, that’s how they controlled her—Lacey’s mother.”

He rolled to face me again.