Templar's in London: A Syndicate in Need

Chapter 7: The Girl and her Mobsmen

A/N: Hey babes! Hope your holidays were great and this new year has been good to you. This chapter is a bit...lengthy. Sorry. I really try to consolidate but the writer writes what the writer writes. This time we're taking a break from the reader and spending some quality time with the twins. Hope you enjoy it!

Warning!  Use of what used to be deemed as offensive terms to the LGBTQ+ community.

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Evie has known for years of the high population in London. Was reminded of it countless times by her father, if not by him then by news outlets or stories told by others.

"The churning streets of London." He'd say to them as children, going into great detail about the architecture, people, history, and even the smells. She remembers being fascinated by these stories. Remembers dreaming of those same people and smells of the city – captivated by the idea of strolling through London herself one day.

Now... Now she would settle with blowing it sky high.

"Watch where you're going, you fucking twat!" She yells while honking at the car in front of her. They had just cut her off, right when she pressed the gas to pass them, and she had to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision.

Jacob, who sits seemingly unfazed in the passenger seat, fiddles with the hem of his leather glove, looking over at his sister with a quirked eyebrow.

"You have terrible road rage, sista." He jests.

"It isn't my fault! These people can't drive and there's too fucking many of them," She says defensively while swerving lanes to get in between two cars. The one she cuts off honks at her this time and she honks back, rolling down the window even though it's raining. She sticks her hand out the window and flips them off, "Up yours!"

Jacob chuckles again, "Yeah. It's totally them."

"Oh, like you'd be any betta." She scoffs as she rolls the window back up, shaking her arm roughly to rid her leather jacket of the droplets.

"Touche," He agrees while moving his gaze out his window, staining his hot breath on the cool surface, "Who's this twerp we're going to meet, anyway?"

"Clara O'Dea," She says, "Did you not listen the first three times?"

"Listen to what?" He grins, "You and Greenie getting all hot and bothered over whom we might solicit next? I'd rather not."

"We do not," She says, her fists tightening around the wheel to control her tone, "Just because our goals align does not mean–"

"Oh, please," He waves his hand at her dismissively, "Preach it to someone who'll believe you, because, despite what you think," He pauses, leaning toward her and lowering his voice as if he were telling a secret, "You can't lie to me." Evie says nothing in response, only making a tight tsk sound with her mouth before grinding her teeth.

Jacob is wrong. Infuriatingly wrong. It's one of their father's most important rules that forbade such things and this mission is too important for Jacob to be right about something so trivial. Besides, they just met Mister Green. There's no way she would even allow herself to grow attached to someone so quickly. She's too strong-willed, too smart, and too focused. Especially to fall for someone like him. Someone so much older...and mature. Also sophisticated, clever, resourceful, and passionate.

And handsome.

She blinks.

No, no. Not handsome. Umm... resourceful. Shit. I already said that.