Firestorm (The Sons of Templar MC Book 2)

by Anne Malcom

  Garrett smirked. “Spot on, Slugger. Your father, despite being a fucking twat, is a shrewd businessman. In addition to making a fuck ton of money he also gained influence.”

  “So that’s what Clark wanted—Dad to blackmail some city official?” I interrupted. It was the logical conclusion, but I didn’t think something that simple would result in me getting involved.

  “In part,” Garrett replied slowly, his face hard. “Clark was more interested in the Silversdale deal.”

  I sat up straight, shrugging Brock’s arm from around my shoulders. “You mean the deal I closed?” I asked quietly. I ignored the hand at my back and the eyes I could feel on me. I focused on my uncle who nodded, mouth set in a grim line.

  “That deal not only had your father’s company importing milk products from around the world, it also gave him significant control over the docks. And since he had control over not only what came in but also the people that let it in, he was of particular interest to Clark Devon,” he explained.

  I was silent for a moment. “I’m guessing Clark wanted to smuggle something into the country and didn’t want to declare it to customs,” I said dryly. “What exactly was he trying to get in? Elephant tusks? Fake designer bags? Freaking illegal immigrants?” I rattled off sarcastically. In truth I knew the probable substance that would warrant all of this shit and account for Clark’s wealth.

  “Drugs,” Garrett answered, proving me right, his eyes flaring in distaste. “Clark Devon is a major player in the heroin and cocaine game and had been trying to get access to a deal like the Silversdale one for over a year. When your father’s company closed the deal it was a prime opportunity for him.”

  I got up quickly, ignoring the glare I got from Gwen. “So you’re telling me that the deal I fucking facilitated was what got my father involved with Devon in the first place?” I said, my voice bordering on shrill as I paced the room.

  Garrett’s face turned soft. “Slugger...”

  I didn’t let him finish. “My mother was right, it is my fault I got kidnapped.” I laughed without humor. “By trying to prove to both her and my fucking father I was good enough for them I shot myself in the goddamn leg,” I paused. “Or more aptly I stabbed myself in the leg,” I laughed coldly again.

  As I was in the midst of working myself into hysteria I hadn’t noticed Brock get up off the sofa, but strong hands at my shoulders which stopped my pacing got my attention. He pulled me close to face him, his hand going to my neck, eyes intense on mine.

  “Don’t you dare fucking say that,” he ordered roughly. “Don’t you ever blame yourself for one minute of this fucking nightmare. None of this shit is your fault,” he declared fiercely, his hand tightening at my neck. “The blame for this shit rests solely on your father’s shoulders. Sparky, he is the one who got involved with that piece of shit. He is the reason you almost fuckin’ died.” His voice shook with restrained fury, then his eyes softened. “The only reason you’re standing here today is because you’re the strongest, bravest, most stubborn person I know. That’s what you’re responsible for—you survived when not many other people would have. That’s the only thing you’re responsible for,” he told me quietly, pride in his voice.

  I blinked, my anger fizzling like a deflated balloon. My fragile emotional state could not handle declarations like this. Luckily the soppy stuff was short lived.

  “Now sit the fuck down. You need to rest your legs and pacing like a mad woman is a stupid ass thing to do when you have healing stitches,” he growled, directing me back to the sofa.

  I glared at him, but did as I was told. I caught Gwen’s eye and her face was hard but determined. “Brock’s right, Ames, none of this was your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself.” She screwed her nose up. “This is all your father’s fault. I wish I had kicked him in the nuts when I had the chance,” she muttered angrily.

  I laughed at the frustrated look on Gwen’s face, and I wasn’t the only one amused by her angry proclamation. Cade smiled, shaking his head before he pulled Gwen tightly into his shoulder, kissing her.

  I shook my head slightly, needing more details. I turned back to Garrett who was watching Brock and I with a small smirk. “So what was in it for Harold?” I asked. “I doubt he just said, ‘Sure, I’ll break the law for you and face federal prison. Just buy me a beer later and we’ll be square’.”

  “Money,” Garrett replied, his face hard. “Devon paid him a lot of money. Plus no one says no to Clark Devon. Not without ending up floating face down in the Hudson.”

  I chewed on this for a moment.

  “No one says no to Clark Devon,” Gwen parroted in a sarcastic voice. “Who is he, freaking Vito Corleone?” Her voice still held an irritated note.

  “He’s a lot more dangerous than a movie character, baby,” Cade answered softly, his face blank. “He’s got serious connections to all of the four families and not someone to be taken lightly,” he said.

  “Well, maybe you guys shouldn’t be looking to ‘take care of him’,” I cut in, slightly panicked. “Or else you all might end up sleeping with the fishes.” Despite my use of a corny Mafia quote, I was supremely worried my best friend could become a widow because her husband’s club felt obligated to avenge my kidnapping.

  To my surprise Cade laughed. “Amy, the fucker may have a shit ton of money and some greasy friends, but we’ll burn him and his entire fucking outfit to the ground without breaking a sweat,” he declared flatly.

  I chewed my lip, my worry not leaving me. Brock’s mouth brushed my forehead. “Stop thinking about the asshole babe. You’re here, you’re safe. Nothing or no one will ever hurt you again. I got you,” he promised softly, his mouth brushing my ear.

  The tingles that went down my spine helped to dissolve my worries, as did the strong arms encircling me. Anxiety still swirled in my gut though, and deep down I couldn’t shake the fact something terrible was going to happen.

  “Enough about that cockroach,” Garrett boomed. “Let’s talk about my boy here referring to Katherine as an incubator,” His twinkling eyes were on Brock. “Fucking hilarious, my man. You’ve got my blessing with that one after that shit,” he declared with a grin.

  I ignored the stomach squeeze at that comment and from there the conversation moved on to lighter topics, the tension in the room dissipating slightly before Garrett declared he had to leave. I was upset that my uncle couldn’t stay longer and so was he, it seemed. But he had business in China that couldn’t wait and he promised he would be back to see me as soon as he could.

  After he left I lounged around with Gwen and Belle while the men folk made themselves scarce. Brock seemed reluctant to let me out of his sight for extended periods of time, which meant he popped his head in every now and then, sometimes coming to press a soft kiss to my forehead. It confused the shit out of me, but I was too emotionally drained to contemplate it.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Amy?” Gwen asked, looking at me with concern.

  “I’m sure,” I replied firmly. She bit her lip, looking unsure.

  “I’m going to be fine, Gwennie. You need to go home and get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.” I put my hand on her shoulders.

  “You promise you’ll call if you need anything?”

  “I promise.” I made a cross over my chest.

  She threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you so much.”

  I sighed into the embrace. “I missed you too.”

  She pulled back. “Once this whole kidnapping thing is a little less fresh I’m going to totally kick your ass about the whole taking off thing, and you’ll have some serious explaining to do, young lady.”

  I smirked at her. “Wow, look at you, going all mom on me.”

  She opened her mouth to retort when Cade joined us at the door, Belle in his arms. “Come on, baby, it’s time for me to get my girls home.”

  Gwen glared at him for a second before turning her attention back to me. “I’ll se
e you tomorrow, okay? Love you.”

  “Love you, Gwennie,” I replied quietly.

  I looked up at her husband. “Thanks, Cade, for everything.”

  Cade leaned in, brushing his lips on my cheek. “Don’t need to thank me, darlin’, you’re family,” he said before directing his family outside.

  I stood in the foyer, wrapping my arms around myself, letting the atmosphere of my home settle around me. This was home for me. Not just this house, but Amber and everyone in it. The cold, sprawling penthouse where I grew up had nothing on this place. I felt safe here, like I belonged. No matter the fact there wasn’t a Barney’s or Bergdorf’s in a hundred mile radius.

  “You should be sitting down,” a voice informed me.

  I jumped slightly and turned to see Brock leaning against the doorframe. He was really something in his jeans and cut. Tattoos sprawled across his arms, and I took in his long hair and handsome face. I shook myself.

  “I’m fine,” I replied.

  “That’s why you’re standing in the middle of the room staring into space?”

  “I just needed a moment,” I told him. “You can go now. I doubt I’m in danger of bleeding out anymore and I think my chances of getting kidnapped again are reasonably slim.”

  Brock frowned at me. “I’m not going anywhere, Amy.”

  “What do you mean? Your job’s done. I’m home. You can go back to your life. We can both go back to the way it was.”

  “The way it was?” Brock asked in a dangerous tone, pushing off the door. “You mean the fuckin’ hell of the past year, trying to get you to talk to me, to fuckin’ look at me without running off?”

  I straightened. “I didn’t run off,” I argued.

  “Cut the shit, Sparky. You’ve been avoiding me ever since...” He paused.

  Ever since Ian died was the unspoken phrase hanging in the air.

  “Then after what happened at Cade and Gwen’s wedding you spouted all that bullshit and ran off,” he continued, smoothing over the ‘Ian dying’ part.

  “It wasn’t bullshit!” I protested, for some reason carrying on the lie, protecting my heart.

  Brock stepped forward so he was way into my personal space, his presence overwhelming my senses. I hated it when he did that, using his body against me. He knew it distracted me.

  “Don’t lie to me, Amy. Not again. Not after everything we just went through. Not after I almost lost you.” His voice held a warning but he stroked my face tenderly, staring at me.

  “You have to go,” I pleaded quietly, feeling emotionally raw.

  He shook his head slightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Sparky. I’m not letting you push me away again. We’re going to do this, you and me.” His voice brokered no argument.

  I gazed into his eyes, taking in the determination and, emotion in them. They were unguarded.

  “I’m afraid,” I confessed finally.

  His face softened. “What are you afraid of?”

  “Losing...” I started, but his fingertips brushed my lips.

  “You aren’t going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  “I know,” I said.

  His actions and the look in his eyes right now told me how much he was in this. I had known deep down how much he cared about me, but self-preservation had me in denial.

  I took a deep breath, “I’m afraid of losing myself. Of getting so deep in this that I attach everything that I am to you. And if something happens I not only lose you, but I lose myself too.” I told him my greatest fear, what I knew would happen if I gave into what this was between us. Because I knew what we had; it wasn’t hearts and roses warm fuzzy type of love. It was a soul-wrenching, heart destroying, all-consuming kind of love. It could be the greatest thing to ever happen to me, or it could ruin me beyond repair.

  Brock stared quietly for a moment as if he was letting my words sink in. “Baby, you are the most strong-willed, stubborn, brave and irritating woman I’ve ever met. You’re small but you take up an entire room. You aren’t afraid to be who you are and you’ve got this spark inside you that lights you from the inside out.” His hands grasped my neck. “No matter what happens with us that spark ain’t gonna go out. But trust me, I don’t intend on letting anything happen between us.”

  I sucked in a breath, unsure of everything, and certain at the same time. I knew I loved this man who had waited around and still wanted me after everything that happened, but I still hesitated. When I first fell in love with Ian, despite my strong feelings against the sappy emotion, I was ready to jump in, to be with him. Then he broke my heart and I turned into one of those girls who I had strived to be different from. My shield that I had built growing up in a loveless family had cracked. I repaired it with time. But I knew that if something happened with Brock my shield wouldn’t just crack, it would shatter.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re stubborn,” he muttered, sounding frustrated at having to wait through my inner monologue. He covered my mouth with his, kissing me like he had in the car earlier. But before he had been controlled, the flames that sparked between us contained. Now there was no control and the blaze whipped through me in a frenzy. He plundered my mouth, hands running all over me. He yanked my body against his and I moaned slightly at the feel of his hard on against my stomach. His hands squeezed and kneaded my ass. I ground my body against his, needing friction, needing to be closer. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I registered him backing us into a wall so he surrounded me, boxed me in. His mouth went to my neck.

  “All I’ve been thinking about for months, fuckin’ months, is getting inside your sweet cunt again,” he growled in my ear, palming my breast. I barely restrained a moan as he tweaked my nipple. All I wanted was him inside me in that moment. “Fuck, baby, do you know how much I wish I could be in that pussy right now?” he murmured, reading my mind.

  “You can,” I whispered, running my hand down to his belt.

  He groaned and grabbed my wrist. “I’m hanging on by a fuckin’ thread here, baby. It’s taking all my willpower right now not to rip your clothes off and fuck you against the wall until you feel me in your throat,” he declared, voice rough.

  Desire pooled in my stomach. “I wouldn’t object to that turn of events,” I whispered, struggling to undo his belt.

  His hand was a vice. I pouted at him.

  “I told you before, Sparky. When I fuck you it’s not going to be tender or careful. It’s going to be rough and hard and I’m going to possess every inch of you.” He swept his free hand up my waist to cup my breast roughly. I whimpered and his hand moved to cup my cheek. “But I’m not doing it while there’s any chance I could hurt you.” His voice was decisive.

  “I’m fine,” I declared, yanking at his cut.

  Brock shook his head. “No, baby. You’ve still got fuckin’ stitches holding your skin together and you can barely walk. You’re pale as a sheet and you’re exhausted after walking to the fuckin’ kitchen. You’re not fine.” His eyes blazed in mine. “But you will be. Then I’ll fuck you into oblivion,” he growled, lifting me in his arms.

  “You’re using sex against me?” I shot at him with a scowl.

  He walked us up the stairs with his eyes on me. “Baby. Fair warning, I’ll use anything against you to get you to drop the shit and make you mine. I’m happy to play dirty.” His eyebrows rose at the promise behind this.

  My stomach did a dip and a thousand dirty images flew through my mind.

  We made it to my bedroom, Brock depositing me carefully on the bed. I sank down in the familiar sheets. Brock started to undress, hanging his cut on a chair by my dressing table.

  “You’re staying?” I asked. I hoped he was. As much as the independent woman in me hated to admit it I was terrified of being alone.

  He looked at me over his shoulder. “Babe, I’m not spending another night without you for as long as I fuckin’ live,” he declared roughly.

  My stomach fluttered at this but I said nothing. I scared myself with the
thought that was all I wanted as well.

  Brock joined me in bed, gathering me into his arms. He stroked my shoulder, eyes on me, as if he was cataloguing my every freckle. Weirdly, I wasn’t at all uncomfortable under his gaze. Partly because it was so hot it would have made my panties catch fire, if I was wearing any. And also because it was full of emotion, of tenderness. He was unguarded and had dropped all his barriers.

  I ran my fingertip across his impressive pec, tracing the lines of one of his colorful tattoos. “Do you think this is going to work?” I asked quietly.

  There was silence for long enough that I didn’t think he would answer me. I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” he replied honestly and my stomach dropped. His hands tightened around me. “We’re going to piss each other off, fight like cats and dogs, and you’re going to act like a bitch. I’m also going to love you more than I have anyone on this fuckin’ planet, babe. I’d do anything for you, die for you in a heartbeat. I can’t predict the future but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure my future includes you,” he finished.

  Wow. That was an answer.

  We sank back into comfortable silence and my stomach did backflips at his declaration. He reached over to turn the lamp off. “You need to sleep now, Sparky. It’s been a hell of a couple of days and it’s looking like I’m actually going to get some shuteye with you in my arms.”

  “Okay, night,” I murmured, snuggling into his hard body.

  As I was drifting off I realized I didn’t tell him I loved him too, and for some reason he wasn’t acting like he expected me to say it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I can’t believe you!” Ry’s hysterical voice screamed.

  I held the phone back from my ear, flinching. Gwen gave me a knowing smirk from the counter.

  “Ry,” I tried to cut in.

  “Don’t Ry me!” he shouted. “What is going on down there? Are you and Gwen just magnets for trouble? Do you have a freaking pyscho homing device sewed into your Chanel? Not only that, you don’t deem it necessary to trouble your best friend with knowledge you have just returned home from a kidnapping!” His voice was getting higher and higher and I worried about the glassware in his immediate vicinity.