Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” he instructed the men left watching our stare off. With that he had left.

That was hours ago, and had it not been for Rosie and Lucy I would have gone insane with worry. Or at least murdered a prospect. They had been amazing, plying me with enough alcohol to calm me but not enough to get me drunk. I could tell by the shadows in their eyes that they were battling with demons of their own. Laurie had been their friend.

We all abruptly stood when we heard motorcycles approach. I ran to the door and a prospect stood in front of me, blocking the exit. “I can’t let you go out there,” he said firmly.

I glared at him. “Either you let me out there or I make sure you are never able to have children,” I informed him coldly. He stared at me, not looking like he was going to back down.

“For fuck’s sake, Tiny, let her fucking past. I doubt anything will happen to her on the parking lot of the clubhouse. I’d be more worried about your immediate safety,” Rosie said from behind me. Tiny gave me another look before stepping aside.

I ran out to where Brock had gotten off his bike, a weary look on his face.

He caught my expression when I made it to him and steadied me with hands on my shoulders.

“We got her, Sparky—she’s fine,” he told me.

I stared at him a moment then threw my arms around him. My entire body sagged at the relief from his statement. I heard Rosie and Lucy’s sighs from behind me.

He pulled back slightly. “I’ll take you to her.” He handed me his helmet and I took it silently.

When we arrived at our place Brock had barely stopped the bike before I flew off it. I had to see for myself…make sure she was okay and in one piece. Physically and mentally.

“Jesus Christ, babe,” I heard Brock’s mutter from behind me. I ignored it and burst through the door, finding Gwen and Cade in the living room. Everything inside me relaxed when I saw her safe and breathing.

“Gwennie! Oh my god. Oh my god,” I chanted as I rushed towards her, hugging her just to make sure she had all of her body parts accounted for.

Once I was satisfied I pulled back to inspect her. My eyes rested on purple bruising covering half of her face.

“Those fuckers,” I hissed as fury burned through me.

“Amy, it’s okay,” her soft voice tried to reassure me. That only made it worse. How could my tiny, five foot nothing friend get subjected to violence yet again? Hadn’t she been through enough? Didn’t she deserve a life where she wasn’t in danger of getting kidnapped or brutalized?

“Those fuckers!” I yelled, wishing I had the person responsible in this room so I could tear their fingernails off. “How can this be happening to you again, Gwen? You’ve been through enough! Jesus, you’ve been through hell. You almost died at the hands of crazy fucked up men. Now after finally healing some other bastards get their hands on you. Um, no. This is not acceptable.”

My eyes darted around the room to rest on Cade. He was watching the exchange with a grim face and his arms crossed. He was looking all badass and dangerous. What was the use of a dangerous badass if he didn’t prevent kidnappings? For fuck’s sake, he was the reason she was kidnapped in the first place.

“What have you done about this?” I shot at him. “Are you going to make sure this isn’t going to happen again? Cause if you don’t I’m calling my father and he’s going to send his jet to come and take us to an island far away where this are no men within miles.” I changed my mind. “Actually, fuck that. I’m calling him now.”

I was deadly serious as I whipped out my phone, scrolling through my contacts.

“Babe, cool it. It’s sorted. Put the fucking phone down and chill the fuck out,” a familiar deep voice commanded at my shoulder.

I whirled around and directed my glare at yet another biker involved in this freaking mess. How dare he dismiss this like it was nothing now that Gwen was back? Did he not realize what she had been through trying to recover from her last attack? How horrific it was for her to be able to even walk down a fucking street after it?

“Cool it?” I repeated quietly, my voice shaking. “Cool it?” I shouted at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you see Gwen lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors on life support? No. Did you listen to a doctor say she might never wake up? No. Did you sit by her bed for almost two weeks, waiting, thinking over and over how you could’ve stopped this, seen the signs, maybe saved her from the horror she endured? No, you didn’t! I did!” I finished my rant with tears streaming down my face, all of those ugly memories surfacing.

Brock didn’t say anything, didn’t yell back or argue. He just stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. I relaxed into them, thankful for the strength and support they represented. I barely noticed him lift me and carry me out of the room, his mouth in my hair.

He made it to my bedroom and lay on my bed, positioning me so I was curled up tightly in his arms. I clung to him. We were silent for a long while.

“Are they dead?” I asked quietly.

Brock moved his head down to make eye contact with me.

“Every last one,” he declared fiercely.

“Good,” I murmured.

With that his arms tightened around me and I drifted off to sleep.

A month passed after Gwen’s kidnapping. Things were quiet; there were no car bombs, drive-bys or fashion emergencies, so things were good. Well, for Gwen and her overprotective, seriously hot, seriously into her biker things were good. Me? Not so much.

I had woken up alone after falling asleep with Brock on the night of her kidnapping. I had barely seen him since, and when we did bump into each other things were tense. He had come to the wrong conclusions about Ian and I was at a loss as to how to set him straight. I craved his touch. I missed him like crazy but I was also happy for the time to get my head together.