Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

“I think we’ve outstayed our welcome anyway,” Lucky stated as I heard the faint sound of gunshots. “Boys are downstairs with the wheels. Let’s go.”

Brock turned to me, his eyes hard and determined. A concerned glance flicked to my legs. “You going to be able to walk?”

I puffed up my chest, trying to garner some strength. I had to ignore the pain, let Brock focus on not getting shot. “I’ll be fine, lead the way.”

“Stay behind me, Abrams. If anyone starts shooting get down,” he ordered. His eyes moved to the gun in my hand. “And don’t point that at me again.”

Despite the circumstances irritation bloomed in me. “I can’t make any promises,” I snapped.

“I hate it when Mom and Dad fight,” Lucky whined. “Can we save the domestic squabble for when the probability of us getting shot is considerably lower?” he called over his shoulder.

Brock stared at me for a second, then he grasped my head, pulling my mouth to his. It was a quick kiss, closed mouthed and urgent. His forehead dropped to mine for a moment and he turned. “Stay behind me,” he repeated over his shoulder as he started walking.

I felt dizzy and disoriented, and not just from the kiss. Although it was safe to say my feelings for him had not dulled a bit I had a sinking feeling my light head was due to the throbbing in my legs. I stayed silent; we would get out of here first, then I’d address the blood loss situation.

As we were descending the stairs both men glanced around, guns raised. The sounds of gunfire had subsided and now there was only a disturbing silence. Weirdly, I didn’t feel afraid. That might be because Brock had grasped my hand and used it to pull me close to his back, and he hadn’t let go. We made it to the bottom of the stairs without incident and I let out a breath.

Lucky turned. “We should have the wheels right outside. Everyone think happy thoughts and let’s hope we aren’t greeted with bullets when we open the door.” He waited for Brock’s stiff nod before he thrust open the door.

I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting him to flinch or get peppered with bullets. “’Bout fucking time. What were you doing? Admiring the decor?” A grim voice met us.

I squeezed open my eyes, happy to hear the familiar voice.

“Where’s Amy? She okay?” Cade demanded with concern.

I waved weakly at him and his shoulders sagged in relief. “I wouldn’t recommend this place for a weekend getaway,” I said dryly, fighting the nausea that had just appeared.

Cade’s gaze settled on my legs and alarm registered in his eyes. “Holy shit, Brock, you let her walk with her fucking legs like that?” He moved forward glaring at Brock, who had his back to me.

Brock turned and his gaze followed Cade’s. I noticed something I had never seen before in his expression. Fear. That was the last thing I saw before blackness claimed me.

“Are you sure you know what the hell you’re doing, Hansen?” An angry voice seeped into my ears as I struggled to regain consciousness.

I felt foggy. And cold. Really freaking cold.

I felt sharp pain at my leg but I couldn’t move to flinch, my body immobile. I tried not to panic; the familiarity of the angry voice helped.

“Do you want me to bring up a list of references for you to check while she bleeds out or do you want me to save your old lady’s life?” A calm voice responded.

“I’m not his old lady,” I croaked, finding the ability to speak.

A couple of manly chuckles erupted around me. I slowly opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by my biker family. Cade, Bull, Lucky, and Asher were all looking at me with strained grins. Worry lurked behind their attractive eyes. I moved my gaze to the unfamiliar man bent over my legs, his hands embarrassingly close to my lady bits.

“Gee, you haven’t even bought me dinner first,” I muttered weakly to a bald head. An attractive stubbled face glanced up at me, his face tight with concentration but amusement danced in his eyes.

“How about I take a raincheck on the dinner and stick to saving your life first?” he replied dryly.

“It’s a date,” I replied, ignoring the frustrated sound which erupted from behind the bald guy. My eyes met Brock’s glittering blue ones. His face was tight with concern and he frowned at my legs.

I moved my attention to the fact I was lying in a makeshift bed in the back of a van with a strange man working between my legs. Unfortunately I couldn’t say this was the weirdest place I’d woken up. It was safe to say drinking copious amounts of Ouzo in Greece was not my finest hour. Especially when I woke up in Albania.

“What happened?” I asked weakly.

Cade moved closer to my head, stroking my hair tenderly. For such a rough and scary biker man he could be tender when he wanted. Not to mention the fact he was mind numbingly sexy. Gwen was a lucky woman.

“You were kidnapped. We came to get you,” he said softly, something moving in his eyes.

“I gathered that part, thanks, Captain Obvious,” I retorted and Cade smirked, despite himself. “Why am I currently getting what is getting dangerously close to an exam only my gynecologist should perform?” I asked jokingly, but all of the men in the cab stilled and the air turned dangerous.

There was a beat of silence and Hansen broke it. “Your stitches have torn. Normally that wouldn’t be that much of a big deal, but you had contusions dangerously close to your femoral artery. Whatever happened to make you rip the stitches also made you rip the skin. Since the cuts were so deep and hadn’t properly healed, it punctured your artery and you began to bleed out. Couple of minutes longer you would have been dead.” Hansen looked up and removed rubber gloves I hadn’t noticed him wearing.