Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

My father stayed silent but at least he had the good grace to look ashamed. My mother glared at him. “Is this the kind of people you hand around with, Amy?” Her voice was filled with distaste and she didn’t let me answer. “Young man, we are Amy’s parents and you cannot speak to us like that.”

“As far as I can see you’re not parents. He’s a sperm donor and you’re the fucking incubator,”

Katherine looked at me aghast, “Are you just going to let this tattooed hooligan speak to me like that, Amy?”

“Of course not, Mother,” I replied. Katherine’s face was smug as she glared at Brock. “He left out the part where I say if I ever have to be subjected to your poisonous presence ever again I’ll make sure every last society bitch on the Upper East Side knows your all of dirty secrets, you spiteful she-devil,” I said quietly, suddenly exhausted.

Exhausted at the emotional toll my mother took on me. On the little niggling hope I had every time I saw her that some glimpse of maternal love would peek from underneath her surgically enhanced, powdered façade. And the little pinpricks I felt every time I was let down. I wanted it over.

Katherine’s eyes narrowed and her face settled into a familiar look. One that meant a scathing insult was heading my way. “Well, Amy, you…”

“Don’t speak to her anymore. Actually, shut your mouth entirely. Take your fancy ass out of this house and far away from my town,” Brock interrupted my mother, stepping in front of me as if to shield me physically from verbal barbs.

I was happy to see my mother shrank away from his muscled form as he stepped closer to her. My father grasped her arm. “Come on, Katherine, let’s not cause a scene. Amy needs her rest.”

My mother looked like she was going to argue but my father’s face turned hard. She lifted her chin and a blank mask settled on her face. “Fine.” She marched out the door without a backward glance.

My father turned to Garrett, who had been watching the scene with clenched fists, although he had smirked when Brock waded in. He gave him a stiff nod.

And then, to my absolute shock, my father held out his hand to Brock who was still standing in front of me. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home,” he said quietly and sincerely.

“Didn’t do it for you,” Brock replied gruffly, ignoring the outstretched hand. “But if any more of your shit lands on Amy and hurts her in any way the next time we meet won’t be quite so civilized, no matter how much I care about your daughter.”

My father’s eyes widened, then he nodded. He turned his attention to me.

“I’m truly sorry this happened to you, Amy.” I swore his eyes were glistening as he walked out.

“Holy shit, your mom may be a MILF, Amy, but she’s a massive bitch,” Lucky declared from the corner of the room, breaking the tension in the air.

I sank into my bed, sighing at the comforting feel and familiar surroundings. This afternoon been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. After Brock had kicked my parents out we had all relaxed exponentially, thanks to the fact we could now breathe without choking on Chanel No. 5 and my mother’s disdain. Lucky and Bull had left, Lucky declaring he needed to “get so drunk I can’t see and drown in pussy”.

I realized there was still a grim reality to face.

“What about Clark?” I asked the group around me later once I had settled onto a couch. More like once Gwen had forced me onto a couch after she had demanded to see my injuries. After paling slightly she had declared I wasn’t to move or otherwise I would face her wrath.

Brock, Cade, and Garrett all exchanged a look before Cade answered. “He’s going to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Cade stroked Gwen’s shoulder absentmindedly. She had allowed him back within touching distance but still scowled at him every now and then.

“Sorry, we’re going to have to expand a bit on the vague badass terminology. What does ‘taken care of’ entail? You’re going to give him a stern talking to? Or are you going to off him?”

“No one says off, babe. You watch too many movies,” Brock said from beside me.

I turned to him. “Well, obviously not because I didn’t think that people said ‘he’s going to be taken care of’ in real life, but the phrase was just uttered from Cade’s lips. So there we are,” I snapped at him.

“We’re sorting it out,” he replied stiffly.

“Can you expand on that?” I asked sarcastically.

“No,” Brock said.

I sat up. “No? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I was the one who was kidnapped, so I think I’m entitled to be kept updated on the fate of my kidnapper,” I snapped at him.

Brock opened his mouth but Garrett beat him to it.

“Slugger, that’s precisely why you aren’t going to worry about what limited future that piece of shit has.” His voice held a bite I had never heard from my easygoing uncle. “You got a family here that is going to take care of it. We aren’t shutting you out because we don’t respect your ability to handle what’s going on—we’re doing it so you don’t have to think about him anymore.” His voice was soft and I found myself loath to argue with him.

“Okay,” I relented. “But you’re giving me the lowdown on what kind of business my freaking father was involved in with a crime lord, and how said business translated into me getting carved up by a crazy person,” I demanded.

There was a pause and I raised my eyebrow threateningly at my uncle. I was not taking no for an answer.

He sighed. “You know from experience the variety of pies your father has his manicured fingers in.”

I nodded. I had helped bake some of those freaking pies, so to speak. My mother may consider me an irresponsible party girl, but I had a certain knack for the business world. Not that I would ever pursue it. It was boring as fuck.