Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

“Your mother makes me want to seriously reconsider my stance on hitting women,” he muttered.

I smiled dimly. “Yeah, well, I’m hoping karma kicks her ass when her next surgery gets botched,” I said dryly. “Anyway,” I continued, “when I met Ian I let myself love him and he broke my heart. He did it because he was trying to protect me but it was rejection in my eyes.”

Brock had stiffened and was listening intently.

“So when I came here I was already bitter and I definitely didn’t want love. I wanted sex. Hot sex with a guy that didn’t treat me like fine china.” I smiled at Brock. “I met you and got everything I wanted and everything I didn’t. I fell for you. I was so angry at myself for letting it happen and angry at you that I tried to keep away, but I couldn’t so I acted like a bitch in the hopes you’d decide you didn’t want me.”

“Nothing you could do or say could make me not want you, babe,” he declared fiercely.

“Yeah, I get that now. I was starting to get it then when Ian arrived. And it stirred everything up, especially when Gwen found out and expected me to marry him. So did Ian. I didn’t know how to tell either of them the only thing that came of his visit was that I knew I wanted you. I didn’t want a freaking love triangle but I didn’t know how to get myself out of it.” I took a breath. “When he died I was too focused on taking care of my best friend and getting her home. I didn’t stop to think about me. About you.” I placed my hand over the one he had on my cheek.

“I felt guilty, so when I came back I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I kept you away. Acted like an idiot for almost a year.” I met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Brock’s stare was level, as if he was calculating my words and his response. “Babe, this is not all on you. The start of this…it was fucked. I knew I wanted you for more than just sex but I don’t think either of us was ready. I let you keep me at arms’ length. Then Gwen’s brother rocked up and there was obviously something between you. I was pissed. Pissed you let him in. Pissed he could take you away from me. Cause he was everything I wasn’t. He was a hero—he didn’t kill drug dealers and run guns. He could give you a life I couldn’t.”

His eyes never left mine as he continued. “I thought that’s what you wanted. Then when he died it fucked with my head. I hated that you were hurting, feeling pain. A sick, fucked-up part of me was almost glad he was out of the picture, then I realized I would always be second best. That curdled in my stomach for awhile. So I let you push me away. Tried to get over you. I couldn’t. That night at Cade and Gwen’s wedding you looked so beautiful, so fucking perfect. I knew I wouldn’t give a shit if I was your second choice. I wouldn’t care if I was your tenth choice as long as I had you.” He grasped my neck. “This isn’t all you, babe. But let’s leave all that shit behind us and focus on the now, okay?”

I nodded, feeling lighter and happy. “’Kay.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next day I was sitting on the couch at the clubhouse bored as shit. Gwen was napping with Belle, Rosie was nowhere to be found and the main room was uncharacteristically empty. The menfolk had gone off to do god knows what. Probably to prepare a torture room for Rafe or sharpen their knives. I was of two minds about the fact my boyfriend was preparing to commit murder. Obviously Rafe was fucked in the head and a serial killer; he deserved to see justice for his crimes. But this was murder. Brock and the men had appointed themselves judge, jury and executioner. It was a weird lifestyle to get my head around. The law and courts weren’t who decided justice for them. They were.

Something that I was loath to admit was a part of me wanted this to happen to Rafe. I wanted him to suffer. To pay for his crimes in ways a lifetime stay in prison just couldn’t do.

I was also terrified that this would be some kind of trap and my man and my family would be in danger. I had pointed out to Brock this morning that they had no way of actually recognizing Rafe since they had never seen him. My suggestion that I be there went over like a lead balloon.

“No fuckin’ way in hell are you getting within ten miles of that sick fuck,” he growled.

“Well, I’m the only one who actually knows what he looks like,” I’d argued.

“Draw us a fuckin’ picture.” His voice was final.

“Well, how else are you going to make sure he’s not handing over some poor innocent gardener?” I folded my arms in triumph.

Brock cursed under his breath, whipping out his phone. He scowled at me and stormed off. He had come back ten minutes later and thrust the screen in my face.

“This the motherfucker?” he bit out.

I squinted at the blue eyes staring at me through the screen. I nodded.

“Jesus, I feel like I’m gonna have to handcuff you to the goddamn bed so I can leave without spending the whole day worrying you’ve done something stupid like go shopping,” he muttered under his breath.

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “You handcuff me to the bed with anything other than sex in mind and I’ll shave off your eyebrows while you sleep,” I threatened.

Brock’s eyes darkened and he stepped forward, grasping my hips and pulling my body flush to his. “You into that sort of shit, Sparky?” he asked, voice hoarse.

I nodded slowly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “How am I supposed to leave you here knowing that shit?”