Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

“That’s easy,” I purred. “Don’t leave.”

Brock stared at me for a moment and I swear his face looked pained. “You’re going to be the death of me woman,” he growled, yanking my mouth to his.

Unfortunately he had left after laying a hot and heavy one on me, declaring he had “shit to do”. Hence me sitting on the couch, bored out of my skull. This was a biker clubhouse for fuck’s sake. Where was the drama? The skank fights, the orgies, or at least a small explosion?

I glanced at my phone—three p.m. A little too early to break out the cocktails.

“’Sup, Abrams?” Lucky sauntered into the room.

I could’ve hugged him. “Lucky! Thank Christ you’re here,” I exclaimed, standing.

Lucky grinned. “I knew Brock would drop the ball eventually and you’d want a real man.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t handle me,” I deadpanned.

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Having you as an old lady is a full time job,” he replied.

I smacked his shoulder. “You’re an asshole. I can’t wait until some woman comes in and turns your life upside down.”

Lucky grinned. “That’s never gonna happen, babe, I plan on being an eternal bachelor. It would be cruel not to share all of this with as many bitches as possible,” he declared, gesturing down to his decidedly impressive body.

I laughed.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be off doing whatever badass things you boys do that the delicate females can’t possibly be subjected to?”

Lucky’s grin dimmed slightly. “I’m here to make sure you haven’t tunneled your way out of here with an eyelash curler, Brock seemed adamant you’d found a way to take down the prospects,” he told me.

I placed my hand on my chest. “Why, little old me? I’d never defy the orders of my old man,” I said sarcastically.

Lucky laughed. “Yeah, right. What you up to anyway?”

“I was about to set something on fire so my eyeballs didn’t start bleeding from boredom,” I informed him seriously.

“I’ve got something else in mind that doesn’t include any pyromania,” Lucky said, dragging me out of the room.

I closed one eye and squeezed the trigger, bracing myself against the kickback as I fired.

“Holy shit, I got him! Right in the balls!” I screamed, clapping my hands.

Lucky grabbed my wrist. “How about you don’t clap your hands like a seal when you’re holding a deadly weapon?”

I looked down at the pistol in my hands. “Yeah, okay,” I muttered.

Lucky had taken me out behind the clubhouse to a grassy area I didn’t even know was there. It was a mock shooting range and had what looked like scarecrows at the end of it. We had been out here for about an hour, Lucky showing me how to handle a gun and how not to accidently blow my foot off. I had just succeeded in making sure a certain scarecrow could never reproduce again.

“It’s kind of disturbing how good you are at that,” he told me, reloading the gun.

I gave him a grin. “Make sure you tell Brock that just in case he gets any ideas about screwing around with a sweet butt.”

Lucky shook his head.

“Gimme.” I held out my hand for the reloaded weapon.

“Hold on a sec. You going to do what I taught you?” he asked.

I took the gun from his outstretched hand, checked the clip, reloaded it and turned off the safety. I turned towards the scarecrow and fired. A couple of my shots went awry but most went to his head until it fell at an unnatural angle.

“I don’t know whether to be turned on or scared as shit,” Lucky said after I had emptied the clip.

I laughed. I totally thought I looked the part. I was wearing six inch heels, skinny leather pants and a loose khaki shirt with lace inserts in the sides so you could see my longline bra underneath. Totally badass.

“I’m gonna have to say the second one, considering you just taught my fuckin’ woman how to shoot,” a gravelly voice informed us.

I whipped around to see not only Brock, but Cade, Bull, Steg and Rosie watching my little gun show. Brock had his shades on and took a puff of his cigarette. His face was impassive.

“Hey honey.” I waved with my hand not holding the gun.

Rosie stepped forward with a huge grin. “Holy shit, Amy, that was awesome!”

“It was fuckin’ something,” Brock muttered.

“I was bored and Lucky thought it would be a good idea to teach me how to shoot,” I explained.

“That’s the only thing that came to your mind to entertain her, brother? A game of fuckin’ checkers would’ve sufficed,” he said, throwing his smoke to the ground.

Lucky shrugged his shoulders. “I stand by my decision.”

Brock made his way over to us, taking the gun out of my hand and shoving it at Lucky. “I’ll deal with you later,” he informed him.

Before I knew it I was over his shoulder and he was carting me back to the clubhouse. “Hey! What are you doing? I was having fun,” I argued.

Brock smacked my ass hard. “Yeah, babe, we’re going to have a lot more fun once I handcuff you to the bed and fuck you for the rest of the night,” he growled.

My stomach dipped. That was definitely more fun.

“So now that we’re safely out of the clubhouse and away from the gossips that ride the bikes there, you’ve gotta spill,” I demanded, glancing at Rosie who was sitting beside me.

She looked back at me innocently. “Spill about what? The fact that my room is far too close to Brock’s and the walls aren’t that thick?” she deadpanned.

I turned my attention back to the road. “I can’t help I’m amazing in bed,” I replied airily.

Rosie laughed.

We had been temporarily released from the lockdown at the clubhouse. Well, maybe not released, but Rosie and I and taken an opportunity to slip out when everyone was distracted. We figured that going to get some more tequila was hardly life threatening. Plus, I couldn’t sit around the clubhouse twiddling my thumbs while I knew that the men were off at the meet with Clark. I was scared shitless. Hence the need for distraction in the form of alcohol. Considering we were almost back at the clubhouse and hadn’t been attacked or shot at, I gathered that the men were just being way overprotective.