Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

Rafe yanked me against his body like a human shield and I felt a blade at my neck. “Don’t move a fucking muscle, or I slit her throat and you watch her bleed out,” Rafe said evenly, pressing the metal into my neck.

They all stared at me with hard looks on their faces. It was weird considering I had a knife at my jugular, but I somehow knew I’d get out of this. Brock would make sure of it.

“That blade pierces her skin, you’re dead,” Brock hissed, eyes on me.

Rafe laughed. “It already has. I’ve already seen the milky skin part and watched her face as I tore through it. I’ve felt her body and tasted her mouth…”

He was cut off by a muffled shot and something warm splattered my face. Rafe collapsed onto me and I would’ve fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for Brock catching me, throwing Rafe’s prone body onto the bed. I glanced to see he was missing half his head. Okay, I so didn’t want to see that.

Brock framed my face with his hands, his eyes searching my body. “You okay, Amy?” he asked with concern.

A dull roar in my ears only caused his words to be slightly muffled and I couldn’t quite answer. I vaguely registered his hands skimming my body, looking for knife wounds, most likely.

“Baby? Talk to me,” he pleaded, his eyes frantic.

“Is that blood on my cheek and brains in my hair?” I asked in response.

Brock’s face turned grim. “I had the shot, babe. Trust me, I never would have taken it if I wasn’t sure I could make it,” he answered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I muttered, screwing my nose up and fighting the urge to pass out. I wasn’t going to faint; that was way too cliché.

“I’m going to need a shower in about the next five minutes,” I declared.

Brock searched my face. “You’re in shock.”

“I’m covered in blood and brain matter, Brock. I’m painfully aware of that. I need it off.” I hated that my voice was bordering on hysterical. I always thought I’d be totally calm and collected if the situation of a dead body ever arose. Turned out I wasn’t. The fact that my hands couldn’t stop shaking was evidence of that.

Cade appeared at Brock’s shoulder, his eyes doing the same inventory of me. He seemed satisfied and his attention turned to Brock.

“We got this, brother, take care of your woman,” he muttered.

Brock nodded stiffly, “Come on, babe.”

I paused. “What does ‘we got this’ mean? There’s a freaking dead body lying here—he can’t exactly check out without his frontal cortex. What are you guys going to do?” I glanced at Cade and Bull worriedly, envisioning them getting caught trying to dump a body.

They both look unruffled.

“They got it, babe. Let’s get you out of here,” Brock said softly.

I sank into his arms and let him guide me out, feeling exhausted. I gave Cade one final glance, hoping I wouldn’t have to explain to his wife that he got arrested for murder.

Brock had driven me home in a club SUV and the ride was silent. I was barely able to keep my eyes open, adrenaline crashing at a huge rate.

“Gwen?” I vaguely heard him speak into a phone. “Yeah, I got her. She’s fine. I’m taking her home.” He paused. “I mean this in the best possible way, sweetheart, but don’t come. She’s in shock and she needs to sleep it off. I’ll call you as soon as she gets some rest and you can see her.” His voice was firm.

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation but I was pretty sure I heard a shrill threat on the other side of the phone before I passed out.

I groggily awoke as Brock carried me upstairs, directing us into my bathroom. He set me on my feet, supporting my weight as my legs felt like jelly.

“Can you stand while I get these clothes off, baby?” he asked softly.

I nodded and he peeled my clothes off. I stood naked, shivering for a moment until he helped me into the shower. He had taken his clothes off too and he stood naked under the spray. I relaxed as he scrubbed at my hair with shampoo, closing my eyes as the water turned red.

I deduced it was safe to open them after a few minutes when Brock’s hands had moved to wash the rest of my body. All of a sudden the grogginess was gone, replaced by a carnal need. I needed to feel alive, reassured I was safe.

“I need you inside me,” I told Brock and his head snapped up.

I expected him to argue but his mouth crashed into mine and he lifted me, pressing me against the tile. I let the fire soar through me at his touch, clinging to him and the feeling he gave me. Seconds later he was inside me. I cried out at the brutal pleasure of him pulsing through me, filling me.

One of his muscled arms was braced against the wall; the other bit into my ass. His eyes were glued to mine as he pounded into me with the same frantic need I had.

It was silent, desperate lovemaking. Born out of a need to feel alive, to erase the horrors of the events I had just been subjected to. I forgot everything apart from the feel of Brock moving inside me, saw nothing but his blue eyes that were locked on mine. And when I came all I tasted was his mouth as he kissed me in a way that branded my soul.

Afterward we were in the kitchen, Brock cooking me up a huge dinner. My stomach had loudly reminded me that I hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning and I was not too keen on going to bed, having spent the entire day handcuffed to one.

Brock set the plate in front of me quietly. We hadn’t said much since our hot survival sex in the shower; I still needed time to process everything.