Firestorm

by Anne Malcom

  But now while I was imprisoned, facing the grim reality of my own mortality, I couldn’t help but think back to when I first saw him.

  Brock.

  CHAPTER THREE

  One Year Ago

  It wasn’t love at first sight. Fireworks didn’t explode between us, nor did my angelic good looks and womanly wiles ruin him for anyone else. Pure sexual attraction was what it was at the start. Nothing deeper. No romance novel, “you are mine for the rest of eternity” crap. All that magic was saved for my best friend. Not that I begrudged her, not for a second. She deserved every inch of that fairy dust that was sprinkled between her and Cade. I made sure none of that shit settled on my designer clad shoulders. I had been all sparkly eyed and struck dumb by love. By her very brother, in fact. I had been there, got the t-shirt and the kick to my lady bits. Okay, maybe more like a gunshot wound to the heart. The pain was as fresh as it was the day Ian yanked my heart out of my chest and stomped on it before handing it back to me.

  “Ames, we had fun—it was amazing, in fact. You’re an incredible person, beautiful inside and out. You’re special. I love you. But this can’t work. You can’t pine for me while I’m thousands of miles away. I might not come back. I can’t be thinking about you. I need to stop this before it’s too late and shit gets complicated. You’ll thank me later.”

  I gripped the cocktail shaker in my hand tightly at that memory, anger a more comfortable companion than heartbreak. Pining. Me? That was exactly what I had been doing for a fucking year. There had been men. I hadn’t been a nun. I wasn’t one of those girls that said goodbye to orgasms because she was hoping her “true love” would get his shit together. I was, however, a hugely toned down version of my former sexual self. There had been men. But not many. And every time I took someone to bed I felt like crying. Heartbreak had turned me into a sniveling mess.

  So I had decided as well as leaving New York I was leaving the sad and pathetic Amy Abrams behind. I wasn’t becoming a new person. I was going to be the old Amy. Pre Ian. That Amy knew what the deal was. Friends, high heels, designer threads, great cocktails and sex. Just sex. No messy strings, no emotional attachments.

  I had originally thought this decision was ironic, considering I was moving to a tiny town where the fuckable men pool would be small. Miniscule.

  But I had been pleasantly surprised after my first few days here. It was as if this town attracted beautiful men. If I was a conspiracy theorist I would have been suspicious at just how a town this small managed to get such a great selection of men. I was not. What I happened to be was horny. I didn’t care if they were a government experiment gone wrong (or incredibly right), or aliens from another planet. The last time I had sex was months ago. That had to change.

  I doubted that I would be finding any eligible bed buddies at our store opening, but I was delightfully surprised. My eyes flickered to the sexy policemen that had waltzed through the door not ten minutes ago. They were hot. But they were clean cut, handsome, good guys. Well, I didn’t know if they were technically good guys but they represented them. They were a little too close to a certain soldier who I was trying to get over. No, I didn’t need a good guy. I didn’t need someone who would treat me right and tell me I was beautiful. I needed an asshole. Someone who would fuck me and then not call me until he wanted me in his bed again. Someone who I wouldn’t fall in love with.

  I was passing a beer to one of the cops, fluttering my eyelids just a little (just because I wasn’t going to sleep with them didn’t mean I wasn’t going to flirt) when my eyes flickered to the door. Or more precisely the leather clad hunks who had just walked through it. I recognized Cade straight away and followed his murderous stare. It was aimed at Gwen, or more precisely Luke’s hand, which was at Gwen’s hip. In any other circumstances I would be tickled pink at Gwen flirting with a member of the opposite sex. But right now I was thinking it might be conclusive to a brawl erupting in our store. Not that I wouldn’t pay to see those two men wrestle; that shit would be awesome. I just didn’t want it happening so close to all of those innocent accessories.

  I caught Gwen’s eye and tried to give her a look. We could usually communicate pretty well with a look; we had an uncanny connection. But unfortunately “the hot biker who seems a tiny bit obsessed with you is currently storming over to potentially smackdown with the local cop who also seems obsessed with you” was not something that could be communicated with a mere look. We had to work on some kind of sign language.

  I shrugged my shoulders and settled in for the show. Unfortunately my front row seat was interrupted.

  “Three beers. Thanks, sweetheart,” a rough voice requested.

  I didn’t move my gaze from Gwen and Luke, who had just been joined by a furious looking Cade. Uh oh.

  “I’ll be with you in a sec,” I told the voice, wishing I could read lips.

  “You got something better to do than give out drinks? I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t be standing behind a bar,” the voice replied dryly.

  At this point Cade grabbed Gwen’s hand and pretty much dragged her out of the store. I grinned at her as she went past, amused at the turn of events.

  My grin disappeared and irritation flared at the deep voice’s last statement. I reached into the fridge and grabbed three beers, turning to thrust them at my unhappy customer. They were free, for fuck’s sake, who was he to act all snippy?

  “Here. I assume you haven’t died of thirst in the minute you’ve been waiting,” I started, turning to meet this guy’s eyes.

  I stopped short. This guy was hot. Granted, there were a lot of hot men peppered around this room, but this guy was hot. He looked like a cross between a surfer and an outlaw. His sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun (holy crap what an awesome man bun it was). He had tanned skin, which was contrasted by some serious blue eyes. I felt them pierce my soul; okay, my ovaries. His nose was slightly crooked like it had been broken a couple of times too many. It seemed to make him hotter, to contrast the clean cut surfer look. Well, that and his tattoos. I could see one snaking up his neck and his hands had letters on his knuckles. Unfortunately I couldn’t get a good look. I did know his hands were big and you know what they say about big hands. I took a quick glance at his body which was hidden under a leather vest and shirt, but there was no hiding the bulk. I swallowed, feeling my mouth water.

  Don’t drool in front of the biker.

  “I would recommend you not quit your day job, sweetheart—I don’t think bartending is your calling. Your barside manner needs some work,” he smirked, revealing dimples.

  Dimples!

  He also reached over and snagged the bottle opener, his hand lightly brushing past my stomach. His touch felt like an open flame that spread south of the spot he had just made contact with. I was certainly attracted to him. His body at least, not his mouth. Actually his mouth was equally as attractive as the rest of him, just not what came out of it.

  “Yeah, well, no one else seems to have a problem with my bartending skills,” I retorted, ignoring him pointedly opening the bottles.

  He raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down. I felt like his was doing something incredibly naughty and he wasn’t even touching me.

  “I can see why, Sparky. I’m thinking most men would drink cold piss if you served it up wearing that. Tits like yours, who cares if you’re a bitch?” He winked and walked off.

  I let out a breath and welcomed the flame of irritation this man had kindled. He had just called me a bitch seconds after meeting him! I wanted to pour a beer down his front and simultaneously lift up his tee and lick his abs.

  “Holy crap, did you see that? I totally thought Cade was going to pummel Luke for a second. But now I see he is channeling a different emotion.” Lucy peered at the door Gwen and Cade had just exited, leaning on the bar.

  I snapped my gaze away from the jean clad ass of the surfer and turned my attention to Lucy, who was joined by Ashley and Rosie.

  “Well, it look
s like my brother has decided that Gwen is his and she shall talk to no other man,” Rosie joked, sipping her cocktail. “Seriously, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he started beating his chest grunting ‘Gwen mine,’ before he dragged her off.”

  I smirked at them “I don’t think the two of them will be doing much talking either. I’d bet her new dress is getting snagged on a brick wall right now.” I paused for a moment, feeling sad about the brutal treatment of such an innocent dress.

  Rosie giggled. “It’s about time Cade set his sights on a woman who has class…and someone who doesn’t think belts can double as skirts.”

  I glanced at the three girls with a smile. Our arrival in Amber had been so much better than I expected. Not only was our house amazing, the men unnaturally hot and the town actually nice, but we had also seemed to fall right into rhythm with a kick ass girl posse. These chicks not only had good taste in clothes and cocktails but they were genuine and friendly. I felt more comfortable with them than most of the girls I grew up with. They were real. Their fathers didn’t own banks and I didn’t think they summered in St. Tropez, which is exactly what I liked about them. They didn’t their lives in order to impress or incite jealousy in others. They just lived. I dug it.

  “I’m just happy Gwen has chosen a guy with so many delectable friends,” I replied, gazing back over at the bikers who didn’t look at all uncomfortable at being in a woman’s clothing store.

  Rosie followed my eyes. “Yeah, the guys are freaking hot,” she sighed. “It’s a shame my chances of getting into any of their pants are hampered by the fact my brother would most likely cut the dick off any of his brothers who touched me.”

  I gazed at her with sympathy. “That seriously sucks, babe. Having men like that in such close proximity and not even being able to sample their wares?” I shook my head. “It’s a crime to humanity. I’ll be sure to give you explicit details of what happens when I get into bed with one of them...or all of them.” I winked at her and they all laughed.

  I spent the rest of the night serving drinks, chatting to the locals and drinking cocktails. I also managed to give Gwennie a good-natured ribbing about her hot guy faceoff and subsequent make out session with a sexy biker. Not that I saw her make out with said biker but by the looks of her when she came back in, she definitely played tongue hockey with Cade. Not to mention the panty-dropping kiss he slapped on her once they got back. I think she had been officially claimed. I was happy for her. She deserved it.

  Despite her reservations I think she was going to go for it. I supported her wholeheartedly. That was of course, after I had gotten my Uncle Garrett to get the lowdown on this Cade Fletcher and the “Sons of Templar”.

  He had friends in high and low places and didn’t ask any questions. What he had come up with was slightly troubling; they were on ATF and Fed radars for suspected gun running, but hadn’t been charged with anything in years.

  Cade had priors, but again he hadn’t been charged for over two years. More importantly, his rap sheet had not contained anything to do with hurting women. In fact, one assault charge had been for protecting a woman. Granted, he had broken the jaw of the guy he assaulted. And the arm.

  Not that lack of evidence proved he didn’t hurt women, it could simply mean he didn’t get caught. But I had met him. And Gwen had given me in depth descriptions of their encounters. Although he was no doubt involved in some nefarious things with his club I got a good feeling about him. And about the way he looked at Gwen. It was intense, that was for sure, and it was something that would make my panties set on fire if it was directed at me, but it was good.

  Not like the way Jimmy looked at her. Like she was a possession. An object. I had never liked him. From the moment I met him something didn’t seem right with him. His smiles never met his eyes; he was too charming. But I didn’t say anything to Gwen. I didn’t even follow my gut and look into him. I knew Gwen was besotted with him and didn’t want to invade her privacy. It would also put a huge strain on our friendship. So I said nothing. Well, maybe not nothing, but I didn’t scream at her to run from the sociopath as quick as her Manolos would take her.

  That’s what I should have done. It was something that would forever be on my conscience. So I wasn’t taking any chances. I would watch Cade carefully, although I didn’t think he would be a danger to Gwen. Her heart and her capacity for how many orgasms she could handle may be in danger though. I would do everything in my power to make sure my best friend didn’t get hurt again.

  Just because I had a watchful eye on Cade, did not mean I wasn’t glancing at my own biker. I had caught his eyes a couple of times during the night and he had grinned at me. I hadn’t grinned back, but I think my vagina had. By the end of the night I was convinced that our silent conversation had resulted in a mutual agreement. One that meant I was going home with him tonight. And Gwen had informed me that she wasn’t coming home. We were both getting laid tonight. High five for Team Abrams and Alexandra.

  The party had wound down; only our newly formed girl posse and the small group of leather clad gods remained. After I had cleaned up my workstation (okay, cleaning up accounted to me draining the last of my drink and sweeping everything to one side), I had expected to see the sexy surfer again for more beer. Since he was a man at a clothing store he would be needing booze, but all of the men had sat on their single beers for the entire night. That had puzzled me. I owned the joint and I was halfway to blotto. I speculated they didn’t want the cops in attendance, who had been watching them, to have any reason to pull them over.

  I had met all of the other men on the night of Rosie’s party. Heck, I had grinded up on Dwayne (christened this because of his uncanny resemblance to my crush The Rock) half of the night. Unfortunately, despite his similar looks to my celebrity crush, there was not much of a spark. Sure, he was hot and I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, but I didn’t want to climb him like a tree either. The same could not be said for Brock. He was someone I hadn’t seen at the barbeque so Rosie had introduced us when our two little groups had merged.

  “Amy, this is Brock. He was MIA on the day of the barbeque and he has only just made it back into my good graces,” she teased, smirking at him.

  “Oh, we’ve met and had a discussion on Amy’s lack of future in the bartending field,” Brock remarked, face blank but tone teasing.

  “I don’t know, brother, if our bar had a woman that looked like that behind it I think I might just take up residence there.” Lucky winked at me.

  “Like you don’t already,” Dwayne shot at him.

  I smiled at the kid warmly and raised a triumphant eyebrow at Brock. Of all the people I had met in the club Lucky was my favorite. He was a freaking funny guy, which was interesting since on first glance he looked like he drop-kicked puppies for fun. He was Hispanic with a bald head, harsh features and tattoos covering everything but his face and neck. Once he smiled, which was often, all of his menace melted away.

  We had formed a bit of a huddle and I was currently squeezed with Rosie on one side and Brock on the other. I didn’t miss the way his arm brushed mine, nor did he miss the way I leaned into him. We didn’t speak; well, apart from him whispering in my ear, “Need a ride home tonight, Sparky? Think you’ve been sampling your wares a bit too much.”

  I failed to hide my shiver at his breath at my ear and glanced up at him, nodding. We both knew he was giving me much more than a ride. Or maybe more than one kind. Har har.

  His hair had been released from its bun and was falling in waves around his face. Seriously hot. I wanted to rake my fingers through it. I had to form my hands into fists so I didn’t do just that.

  “Okay, I think I need to go home now. The room is spinning and not in a good way. For future reference Amy has a heavy hand with the liquor when making cocktails,” Rosie declared, wobbling slightly.

  “I’ll take you home, Rose. I’m dropping the heavy-handed bartender off, you’re on the way,” Brock said.

  “Oh, right on. T
hanks, Brocky. Do you need my car? I don’t fancy trying to fit two of us on the back of your bike,” Rosie replied, smiling vacantly.

  “Got a cage babe. Knew you girls were bound to suck back too many cocktails. We had contingency plans,” Brock declared. “And I thought we talked about you calling me that,” he added, frowning.

  “Calling you what?” Rosie asked innocently.

  “You know what.”

  “No, I don’t,” she argued.

  Lucky and Dwayne shook their heads, grinning.

  “For fuck’s sake, just get your ass out the door and into the truck,” Brock ordered, running his hands through his hair.

  I followed their journey, entranced.

  Rosie stayed put, frowning at Brock. I knew from experience that no matter how drunk a woman was she did not respond well to getting ordered around. Well, outside the bedroom at least.

  I turned to let Gwen into the circle, my movement pushing me closer to Brock. I felt his hand brush my ass and my eyes flared in surprise.

  “Are you okay to get home?” she asked me with concern, unaware I had just been fondled by a cocky biker.

  I swallowed, ignoring the flames of desire that had followed said fondling.

  “Yeah girl, Brock here is taking me and Rosie home,” I informed her, eyes on Brock. His gaze was hot on mine.

  “Thanks, Brock,” she said, her voice a little breathy. I didn’t blame her; this guy had a presence. An air of sex, if you will. “No problem, Gwen. Kick ass brownies, by the way.” He grinned at her.

  That’s it, I deduced. I was making brownies if it got me a smile like that. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t boil an egg. I’d figure out a way.