Firestorm

by Anne Malcom

  “When you passed out, when I saw all that blood—” He flinched at the memory. “I was resigned to the fact I’d have to life without breathing. Without oxygen. I was willing to give you every last drop of my blood if it meant the world wouldn’t lose you. Then you woke up. Threw the bitch.” Brock grinned. “That’s when my breath came back. So you see, when I’ve stared at what the world would look like without you in it, I don’t like anything that would remind me of that situation. Nothing, babe.”

  I gaped at him. “Well, not much can distract me from an impending confrontation with my mother, but that’ll do it,” I said blandly.

  Luckily Brock didn’t expect any heartwarming, heartbreaking declarations from me because he smirked and grabbed my head, laying a huge smacker on my lips. I got lost in the kiss and before I knew it we were full on making out, pent up desire flowing through us both. I was about to scramble onto his lap when my door burst open.

  “Detach! Detach!” a familiar, slightly hysterical voice demanded.

  I reluctantly complied and turned to my best friend. I didn’t get the chance to say a word before I was unceremoniously dragged from the car.

  “Let me look at you.” Her eyes darted up and down my body, searching for something. She seemed satisfied because she met my eyes and paused for a moment. Gwen then promptly burst into tears, gathering me into her arms.

  “Oh my god, I’m so happy you’re okay,” she sobbed into my shoulder.

  I sank into her arms, letting myself finally feel all of the emotion that I had been holding back. Before I knew it I was bawling along with her. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, drawing comfort and strength from one another, but it felt good, despite what the waterworks were communicating. Gwen was the person who knew me better than anyone else in the world. She was my sista from anotha mista.

  She pulled back, hiccupping, before a serious look descended on her face. “Your mother’s inside,” she said solemnly, eyes darting to the living room window.

  “We’re going to have to get a priest in to come and exorcise the place once she’s gone,” I replied.

  She nodded. “I spiked her San Pellegrino with some holy water. Imagine my surprise when she didn’t burst into flames,” she said seriously.

  I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Thanks for trying.”

  The roar of motorcycles drowned out any further conversation as Cade, Bull and Lucky arrived. They had been trailing us the whole way.

  Gwen glared in the direction of Cade, who was dismounting his bike, eyes locked on her. “Don’t you come near me,” she ordered, pointing her finger at him. “I am not speaking to you. Mad is not a sufficient enough word to describe my feelings toward you right now. Don’t worry, I’ll think of one and get back to you. Or I’ll consult a thesaurus. But for now stay at least ten yards away from me at all times,” she ordered.

  Cade’s face was soft as he approached us.

  Gwen held both her hands up. “Uh uh! Do not come any closer. I mean it. Your daughter is inside. Go and see her. She hasn’t mastered motor skills or the ability to swear at you so I think your chances are better with her.”

  “Babe. I haven’t seen you in days. I said I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you until I could do something about it. Let me fuckin’ kiss you then you can go on being mad.” Cade was standing right in front of us now.

  Gwen was still clutching my shoulders and I thought she might use me as a human shield against her husband. “You didn’t want to worry me?” she said quietly. “You didn’t want to worry me?” This time it was louder. “You are not a human censorship machine for poor delicate Gwen. I think I have a right to know when my best friend has been kidnapped!” she yelled. “You do not just get to ride off with a vague excuse and leave me thinking about breast pumps and Belle’s baby teeth and lack of them.” She cut her eyes to me. “I started freaking out over Belle’s mouth full of gums and how weird it was she hadn’t started growing teeth yet and it was a big thing.” She darted her eyes back to Cade. “Anyway. You don’t leave me worrying about things like that when my best friend is being held captive. In no world is that okay.”

  Cade crossed his arms. “And what would telling you have done, Gwen? Stressed you out even more than you already are worrying about Belle’s fucking gums? You would have been beside yourself. And I wouldn’t have been able to be there to fuckin’ calm you down. So yes, I didn’t tell you. I’d do it again. I’d rather have you pissed at me than worried and alone without me.”

  On that note he grabbed the back of her head and laid a hot one on her, not unlike the lip lock I had just detangled myself from. After what was a smidgeon too long for a kiss outside the bedroom Cade let her go, touching his forehead to hers. He gave her a look. A look that I felt like an intruder even being witness to. One that communicated a shared secret between the two of them that the world didn’t know about, nor would ever know about. With that look he let her go.

  “I’m going to see our daughter,” he said softly.

  “Kay,” Gwen replied dreamily, watching him walk toward the house with a vacant look on her face. She seemed to shake herself out of it and turned back to me, clutching my hand in hers. “Let’s go inside and get you some tea.”

  I let her drag me inside, following Bull, Lucky, and Brock. Brock had been watching the little scene unfold, leaning on the truck looking all sexy. “I’ll only have tea if by tea you mean vodka,” I replied as we walked through the door.

  “Slugger!”

  Uncle Garrett detached from what looked like an argument with my father, who was standing in the middle of my living room to pull me into a hug. I sagged against him, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke comforting. “Thank god you’re okay, kid,” he spoke softly into my hair, not letting me go.

  The emotion and slight choke in his voice threatened to get me starting with the tears all over again, but they dried up with the sound of a familiar but unwelcome voice.

  “Garrett, now that you’ve pounced on my daughter do you mind releasing her so we can assure ourselves she is not suffocated?” My mother’s cultured voice was dripping with disdain.

  Garrett held me a moment longer in rebellion before he let me go. “Oh, I’m sorry, Katherine, did my display of emotion that my niece was living and breathing make you uncomfortable?” he asked sarcastically.

  My mother chose to ignore him, casting a judgmental eye over me. My outfit was sure to give her an aneurism. I was wearing loose yoga pants so they didn’t compress my bandages. My tee, which I thought rocked, had the Sons of Templar insignia on it and was tight, baring some of my midriff. Brock’s eyes had turned dark when he saw me in it and I deduced I would wear the shirt more often. For once a well-put together designer outfit was not high on my list of priorities. But if she had one comment on it I think I might just try and strangle her with her pearls.

  She seemed to sense this and stayed silent on the outfit front, stepping her pumps forward to stand close enough I could smell the Chanel.

  “Amy, my dear. We’re glad you’re back.” She lightly touched my shoulders, giving me air kisses.

  “Yes. Well, Mother, one could only stay so long against their will before it got dull.” I matched her tone that communicated we were talking about a spa retreat rather than a kidnapping. Like Garrett’s remark she chose to let that one fly over her perfectly styled head.

  My father stepped around her to stand in front of me. The expression on his face was tortured and even miserable for a second until he disguised it. “Amy. I apologize you had to get caught up in this unpleasantness,” he said blandly.

  I raised my eyebrows at his choice of words and felt Brock’s body behind me still. Garrett’s face also got red. I could tell he was about to let loose but I thought I’d beat him to it. “You and your business partner seem to run from the same playbook,” I told him, meeting his eyes.

  He had the good grace to pale slightly. “Amy, I....”

  I didn’t let him finish. �
��You see, Clark Devon also referred to me being tasered, handcuffed to a bed, and being held against my will as ‘unpleasantness’.” I used air quotes. “As if being held captive was equal to the valet scratching your car or eating bad food at a restaurant. I think I would beg to differ about the degree of unpleasantness I experienced. I find it ironic that I had to suffer through your indifference as a child and now your business got me taken against my will. How it almost killed me. How are you going to explain that, Daddy Dearest?”

  “Do not talk to your father in such a manner, Amy Abrams!” my mother chimed in, looking disgusted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mother. I think any respect I had for this man died away when his actions got me kidnapped and tortured!” I snapped at her.

  She assessed me. “You can’t lay all of the blame on your father. You were the one sitting in some filthy bar in New Mexico drinking yourself into a stupor. What did you expect would happen to you, Amy?”

  Silence followed this statement.

  I felt Brock’s heat at my back as he stepped forward and I could feel the fury rolling off him in waves. “Are you fucking serious, Katherine?” Garrett boomed from beside my mother, his normally carefree face distorted in fury.

  My mother looked at him in aghast. “I understand due to the company we are surrounded by you are tempted to think cursing in such a manner is an appropriate way to talk to me. I assure you it is not.”

  “Trust me, Sis, you’re lucky I’m holding myself back,” he sneered. “You’re honestly trying to lay the blame for all of this shit on your daughter? Did they remove your black, shriveled excuse for a heart in your last surgery?”

  “Now you wait just a minute—” My father attempted to defend my mother’s honor.

  “Oh, I would shut your mouth right now if I were you, Harold. The only reason why I haven’t broken your nose is due to the fact this girl has come back breathing.” Garrett pointed to me with his eyes still locked on my father. “But believe me, I’m holding on by a thread here.” He turned his attention back to my mother.

  “I’ve kept my mouth shut for most of Amy’s life. I’ve watched you ignore her, insult her, and deny her any kind of decent human affection for twenty-five years. And by some miracle she turned out to be the person she is today, in spite of having a reptile for a mother. What I will not do is stand here and watch you not only try and lay the blame on your daughter for what she went through, but ignore the reason which is standing right beside you,” he yelled, gesturing to my father. “I’ve held on to my connection to you out of necessity in order to give Amy some semblance of family, and through a misguided idea that since we’re related by blood I’m obligated to share your air.” He looked her up and down. “Now I have no such urge to ever talk to you ever again, you emotionless bitch,” he hissed, his arm still around me.

  My mother gaped at Garrett before schooling her expression. “Now you’re quite done?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “The reason Amy was taken was because she was doing what she always does, acting irresponsibly.”

  “You’re done,” a cold voice announced from behind me. My mother looked shocked, as if only just noticing Brock was there.

  “Excuse me?”

  The way she addressed him actually had me leaning forward slightly, to do what I didn’t know; maybe smash a vase over her head, but Garrett’s arms tightened around me.

  “I mean you and your husband are done spouting this hateful and poisonous shit. I don’t know what kind of people you are to stand in front of your daughter days after she almost bled to death and give her as much love as I have for a suicide bomber and frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is Amy. I’m not having her near either of you for a moment longer,” Brock growled.

  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 take
n 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.

  “Well,” Garrett continued, “your father has certain amount of control over certain high-ranking officials thanks to these businesses.”

  “Let me guess. He owns the notes to more than a few home titles and is a capital investor is many business ventures of certain high-ranking officials.” I deduced.

  Garrett smirked. “Spot on, Slugger. Your father, despite being a fucking twat, is a shrewd businessman. In addition to making a fuck ton of money he also gained influence.”