Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(36)

“You’re strong and I know you want me. We could be perfect together. Once Clark is done with you I could convince him to let me have you. You’ll learn to enjoy the process.” He nodded to my thighs. “You’ll even beg for it.”

My stomach rolled at the prospect. This guy was fifty shades of insane. But insane could be good in this situation.

“Of course I want you. I’m just not used to such a powerful man controlling me,” I responded, eyes locking with his crazy baby blues. My gaze flickered to the clock on the table beside me. “How long has it been?” I asked, changing the subject.

Rafe stared at me a moment longer before he answered. “Almost twenty-four hours. They gave you something to help you sleep. I’ve been here...watching you.”

Okay, can you spell creepy?

“I like that you were here,” I purred, inwardly gagging. “I want you, but I need some more time so I can properly show you how much.”

Rafe’s eyes flared. “I can’t touch you again, not until Clark decides.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our secret,” I said quietly.

Rafe looked uncertain so I grasped his hand.

“Come tomorrow morning early…sunrise. No one will be around. Just one time, then I’ll wait.” I pulled his finger into my mouth and bit down softly.

Rafe groaned.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered.

He nodded stiffly and turned to leave.

I sagged down in my bed, anticipation overwhelming the pain in my thighs. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I might actually stand a chance. Okay, it was slimmer than a model at fashion week, but it was a chance. I had watched the guards religiously the past week, looking for some kind of weakness. I knew that Rafe or some other burly mute was outside the door of whatever room I was in. From my wing there was a short walk down a hallway, then down a huge staircase which led to the foyer. Past the foyer was a sitting room and through that was the dining room which I now knew doubled as a torture room. Kind of unsanitary if you asked me.

When I was escorted to my meals with Clark I had watched for any other guards. Apart from whoever was with me there didn’t seem to be any. I knew there was one directly outside the front door; I knew this from watching from my library. What I also knew was that at precisely twenty minutes after sunrise a van came to the front door to deliver what I guessed was groceries. Or it could be drugs. Or freaking Beanie Bag toys for all I knew. It wasn’t important. What was important was this truck came every day at the same time. That truck was my ticket out. All I had to do was somehow overpower Rafe, get his gun, silence the guard at the door and commandeer the truck. I’d put on false eyelashes after five cosmos; I was sure I could manage a simple escape.

I couldn’t sleep. Partly because I had been unconscious for twenty-four hours, partly because I was anxious as hell about my plan and partly because my legs hurt like a motherf*cker. How I was going to manage this when I was barely able to walk was a mystery to me. But I had committed. Rafe would be here any second and I’d rather take my chances with escape than actually sleep with the sicko. Yuck.

I had gone over my plan continuously throughout the night and I knew what little chance I had. I was relying on a lot of shoddy information and uncertainties, and the fact I was injured would hamper me. Chances were I would probably get caught; I might not even make it past Rafe. But I had to try.

In waiting for dawn to arrive and for whatever preceded my mind wandered to Ian, the way it did when I lay in the dark and the memories crept in like demons in the night.





CHAPTER SIX


One year ago


It was the day. The day Ian was going to arrive in Amber. I was a mess.

“Are you high?” Rosie asked me curiously as a customer left the store.

“What? No,” I replied in shock. I wished I was high. Maybe a joint would take the edge off. I wondered where I could get some weed in this place. I’m sure Lucky would give me some.

“You just gave that lady a hundred bucks change instead of ten. And you looked for a sweater for ten straight minutes until you realized it was in your hand,” Rosie said lightly, part teasing, but concern flickered in her gaze.

She knew something was up. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Has it got anything to do with the fact Gwen’s brother is arriving today?”

My eyes bulged. Maybe she was a mind reader. “How did you know?” I asked quietly.

She raised an eyebrow then gave me a sympathetic gaze. “It’s not hard. Every time Gwen mentions how excited she is to see him you go a delightful shade of green and make some excuse to escape.”

My stomach dropped. “Do you think Gwen noticed?”

Rosie shook her head. “No, she’s too excited to see him, plus she’s like encased in a cocoon of infatuation with my brother.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

I shook my head, but before I knew it the whole damn story came tumbling out, along with my very confusing feelings for Brock.

“Wow,” she said when I had finished. Her mouth was open slightly.

“I know,” I said sadly. “You don’t think I could convince them to have a reverse polygamy type situation and they could be brother husbands?” I joked weakly.

She smiled dreamily. “Imagine having two bad ass men doting over you.”