Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(92)

“He’s dead if he touches a f*ckin’ hair on your beautiful head,” he growled.

“I’d rethink the murder plan due to all of the witnesses,” I stated. “I’m thinking that’s why Clark chose this particular location.”

Another curse. “Sit tight. We’re coming to get you.”

I hung up and glared at Clark. “They’ll be here momentarily, Mr. Devon. Can I do anything else for you? Open a vein? Oh no, wait, I’ve already done that. How about I pick up your dry cleaning?” I asked sarcastically.

“If this meeting goes as I hope, Miss Abrams, this will be the last time you hear from me.”

“A girl can dream,” I muttered.

Silence descended upon us and I was itching to get out of this man’s presence. What seemed like seconds later the roar of motorcycles filled the air. They must have broken the land speed record getting here.

Brock pulled up close to us, leaping off his bike. He strode toward me, pulling me behind him and yanking a gun out of his waistband to point at Clark’s head. Clark looked unruffled. I had to give it to him; the guy had a mean poker face.

I touched Brock’s sleeve lightly. “Maybe not the best place to be pointing a deadly weapon at a man’s head, sweetie,” I said quietly, eyeing the parking lot.

“Give me one reason not to blow your f*ckin’ head off right here,” Brock snarled at Clark, ignoring me. Cade, Lucky, Bull, Asher, and to my surprise Steg all flanked Brock, while a couple of prospects spanned the lot.

“A long stay in a state penitentiary would be a good motivation,” Clark replied, tipping his head to the people walking out of the store, then to the cameras perched in our direction.

Brock seemed to struggle with that for a moment, not lowering his gun.

“As much as I would like to see this f*cker’s brains splattered on the sidewalk, I can think of some other things I’d like to spend shitloads of money on other than lawyer’s fees,” Cade muttered quietly, hand on Brock’s shoulder. All of the men seemed on high alert, resting their hands on their belts. Brock breathed, then lowered the gun.

“Get Amy out of here,” he instructed Cade.

I clutched his arm before one of the men could drag me off. “I’m not going anywhere,” I declared.

Brock’s jaw hardened, not taking his eyes off Clark. “Yes, you f*ckin’ are.”

I held my ground. “I’m the one that is involved in this whole mess. I’d like to see it to the end.” My voice was strong.

Brock sighed. “You got ten seconds then I disregard what my brother and my woman say and I do the world a favor,” Brock hissed.

“I want to propose a truce,” Clark said simply, unbuttoning his suit jacket in the weird way men did.

“Not gonna happen,” Brock replied.

Clark didn’t seem surprised at this. “I already know you are trying your hardest to make sure I don’t see my next birthday. I assume you already know the resources I have at my disposal. Neither of us wants war, I’m sure. And I can guarantee you don’t want to lose any more brothers.” He glanced at Bull knowingly. “Or women.”

The men all stiffened at the threat and Bull stepped forward, hand on his gun. Steg held him back.

“That’s the last time you threaten my brothers and even f*ckin mention our women,” Cade cut in calmly, “or I’ll put a bullet in you myself. I don’t care if I’ve got a whole bus full of witnesses.”

Clark nodded. “Fair enough. I only wanted to point out that this is a fight that you neither need nor want. I would rather not have a nationwide motorcycle club,” his eyes rested pointedly on me before going back to Cade, “interrupting my life. And I’m sure you could do without any complications resulting from this. So I would like to suggest a ceasefire.”

“You took one of our women. Fucking tortured her. Nearly killed her. You really think we’re gonna forgive and forget that?” Cade answered.

Clark shook his head. “I do not. I do suggest I will overlook the slaying of almost a dozen of my men and personally deliver the man responsible for the injuries Amy sustained during her stay with me.”

“So you think handing us one of your foot soldiers is enough to forget what you did? Think again, old man,” Cade glared at him.

“Rafael is not a foot soldier,” Clark said calmly. “He is my son.”

I hissed in a breath and this and even the staunch men were taken aback. This was f*cked up.

“You think I’d trust a man willing to kill his own kin in order to save himself?” Cade bit out in disgust.

A glimmer of something flicked through Clark’s eyes. “Why else would I hand over my son if I wasn’t going to keep my word?”

There was silence as everyone chewed on this.

“You hand him to us, and any f*ckin’ inkling that I get you’re setting your eyes in our general direction it’s war,” Cade said finally.

Clark nodded. “I assure you we will never cross paths again. You have my word.” He handed Cade a card.

All of the men simultaneously stepped forward as he held it out, Brock pulling me behind his back yet again.

Clark ignored this. “A number you can reach me on. You pick the time and place for our exchange.”