Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(96)

“I’ve got something else in mind that doesn’t include any pyromania,” Lucky said, dragging me out of the room.





I closed one eye and squeezed the trigger, bracing myself against the kickback as I fired.

“Holy shit, I got him! Right in the balls!” I screamed, clapping my hands.

Lucky grabbed my wrist. “How about you don’t clap your hands like a seal when you’re holding a deadly weapon?”

I looked down at the pistol in my hands. “Yeah, okay,” I muttered.

Lucky had taken me out behind the clubhouse to a grassy area I didn’t even know was there. It was a mock shooting range and had what looked like scarecrows at the end of it. We had been out here for about an hour, Lucky showing me how to handle a gun and how not to accidently blow my foot off. I had just succeeded in making sure a certain scarecrow could never reproduce again.

“It’s kind of disturbing how good you are at that,” he told me, reloading the gun.

I gave him a grin. “Make sure you tell Brock that just in case he gets any ideas about screwing around with a sweet butt.”

Lucky shook his head.

“Gimme.” I held out my hand for the reloaded weapon.

“Hold on a sec. You going to do what I taught you?” he asked.

I took the gun from his outstretched hand, checked the clip, reloaded it and turned off the safety. I turned towards the scarecrow and fired. A couple of my shots went awry but most went to his head until it fell at an unnatural angle.

“I don’t know whether to be turned on or scared as shit,” Lucky said after I had emptied the clip.

I laughed. I totally thought I looked the part. I was wearing six inch heels, skinny leather pants and a loose khaki shirt with lace inserts in the sides so you could see my longline bra underneath. Totally badass.

“I’m gonna have to say the second one, considering you just taught my f*ckin’ woman how to shoot,” a gravelly voice informed us.

I whipped around to see not only Brock, but Cade, Bull, Steg and Rosie watching my little gun show. Brock had his shades on and took a puff of his cigarette. His face was impassive.

“Hey honey.” I waved with my hand not holding the gun.

Rosie stepped forward with a huge grin. “Holy shit, Amy, that was awesome!”

“It was f*ckin’ something,” Brock muttered.

“I was bored and Lucky thought it would be a good idea to teach me how to shoot,” I explained.

“That’s the only thing that came to your mind to entertain her, brother? A game of f*ckin’ checkers would’ve sufficed,” he said, throwing his smoke to the ground.

Lucky shrugged his shoulders. “I stand by my decision.”

Brock made his way over to us, taking the gun out of my hand and shoving it at Lucky. “I’ll deal with you later,” he informed him.

Before I knew it I was over his shoulder and he was carting me back to the clubhouse. “Hey! What are you doing? I was having fun,” I argued.

Brock smacked my ass hard. “Yeah, babe, we’re going to have a lot more fun once I handcuff you to the bed and f*ck you for the rest of the night,” he growled.

My stomach dipped. That was definitely more fun.





“So now that we’re safely out of the clubhouse and away from the gossips that ride the bikes there, you’ve gotta spill,” I demanded, glancing at Rosie who was sitting beside me.

She looked back at me innocently. “Spill about what? The fact that my room is far too close to Brock’s and the walls aren’t that thick?” she deadpanned.

I turned my attention back to the road. “I can’t help I’m amazing in bed,” I replied airily.

Rosie laughed.

We had been temporarily released from the lockdown at the clubhouse. Well, maybe not released, but Rosie and I and taken an opportunity to slip out when everyone was distracted. We figured that going to get some more tequila was hardly life threatening. Plus, I couldn’t sit around the clubhouse twiddling my thumbs while I knew that the men were off at the meet with Clark. I was scared shitless. Hence the need for distraction in the form of alcohol. Considering we were almost back at the clubhouse and hadn’t been attacked or shot at, I gathered that the men were just being way overprotective.

I turned my attention back to the Rosie-Luke situation.

“But seriously. I’ve watched you do goo goo eyes at Luke for a freaking year now. What’s the deal?” I eyed a car in my rearview mirror that was following way too close. Impatient *.

“I do not do goo goo eyes,” she argued.

“You’re right,” I agreed, “You eye f*ck the shit out of him.”

“He’s hot. I’m a red-blooded woman.”

I took my eyes off the black Mercedes. “So am I, sweetheart, and while I can appreciate that the man can wear the shit out of a police uniform, I do not undress him with my eyes.” I paused. “Well, at least not every time I see him.”

She sank back in the seat. “What does it matter? He doesn’t see me like that. Plus he hates the club. The club is my family.”

“That didn’t stop Romeo and Juliet,” I told her, putting my blinker on so the Mercedes could pass. Didn’t they know I was trying to have serious girl talk?