Chapter 2 Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson: When suppressed desires explode...danger!

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Dr. Jean Broody tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his stylish, sleek, grey, super luxurious Mercedes S63 AMG Convertible, to the sound of Fuse ODG and Sean Paul's 'Dangerous Love'. He looked very relaxed behind the wheel, obviously enjoying the beautiful sunny weather. It would have been more his style if that sexy, powerful convertible were to be roaring down the road. But from the slow drive and his relaxed posture, Jean was obviously not in a hurry. After that good food and that hot threesome with the sexiest sisters he'd ever had the thrill of fucking at the same time, he was feeling no pain. That wasn't the first time he'd been to the house of the De Luca sisters to have a hot afternoon romp. Those two were insatiable. Jean grinned as he recalled the sisters' words as he was leaving their house that afternoon. They claimed they loved worshipping his hot body and getting their worlds rocked by his amazing cock. Well, he adored them and loved the fun they always had, but they drained the hell out of him each time. Damn! Although he wasn't in a hurry, he couldn't wait to drop into his bed and have a good sleep.

Jean heard the gunshots before he saw the armed men. "The fuck..." He turned off the music and began to slow down since the action was ahead of him. Jean's mouth fell open in shock as he wondered what was going on.

He watched as about seven gun-wielding men in military clothing walked out of a large house onto the street. They looked so fierce Jean unconsciously hit his breaks. What surprised him was the fact that some of the soldiers wore protective gear. It was a Saturday afternoon. What was with the full amour, he wondered. Maybe it was a military drill of sorts, Jean thought. But what happened next quickly shot down that thought. One moment the soldiers were shooting in one direction, in the next moment, all of them were clutching their bloody hands and screaming murder. They'd been shot by someone. But who? Jean couldn't see anyone. With heart pounding in terror, he quickly parked beneath the closest tree and sunk low into his seat so that he wouldn't be seen by anyone. Whoever it was the soldiers were hunting was obviously not only highly trained and dangerous but also had a sense of humour Jean couldn't help but think. But for the fact that he was scared shitless at the sight of all those hunky military men screaming their arses off in pain, he would have laughed his head off.

Jean peaked outside, trying to see the criminal who was handing the soldiers their arses. He saw more soldiers emerge from the high gate of the huge house and heaved a sigh of relief. He hoped they got the bastard before he ran his way. He definitely wouldn't know how to defend himself against a gun-wielding psycho. Although Jean was one of seven children of his parents...all boys, he hated anything that had to do with violence. One would expect someone who grew up amongst boys to be used to some violence but that wasn't the case with Jean. He knew how to defend himself when it became very necessary, thanks to the martial arts classes his father had insisted they all take. But that was about it. Jean didn't think his skills, which he was sure he'd forgotten anyway, could compete with gunshots. He heard more shots and screams just as a figure clad in black jeans, a black t-shirt that stuck to his body like a second skin, black cap, and black gun holsters on his hips, shoulders and thighs, started running towards where he was parked.

"Oh no, no, no..." Jean groaned as he peeked at the G. I. Joe figure heading his way. "Not like this..." He muttered, knowing his end was near. He contemplated calling his mum to say farewell. Then he decided to spare the poor woman and call his twin brother Dean instead. After all, he was going to miss Dean the most...that is if there was anything such as missing in the life beyond.

But Jean couldn't even bring himself to reach for his cell phone. So he closed his eyes and began to pray like he'd never prayed before. He prayed hard to be spared such an anticlimactic death. He was having so much fun in the world to leave it that soon. Maybe he could clean up his act... Jean asked God to forgive him for what he'd just done with the De Luca sisters and all his other kinky encounters. He promised to be good. If God could just...

Jean heard footsteps beside him and opened his eyes. He told himself not to look but his eyes and head wouldn't obey. He found himself staring at an African-American male of not less than six-foot, with broad shoulders and a slender but well-honed muscled body which was evident under the tight black T-shirt he wore. He couldn't see his face well due to the cap that had been pulled down low to shield the criminal's eyes. Jean watched as the man stood to his full height right beside his car and aimed at the military men. This time he shot at each man's shoulder. He did it with precision and cheeky ease. Jean gulped audibly. He couldn't help but marvel at the fact that there was no scratch on the man. He was obviously a pro. When the man began to turn his head in Jean's direction, he knew his end had really come. He couldn't believe the big guy upstairs hadn't listened to his prayer. And after all the lives he'd saved too... That should at least count for something, right? How about all the happy endings he'd given to all those women? Surely that could...

"Dean?" The criminal growled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jjj...Jake...Jack...Jackson..." Jean stuttered as he stared up with his face filled with shock and incredulity at the man he'd met about twice. The man was a Navy Seal for fuck's sake. "Ha...have you gone rogue?"

"Get the fuck out of here Dean," Bradley growled. "Now!"

"And risk getting shot at?" Jean gasped. "Are you nuts?"

"I will distract them to enable you..."

"How about hopping in so we both get out of here?" Jean shot back. He knew he would be better off having someone who could shoot, inside his car at that particular moment.

"I already have my own exit, asshole." Bradley looked exasperated. "Go now before I do otherwise you will become a target. And trust me, they will kill you."

"I can't see any cars around." Jean turned his head to quickly scan the area. "Where exactly is that exit?"

"Fuck me!" Bradley rasped, wishing he could deck his colleague's annoying friend. "Cool droptop." He murmured, giving Jean's convertible a fleeting, uninterested look. "Too bad it's going to be riddled with bullets anytime soon. Will you just do as I say, you idiot." He growled, growing exasperated by the second. But for the fact that his friend and fellow Arrowhead, Ty, who also happened to be his supervisor, would tear him a new one if Dean lost his life, Bradley would have left the fool to his own devices. He looked up and saw about twelve armed men turn in their direction. "I won't say this again, Dean. Get the fuck out of here before they notice you and start shooting."

"Look at the number coming." Jean retorted, sinking even lower into his seat. "Surely you can't escape..."

"I've been escaping just fine so far," Bradley growled as he reached into the Convertible and turned on the engine. "Now go."

"Just..."

"Fuck!" Bradley suddenly gasped in pain. "I'm hit, you asshat." He groaned, feeling a sharp pain in his groin area. "Oh god, I swear if I lose my dick I'm going to kill you myself, you idiot." Even as the pain stole his breath, Bradley leaned against the side of the car and shot at the men running towards them. He began to pant harshly as the pain in his groin intensified. "No, no..." He protested weakly when he saw Jean getting out of the car. "Just go."

But Jean ignored Bradley's protests and rather pushed him with all his might, into the backseat of the car. Then he jumped back into his seat, floored the accelerator, and tore out of there even as the hood of the car rose to cover its occupants. Jean heard and felt about two bullets hitting his car but he wasn't bothered at all. His main goal was to get Bradley to a hospital. Dr. Jean Broody drove like a maniac. The need to get Bradley medical help overrode any sense of fear he felt. In his head, he dared the shooters to chase him. He didn't think any vehicle they had at that moment could outride his car which was said to be the world's fastest four-seat convertible. The assholes were welcome to try. It was time to get his money's worth he thought even as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt.