Текст книги "Storm"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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My blood freezes. Is he actually talking about dealing with the triad? The sort of shit that got my family killed and had Raylin on the run?

“Step down, tiger,” Hawk mutters, patting my good shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

“Mr. Hawk.” The man turns to him. The other two guys remain still and silent behind him. “Have a nice evening.”

I expect them to pull a gun. I expect more men to step out of the shadows.

But that doesn’t happen. The three of them turn and walk away, the briefcase full of cash the last thing I see before they vanish in the shadows.

“Storm…” Raylin’s voice is thin. A hard shiver goes through her as her brave façade falls apart.

“I’ve got you, babe.” I haul her to me with my good arm, hold her securely around the waist, fitting her against my side. “Everything’s fine.”

It’d better be.

RAYLIN

I’m shaking. Literally shaking, muscles twitching, my joints like rubber. I can barely stand, and I’m thankful for Storm’s arm around me, holding me upright as the triad members walk away.

Is this over? Is it possible?

Storm’s hold on me is solid, strong. He’s here. Paid off my debt. Offered his protection. He really did it, really saved my life.

He leads me back to the car and slides inside after me, drops a kiss on my forehead and whispers, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I am. Have to be. Because it’s done. Over. Finished.

I’m alive.

Hawk climbs in and we’re leaving. “High fives all around!” He leans back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “This was a tricky one to pull. Good job, team.”

“We’re not your team,” Storm snarls, and I shiver harder at the anger in his voice. Why is he angry? Isn’t he happy this is over?

“Relax.” Hawk opens the glove compartment and pulls out something. A metallic box full of cigars that he offers to Storm.

“No, thank you. You deal with the triads? For real, Hawk?” Storm shifts on the backseat, trying to stretch his leg, but there isn’t enough space. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“You seriously asking me this?”

“An idealist through and through, huh?” Hawk says, glancing over his shoulder at us. “Sorry to break it to you, Stormy boy, but in this business you have to get your hands dirty.”

“Like your daddy did?”

Hawk winces and straightens in his seat, staring ahead as we cruise through the town. “No, not like my dad. Dammit.”

“You sure you know the difference?”

“Yeah, I am sure. Are you?”

Silence stretches. Storm wraps me again in his arms and his warmth seeps into me, calming the shivers.

“This could bite you in the ass,” Storm says eventually.

“Sounds like fun,” Hawk replies drily, and that’s the end of their conversation. We drive to the outskirts of the city, stop at a helipad and—surprise, surprise—a chopper is there, waiting for us.

I’m actually not as surprised as I’d normally be, and I don’t know if it’s the lingering shock from having faced my nightmare and lived to tell the story, or because I’m already getting used to this. Having cars and choppers and people at our beck and call at all times.

So this is what it feels like, being so rich. Not having money, cash overflowing from your pockets. You never see the money. But it pours into the huge, well-oiled machine that is your life, making things happen at a snap of your fingers.

I look at Storm as we take off, at the shadows on his handsome face, in his eyes, and think of what’s yet to come. That well-oiled machine can turn around and swallow you down at any moment, it seems, and the only thing that can save you is people you trust.

And Storm trusts me. I hope he knows I’m there for him, like he was for me.

Chapter Twenty-One

STORM

“It’s a monster,” Rook says, standing by the glass doors leading to the pool, a dark shadow. His arm is in a sling. “This Organization. Has tentacles fucking everywhere.”

“What have you found out?” I shift on the sofa, stretching out my leg. Both he and Hawk have been morose and quiet, drinking scotch and smoking, hanging out at Hawk’s estate house.

Waiting for the police.

They won’t tell me how they intend to play this, where they vanished to last night.

A night I spent twisted in the covers, caught in nightmares. It was so bad, at some point I left the bed to let Ray sleep. I’m goddamn worried—that the triad will change their mind, that the letter we found won’t be proof enough to stop the Organization from gunning us down.

A monster.

“What are they involved in?” I ask again, because both Rook and Hawk are ignoring me. “Rook. Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Don’t know, man. Too much.” He glances at Hawk who shrugs.

What the fuck. “So what now, you’re gonna keep me in the dark? Think that will protect me from something? Fuck you.”

“You’re hurt, man,” Hawk says and pours himself another scotch. “You got to take it easy.”

“Easy?” I rub my good hand over my face. “You serious?”

He toasts me with his glass. He is serious.

Fuck.

“You.” I jab a finger at him, my pulse booming in my ears. He’s gonna give me heart problems, I swear. I’m glad Ray’s upstairs, taking a shower, and not here, not listening to us. “You and Rook have put your lives in danger for me these days. Rook got hurt.” I nod at his sling, a match for mine. “You had to meet with the triad for me. Now you’re trying to bring down the Organization—for me. To stop them from killing me, not because they threatened you, and they’re your parents, and—”

“Storm.” Hawk lifts a hand. “Shut up, bro. You’d have done the same for us, and besides… The Organization has to be stopped.” He sighs, mouth a thin line. “They’ve killed people, dude. Your parents, your uncle, tried to get you, too, and others. This can’t go on. I won’t let it.”

Rook nods and turns to face us. His eyes burn with anger. “You don’t need to know more about the Organization because we’ll bring it to its knees.”

Yeah, okay. Damn, I wish I could have a drink. I wish I could keep them safe.

“You be careful, yeah?” I glare at them, hoping they take this seriously. “Whatever it is you did last night and will do today.”

“Yes, junior.” Hawk nods. “We will. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. We have a plan.”

“That’s what worries me.” I look at Rook who’s rubbing the back of his neck. “What sort of plan?”

“You’ll see when the police are here. I think—” He stops and stares at the door. “It’ll work out, Storm.”

“Has to,” Hawk says, and I turn to see what they’re both looking at.

Raylin. She smiles uncertainly, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

“What you need to do,” Rook says, “is take care of yourself and your girl, you hear me? Leave this to us. Everything will be fine.”

God, I want to believe them, to hope it’s over. Can’t imagine what this story will cost them, how they’ll cope if their dads are proven to be members of the Organization. What will happen to their families.

But it’s too late now for regrets. There is no other way, and I’m fucking glad to be alive, and with my girl.

When Raylin comes to me, I pull her by my side and curl my good arm around her. She smells of sweet soap and freshness.

“Thank you, guys,” I whisper. “For everything.”

RAYLIN

It all happens so fast. We’re staying at Hawk’s estate out of town, and two detectives come to talk with Hawk, Rook and Storm. I thought I’d stay away from this, but Storm looked pale and tired, his broken arm back in the sling, and I couldn’t leave the room. Then he reached for me, and it was settled.

I’m staying. I watch the proceedings from the sofa, my hand on the thick muscle of Storm’s thigh, feeling it bunch up and release as he talks about his parents, his uncle, the attempts on his life, the letter.

The tattoos and the Organization. All that ink. Phoenixes, roses and snakes biting their tails. Circles in circles.

The detectives lose their color a little as they listen. One of them excuses himself to make a phone call.

“We’ve known about the Organization for years,” the other detective says, a gray-haired man with a scar marking one cheek. “We knew about the Phoenix tattoos, but not about the leaders. We don’t have evidence about the attacks on you, and no direct link between your father,” he turns to Hawk, “and the death of the Jordans.”

“So now what?” Storm’s blue eyes are dark. “They get away with it?”

“My father and I,” Hawk mutters, the first words he has spoken since the arrival of the police. He taps the armrest, gray eyes flickering with thought. “We always got along well.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and I wish I could give him a hug. “I went and paid him a visit last night. It was interesting.”

“What did you do?” Storm is frowning. “Dammit, Hawk.”

“I confronted him.” Hawk shrugs his broad shoulders, stretching the material of the blue shirt he’s wearing. “Told him I knew everything. He confessed.”

“But your word isn’t enough, sir,” the detective says. “He can deny it.”

“Not if I managed to record everything.”

Storm opens his mouth to say something, when Rook cuts in.

“Make that two confessions.” He lifts his cell phone, face set in angry lines. “My father confessed, too, when I told him I wanted in. He was proud of me. Proud.” He spits out the last word. “He confessed to offing Tony Jordan, Storm’s uncle. Hope that’s enough to land him in jail.”

“Should. Should be,” the detective stammers. “Hey, Wilson.” He gestures at the other detective who’s still on the phone. “Come here and call this in. We need back up. About to do a couple of arrests.”

“Will the evidence hold?” Rook asks. “Even if they didn’t know they were being recorded? Or does that only work in the movies?”

“We’ll make it work,” the detective says grimly. “We’ll take the Organization down. Oh boy, this is like Christmas.”

I’d laugh at his eagerness, but the expressions on Storm, Hawk and Rook’s faces are dark. I expected them to be sad, but they look worried, instead.

I wait until the detectives are gone to ask why.

“I understand that it’s hard,” I say to Storm as I lead him to the bedroom Hawk has given us. “No matter how angry I am at my dad, I wouldn’t want him going to jail.”

“That’s not it,” he says, voice laced with exhaustion as he sits down on the bed.

“Then what?”

“Something as big and powerful as the Organization won’t shut down because two of its leaders are arrested. It won’t fucking happen.”

“But now you know about it. About the Organization, about the murder of your parents and uncle. You know everything. No reason to try and kill you anymore.”

“Yeah.” He flashes me a smile, faint but real. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” I inform him and sit beside him, so I can wrap my arms around him and kiss him. “That’s why you like me.”

“No, baby.” He kisses me back, breathless. “I like you because you’re the right one for me.”

***

The arrest of the two leaders of the Organization is spectacular. We watch it on the news. A small army surrounds the two middle-aged men as they are led to the police station in handcuffs.

We’re sitting in a hotel suite in Madison, Wisconsin. We’re here to visit Megan, my friend who I left without any explanation a couple of months ago. I’m nervous about meeting her and couldn’t even bring myself to call her first.

Storm thought waiting here for the arrest of the leaders and for the dust to settle was as good as anywhere else.

So here we are, drinking chilled white wine even though the weather outside is turning chilly. It’s cozy and warm inside, warm enough in fact we’re both in underwear, and Storm has been trying to get mine off even though his arm is in the sling and his leg in a bandage, still.

I laugh at the expression on his face when I pull away from him again to sip at my wine.

“Pay attention,” I point at the enormous flat screen on the wall. “This is history happening.”

“This is bullshit,” he says, and reaches for me again.

I put my glass on a side table and let him tumble me on the huge bed. He crawls until he’s next to me, and grumbles when he can’t lie on his side and touch me at the same time.

He’s so funny when he’s grumpy. Funny and sexy. I roll, pushing him onto his back, and bend over to kiss him. We kiss and kiss, and he groans in my mouth, clutching the back of my head with his good hand. He’s growing hard between our bodies, and I suck in a sharp breath at the pang of desire.

I lift my head. His eyes are dazed, his mouth half-open. His hand slides from the back of my neck to my shoulder and down to my breast. He cups it, squeezing it through the fine white lace, his gaze darkening to near black. I roll my hips over his cotton-clad cock and he moans, head falling back, jaw going slack.

Scooting back, I drag down his black briefs, freeing his long, hard cock, and take the head into my mouth. His taste explodes on my tongue—salty, bitter, perfect.

He stills, breath caught, muscles going taut in his legs and stomach. Then I take him in deeper and he groans, his back arching off the mattress. “Fuck.”

I love how he can’t hide his body’s reactions. His good hand fists in the covers, his knees bend, his hips jerk. He growls deep inside his throat when I suck on the head, pants when I lick the underside of his cock.

He gasps when I cup his sack and roll his heavy balls in my hand.

His cock twitches, more saltiness seeping out of the small slit. He’s close. I lick at him, and he curses, fist thumping on the mattress.

“Ray.” He fumbles for something. His wallet for a condom, probably.

I reach for it, pull off the foil and rip it open. I pull the condom over his cock and lift myself, then sink down on him, taking him deep. I gasp as he pierces me and bend over him trying to catch my breath.

“Oh fuck, Ray…” He rocks up into me, swelling bigger. His teeth grit. “Shit.”

Pleasure floods my core. I’m close, too, so close, I just can’t… Can’t stop myself from tightening and clenching, and I shudder, the heat bursting, shooting up my spine, spreading to my limbs until I moan out loud.

He cries out, abs clenching tight, and he comes inside me in hot spurts I can feel through the thin rubber. His hips jerk a couple of times with aftershocks, then he finally relaxes, head rolling.

I lift myself off and he reaches down and holds down the condom as he slips out of me.

“Fucking hell,” he says hoarsely. “Damn.”

I grin as I help him take it off and hop off the bed to carry it to the trash. Then I’m back, crawling next to him and curling so I can lay my head on his shoulder, content.

“Damn, I thought I could last—”

I lay my fingers over his mouth, stopping the words. “Rest.”

He bites lightly at my fingers and I pull them away. “I want to make you come again and again. I wanna see you, taste you, smell you as you come.”

Heat curls in my belly. “Later.”

“When?”

“After you rest.” I settle more comfortably, closing my eyes. “We have time. All the time in the world.”

“Ray.” He swallows thickly, and I open my eyes.

“What is it?”

“Now you’re free from the triad… are you staying?”

I didn’t expect this question, this doubt. He always seems so sure of himself.

“If you still want me.” I wrestle with my own insecurity. “If you haven’t changed your mind.”

“Change my mind? God, never.” And just when I thought I couldn’t love him more, he says “You’re everything to me, Ray. Never forget that.”

From the start he told me this. Put me first. I didn’t believe it then, didn’t understand it.

Didn’t realize he needs me, too. That we hold each other up, complete each other. Love each other.

That this is our story, this is my man, and this is where despite all odds, we get our happy ending.

A FEW WORDS FROM JO RAVEN

Hi! My name is Jo, and I’m a romance addict. I love writing about sexy, tortured boys and the girls who save them. If you like those things, too, then we’re besties!

It’s been more than a year that I began this endeavor—a year since I started writing and publishing romance—and it has been an exciting ride. I have my readers to thank for encouraging me, buying my books and spreading the word, for making this work. You all rock!!

My first two series, Inked Brotherhood are Damage Control, are edgy contemporary romance dealing with characters on the threshold between teenage years and adulthood with all the important decisions it entails. All the firsts, work, college, relationships, sex, leaving the family nest, finding your own path. Plus, they aren’t rich. I like the fact they are (most of them) struggling to make ends meet. That strikes a chord with me.

Now, STORM is not poor, as you know—quite the contrary—and it’s a bit of a departure from my usual style. It is New Adult Romantic suspense, which means a lot more action, bullets and explosions. Quite a lot of sex, too, but that’s typical of what I write. I like rewarding my poor, suffering characters with hot, sexy times.

Let me tell you a few words about STORM and why I wrote this story (which, typically, has turned into a series): when I start writing a story, inevitably I create more characters than the two leading ones. All these minor characters have their own stories, which I want to tell.

Now, if you happened to read the Inked Brotherhood series, and in particular book 5 (RAFE), then you know that Raylin was the roommate of Megan, Rafe’s girl. Raylin doesn’t actually appear in RAFE; from the start she is absent, and then she leaves a note and disappears, leaving Megan with her cat Horatio and the rent. Later Rafe finds out there’s an ex-con after Raylin, which is probably why she split.

(If you haven’t read RAFE, you can find the purchase links here: http://joraven.com/books)

At the end of RAFE I promised to tell Raylin’s story. When I sat down to do so, Storm’s character came to me, and with him, his two friends, Hawk and Rook. I realized this series would be much more fun and action-filled than my other series, and I welcomed the change. Change keeps a writer sane…

And thus was STORM born. I hope you liked their story.

Like with all my series, every book in the Sex and Bullets series will be a standalone novel. Look out for HAWK’s story sometime soon.

Meanwhile, if you haven’t read the Inked Brotherhood and the Damage Control series (the latter still ongoing), then you can find the links to the books below.

▶ If you liked the cover of the book, featuring the very handsome athlete and model Craig Gierish (photographed by FuriousFotog), then check out these two trailers he made for the book, starring as Storm!

Version 1 (Craig’s take on Storm): https://youtu.be/wcDM-NjO8E0

Version 2 (My take on Storm): https://youtu.be/P19qW5Pcjto

▶ One more thing—a treat for those of you who have read RAFE (Inked Brotherhood #5) and would like to witness the reunion between Raylin and Megan… Here you go—enjoy!

Epilogue

MEGAN

I’ve just finished wiping down the last table in my section when Rafe walks into the coffee shop. I straighten and just watch him for a long moment, my heart tripping like every time I see him. His broad shoulders fill the door, his presence fill the room, and then he looks up and grins, and my breath stops.

“Meg.” He winds among the tables, his golden mane catching the overhead lights, his cat-like eyes glinting. Without even checking if anyone is looking, he grabs my hips and crushes his mouth to mine.

“Missed you, too,” I whisper, laughing, when he finally pulls back.

“You did?” One golden brow lifts, and he presses himself to me. “Me, too.”

I shake myself when I feel him hardening. “I noticed.”

His grin is totally unrepentant.

“Wanna catch a movie?” I smile up at him. “And some dinner?”

“Or I could catch you and eat you for dinner. He waggles his brows.

“Sounds…”

“…good?” he suggests.

“I was gonna say…” I trail off as two people enter the coffee shop, both vaguely familiar. I frown and move around Rafe to see better. “What the hell?”

“What is it? Is there a problem?” Rafe’s fists clench, jaw set. Ready to fight for me, like always.

“I know them. I know…” I tilt my head to the side. “Raylin?”

“Your roommate? The bitch who vanished and left you her cat and the rent to pay?” Rafe’s eyes narrow and his voice is low and tight. “That the one?”

“It’s okay.” I pat this arm, the corded muscles straining under the skin. “I’ll talk to her.”

He follows me, a menacing six-foot tall shadow trailing after me.

It’s really her. Raylin. And yet she’s unlike the Raylin I knew. Her long hair is shiny, brushed up in a ponytail, her eyes sparkle. Her dark jeans and lacey blouse, her boots and her coat, they all scream new and expensive. She seems apprehensive, but also happy.

The tall, handsome man accompanying her puts a hand to the small of her back. His left arm is in a sling. Why do I think I’ve seen him before?

“Hey,” Raylin whispers, gaze flicking to Rafe behind me. She pales a little. “Megan.”

I’m angry with her. She left me during one of the worst times of my life. But I can’t help myself. I step forward and put my arms around her. Because my relief is greater than my anger.

“You’re all right,” I whisper on her shoulder. “God, I was so afraid something bad happened to you.”

“I left you a note,” she says, her voice choked.

“I know. But it wasn’t like you to run, and then Rafe found out you had a stalker and… I was worried.” I pull back. “So glad you came to see me.”

Rafe harrumphs.

“How’s Horatio?”

It takes me a moment to figure out what she’s talking about. “The kitty? He’s fine. His name’s Raf now.”

“Raf.” Her lips twist as if not sure whether to smile or not. “Oh God… I’m so sorry I left like that. I’m just…” She waves a hand, presses it to her mouth. “I was out of options. The Chinese mafia were after me, and if I stayed, you would’ve been caught in it.”

Jesus. I hear Rafe’s sudden intake of breath. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“What happened? Are they still after you?” His low raspy voice holds a hint of threat.

“No, they’re not.” She sniffs and nods at him. “Who are you anyway?”

“Rafe Vestri.” I lean into him. “My boyfriend. And who’s the hottie with you?”

The hottie in question snorts. God, his eyes are so blue. “Troy Jordan. Storm for friends.” He flicks her a quick smile. “Her boyfriend.”

He makes it sound like a question, so I’m not surprised when she nods as if in reply.

How odd. But also how touching, when he takes her hand and tangles her fingers together, then lifts it to lay a kiss her knuckles.

“Wait a minute…” A laugh escapes me, because nah, this can’t be true. No way. But he did say… “Troy Jordan? Jordan Enterprises? The guy mentioned on the news yesterday? They said… Oh my God!”

“I saw that, too,” Rafe mutters. “A secret organization in Baltimore. They offed your parents and your uncle. They were after you.”

He says nothing, just stares back at Rafe, shoulders tense.

“That’s over now, right?” I ask, worried again. “Culprits taken to prison and all that?”

“All over,” Raylin says, though her voice is soft. “Which is why we thought it’d be safe to visit you.”

“And you live now in Baltimore?”

“I live where he lives,” she whispers, and he smiles. “He saved me, protected me, made me believe. He’s everything to me.”

“That’s beautiful,” I say, because that’s just how I feel with Rafe.

Her boyfriend looks away, and strange thing is, his eyes seem bright with tears. He hauls her to him, tucking her to his side. “My girl.”

God, the way they look at each other, the way they cling to each other… Sometimes I can sense things, and this one rings loud and clear:

It looks like true love to me.