Chapter 12
TWELVE
STORM
O ne minute I’m watching Shae through the telescope from my position across the street, and the next I’m jamming my gun to that fucker Zane Gibson’s head while choking him out.
“S-Storm? What are you doing here?” Shae’s voice is like a song in my ears, and if I close my eyes and listen closely, I can hear what I’m sure is an edge of want in her tone.
Or maybe that’s just me being delulu as fuck.
“I was coming to check on you,” I say, sort of a lie, sort of not. “And I saw this asshole rubbing up on you as I came to the door. Didn’t look like you wanted it. Do you want it?”
My voice turns to steel on that last part, daring her to lie to my face.
I watched her knee him in the balls and tracked the way she clutched her piece in her pants pocket.
Thank God for technology.
“I’m fine, Storm,” she bites out. “I have it handled.”
I smile. “You’re not really answering the question, Sweetness.”
“Don’t call me that!” she snaps. “Let him go, you psycho! Zane, let’s cool off. I’ll see you later so we can get back to business as usual. Okay?”
Zane’s face is a sickly red-purple, and his eyes are so wide he looks like the zombie version of Michael Jackson in the “Thriller” music video.
I release my hold around his neck and remove my gun from his head…but not before pressing the barrel hard into his flesh to make a point.
The point being that I will not hesitate to blow this dickhead’s brains to bits.
“Fine,” Zane snaps, stumbling into the hallway.
I wait with my back pressed to the doorjamb and ankles crossed as I watch him march to the elevator and slide into the waiting car.
Before the doors slide closed, he gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a menacing look.
I return the expression with a smile and light wave.
“You can go, too,” Shae says, but I don’t look at her when she speaks. Instead, I count to ten.
I know Shae has been with other people. But knowing that in my brain and seeing proof of her lovers, having one kiss her, is another thing.
Does it make me a hypocrite? Maybe. I haven’t been a monk since our separation either. And yet, does understanding this mean I don’t want to make Zane disappear and fuck Shae against this wall until her brain and her body remember no one else but me?
“Um, hello ,” Shae shouts, and I grin, my mouth lifting at one corner.
“Really, Shae? That nigga?” I say, moving lazily from the threshold and into the foyer. I shut the door and lock the top.
Shae releases a puff of air, and I search the part of the condo I can’t see from my place across the street.
“Why are you here? How do you know where I live? Why the fuck aren’t you leaving?
” Shae throws all the questions at me as I walk toward the main living area.
The space is clean and cold. There isn’t much personality here, except for the pictures on the wall.
I take a step closer to see them clearly, but Shae slides in front of me and pushes me back.
“I didn’t say you could come in here,” she hisses, and I take big steps backward until I’m back in the foyer.
“You’re really not about answering my questions, are you, Shae?” I reply, trying to keep my tone light and not hiss at the feeling of her small palm against my chest.
She sucks her teeth.
“Well, ditto, asshole! Plus, I don’t owe you any explanations about my life, Storm,” she says, her patience clearly wearing thin.
I tilt my head from side to side.
“Whatever you say, Sweetness. I just know you can do better than that. He was about to shit a brick?—”
I stop speaking when Shae backs me up against the door, and there’s the unmistakable press of a gun barrel to the underside of my jaw.
“I told you,” she mutters, “not to fucking call me that.”
This close to me, Shae’s familiar yet new scent wraps around me, and I almost forget she has a gun positioned to blow my brains out. I look into her eyes, and I see so much fury there.
But there’s something else present, too.
There’s clear hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, adding my heart into the words. “I won’t do it again.”
She holds the firearm to my skin for another few heartbeats before taking a step back and dropping the gun back into her pocket. She runs a shaky hand over her hair.
“Why are you here, Storm?” That’s a great question, and she sounds so fucking tired.
What can I say that won’t make me sound like a stalker or a psycho?
I shift in place before saying, “I’m here because I thought you might have more questions now that you’ve calmed down.”
Her mouth moves like she’s chewing the inside of her cheek, but then she crosses her arms and says, “Calmed down? Whatever, Storm.”
“Yes, or do you now hit people when you’re calm?” I grin at her, enjoying the hell out of this back and forth for the simple fact that I’m talking to her and we’re alone.
Her eyes narrow as she grips her Ruger, and before she can make a move, I say, “This will go a lot better if you put your piece away.”
She scowls, sputtering.
“You first,” she barks, and I lift an eyebrow. Holding my arm straight out to the side, I place my Glock on the side table in reach. Then, because I like torturing her and myself, I lift the bottom of my shirt, revealing a few inches of skin on my abs.
Shae’s eyes go wide, and she releases a choked, “What are you?—”
But I continue lifting, turning around so she gets a full three-sixty of my body. When I face her again, I lift the hem of my slacks, showing her my ankles and that I came with only one gun.
Which is very unusual, but a nigga was in a rush.
“Okay, okay, stop your striptease,” she snips, and I resist the broad smile creeping across my face.
Shae stomps toward the hall closet and steps inside. Mechanical beeping and then the sound of a lock being disengaged precedes the faint thunk of what I know to be her gun being put back in the safe.
“Now,” Shae says, closing the closet door and leaning against it with her arms crossed, mirroring my stance as she faces me. “Tell me what the fuck you want. Besides pissing me off.”
Goddamn, how I love this new fiery side of her.
“I’m not trying to piss you off, Shae. I just wanna know what you’re thinking about Keystone. You’re gonna drop the deal, right?” I shift, leaning even more onto the wall.
She makes a low, growling noise.
“That’s what you’re here for, yeah? Keystone, Keystone, Keystone,” she says, her voice a rasp.
“What else do you want me to be here for?” I ask, taking a step closer to her.
She takes an equidistant step to the side, making a dark sound in her throat.
“I don’t want you here at all, Storm.”
“That’s a lie,” I shoot back. “Shae, you’re smart and resourceful. Don’t be stupid. Get out of the Keystone deal before it’s too late.” I open my hands, pleading with her and trying to make my tone as serious as I can. But she doesn’t latch on to that part.
“Stupid?” she bites out calmly. “You think I’m being stupid , Storm?”
Fuck.
“No, I’m saying don’t be stupid. Dealing with Keystone is a stupid decision.”
“Or it’s a decision that’s contrary to whatever selfish reasons you have for wanting me to back down.”
Anger and frustration make my face hot.
“Goddamn it, Shae?—”
“And fuck you , Storm Sandoval!” she shouts, and right now, she looks wild. Her eyes wide, her jaw trembling along with her clenched fists. She’s heated, pissed, and I’ve driven her to this point.
Then, before her rage can overtake her senses, she sucks in a slow breath as if breathing through a straw, holds it, then releases the air.
“I’m not stopping it. I’m gonna…” She seems to search for her next words. “I’m gonna buy Keystone and fix it.”
She infuses her tone with calm, punctuating her words with a nod.
“Thank you for your advice, but it’s unwarranted. Especially coming from you,” she finishes.
I gape at her.
“What the hell? Explain how you think you’ll make that work,” I reply, because I need complete knowledge of whatever screwed up plan she’s got in her head to play Xena Warrior Princess, because over my dead body.
“The plan is: I buy Keystone because one, if I don’t buy it, someone worse will. Two, I have a shit-ton of money wrapped up in this deal, like, most of my business. And three, and yes, most importantly, I can’t stand by and let such evil things happen. Not if I can do something to stop it.”
She glares at me, her jaw tight with defiance, but that fire in her eyes? They hold the same spark I saw back when we weren’t enemies.
“It’s a nice idea, Sw—Shae,” I say, correcting myself even though I don’t want to. She scowls at the ceiling like it might save her. “But here’s the problem. You aren’t one to play dirty, and the only way to get out of the underworld is through the underworld.”
She gives me a look as dry as the Sahara.
“What do you mean, ‘I’m not one to play dirty?’ A reminder: you don’t know who I am, Storm Sandoval.”
I hum, narrowing my eyes at her. There’s no way I couldn’t know Shae if I tried.
“Okay, Ms. River North, Ms. I’m-a-PK. Even if I didn’t know you, I do know you don’t possess the connections or spiritual ability to be nefarious, and that’s the only way you’re going to be able to move this shit off you and stop anything —at least, without alerting the SEC, FTC, FBI, and fuck knows what other alphabet agencies.
But they’ll just throw your Black ass under the prison, so…
” I throw my hands in the air in a shrug.
“Okay, so what is it you want to do now?” she asks on a gravelly sigh. Her shoulders drop, and she seems so much smaller than her already short stature.
“What do I want to do?” I can’t help the grin that comes to my face, and she scowls even harder.
“About Keystone ,” she presses. “If I step back, what will you do?”
I look her up and down, drinking her in.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
Her shoulders go up, and she folds her arms tighter across her chest.
“I’m just trying to protect you,” I add.