Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
STORM
I sit in my truck, waiting for Zeke, my stomach swirling with unease.
“Get a grip.” I mutter to myself. This isn’t me.
I am the type of person that doesn’t care what people think.
I am not afraid of anything. I will stand toe to toe with my dad, and with my uncles.
I was brought up to always speak my mind, to never fear a man, and never change who I am for anyone.
However, right now, my palms are clammy and I feel nauseous.
I am scared for Zeke to meet my parents. For them to accept him and love him.
My door opens, and I jump, a high-pitched yelp springing from my throat as I clutch my chest. “What’s got you so jumpy?” Zeke asks, a smile playing on his lips.
I let out a breathy laugh. “I was just stuck in my head.” I shrug.
Zeke leans in, his hand clasping the back of my neck firmly, before he presses his mouth to mine. I relax instantly, melting into him. He breaks the kiss, resting his temple on mine.
“Better?” he breathes.
“Better,” I repeat. “You sure you are ready for this?” I ask, “You can break it off with me now, and I would completely understand. My family are intense. This will be intense,” I ramble.
“Sweetheart, don’t worry. I can hold my own.
Your family just want to make sure I can take care of you.
Now, let’s get going because I’m starving.
” He presses his lips to my temple before stepping back and shutting my door.
I look in my rearview mirror and watch him climb into his two-seater sports car.
I inwardly cringe, knowing the shit my dad and his friends will give him for driving that car.
He flashes his lights, and I pull off, praying for a twenty-car pile-up with no injuries, but just enough to close the freeway.
As the club comes into view, I realise there is no turning back now.
I drive past the line of bikes, seeing the club’s patch above the entrance.
Well, now he knows what club my family is a part of.
I put my truck in park as Zeke pulls in beside me.
I look across at him, but his eyes are fixed on the patch above the door.
I sigh, bracing myself for the break-up. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.
I climb down from my truck and wait for Zeke. He eventually gets out. He doesn’t look scared, but he does look pissed. “You failed to mention that your family are the biggest fucking crime gang in this town. Hell, in three towns, at least,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
I frown. “They are not criminals.” Well, not the bad kind, anyway. “They have a reputation, yes, but they are good and decent people. This is a club, a family. You can’t accept them, then you can’t accept me,” I snap back, my temper and defensiveness rising within me.
He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose before he looks down at me, his eyes softening slightly. “I’m sorry. It was a shock, is all, but you must know being a member of this family hinders your career,” he points out.
“I love my job, and I love my family. I’ve never had an issue,” I counter.
“Yeah, well, if I were to make it to Chief of Surgery one day, being associated with your family will hinder those chances.” He pauses.
“But that’s okay, because that won’t be for a few years, and once you’re living with me, no one will know.
” He sighs with relief at his apparent fixing of the issue.
He takes his hand in mine and leads us inside before I can process what he said, or what he means by it.
The sound of talking and laughter rings out, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. Home. I’ve always loved the loudness, the chaos of it. All of it is full of love and protectiveness that you just can’t get anywhere else.
Mom walks towards us, a warm smile on her face as she holds out her arms, pulling me into a tight hug.
“My baby,” she coos, kissing me firmly on the cheek.
“I can’t believe you kept this secret from me and your dad,” she whisper-hisses in my ear, letting me know just how pissed off she is.
Her eyes flicker to Zeke, who is looking at her with a slightly stunned expression.
I roll my eyes, used to this reaction. My mom is beautiful, stunning.
Even now in her late fifties. She looks late thirties, though.
Her black ripped jeans hug her curves, and the plain black tank she wears with it is tucked into her jeans, showing off her ample breasts.
Her dark, nearly black hair falls in loose waves, and tattoos cover most of her arms. My mom is cool; she was badass, and I adored her. Even when we fight like cats and dogs.
She looks Zeke up and down, assessing him. He’s lean, muscled, clean and good-looking. Not a tattoo in sight. He has ‘the boy next door’ vibe about him.
He clears his throat. “Er, sorry. It nice to meet you, ma’am,” Zeke says, holding out his hand, his voice shaking slightly. Is he nervous of my mom?
She bats his hand away and pulls him into a hug. “Don’t call me ma’am. It makes me sound like an old lady. It’s Star,” she says, patting his back before pulling away. “Your dad is in his office. He will be out in a minute,” she says to me. “Zeke, what can I get you to drink?” she asks calmly.
“Er, just a water, please. I’m driving,” he answers.
I don’t miss how my mom’s lip curls slightly at his response. “Sure.” She turns and clicks her fingers, and the prospect—or should I say new prospects—come scurrying over.
“Rusty, get Zeke here a nice cold glass of water,” she orders the ginger-haired prospect. “Pirate, get my daughter a beer,” she orders the prospect with an eye patch.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to call them names like that,” Zeke stated.
My mom arched one of her perfect brows at him, her hands going to her hips. “This isn’t a workplace. This is a family, and we call each other whatever the hell we want. If they didn’t like their road names, then they can bring it up with their president,” Mom snaps.
Zeke gives her a sheepish nod. “I apologise,” he murmurs.
“Now, come on through. We are cooking up a storm outside.” I catch Ripley and Raine in the corner, and I give them an enthusiastic wave. Both of them point to Zeke and mime that he’s hot. I laugh, giving them a wide example with my hands, mouthing the words huge at them.
They both double over laughing. Zeke looks at me, and I give him an innocent look.
I mean, Zeke is just above average. No complaints from me.
As we walk through the side doors to the outside area where the BBQ and fire pit are, Maisy comes over, grinning at me excitedly. I pull her into a tight hug.
“You ready for this?” she whispers.
“No,” I answer honestly.
“Your dad hasn’t come out of his office since he was told,” she warns me. I give her an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look. “Good luck.” She pats me on the back.
I turn and come face to face with Rage. Oh god, this could go very badly, very quickly. He just stands there, glaring at Zeke. “Err, Zeke, this is Rage. Rage, this is Zeke, my boyfriend, and who I am moving in with,” I introduce.
Rage just blinks. “You have an unusual nose.”
“Ah, okay Rage, you aren’t collecting right now,” Mom rushes out, reminding him.
His gaze flickers to Mom, instantly softening.
My mom has always had a way with calming Rage.
There were times he would take us to school, and the other parents would look at him in pure fear.
Kids would be told to stay away from us, None of us cared.
We had each other, and no one dared to mess with us, for the fear of the repercussions.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Zeke replies, his voice wobbling with fear.
Rage merely looks at him, his brows furrowed, like he’s an alien. “Not sir. Rage. You’re a doctor?” Rage asks.
Zeke grins proudly. “Yes, I am. A surgeon.”
Rage curls his lip in disgust. “I don’t like doctors,” he spits, taking a step closer to Zeke, towering over him.
I swear I feel his hand tremble in mine.
I give him a reassuring squeeze. “But you cut people.” His eyes alight.
“What tools do you use? Do you have that crank thingy, for the chest? So you can access the heart? What’s the rarest thing you’ve removed from a body?
Is there a freezer where you keep the parts you remove?
Tumours, have you ever removed any that have hair and teeth on them? ”
“Okay, okay.” Mom guides Rage to the side, giving Zeke space.
His eyes are wide, stunned. Mom lets off an awkward laugh.
“He’s such a joker. He’s just fascinated with the human body.
It’s, er, a hobby of his.” She smiles with a slight grimace, giving Dixie a glare to come get your man before he ends up sectioned.
Dixie comes running over. “Rage, come on. Leave Storm’s friend alone. He doesn’t want to hear about your erection.” Dixie looks over her shoulder, mouthing sorry at us.
Mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fuck me,” she sighs before forcing a smile on her face.
“She has a speech impediment. Come meet the rest of the family.” She wraps her arm around Zeke’s shoulder and guides him towards everyone.
Zeke drops my hand as Mom looks at me over her shoulder, giving me her lethal glare.
“Storm, go check on your father.” It’s not a suggestion.
It’s a ‘you may be an adult, but I can still whoop your ass’ comment.
I sigh and salute her before turning on my heel to find Dad.
It’s laughable, really. Our parents are known for their violence, but neither of them has ever raised a hand to either of us.
They never needed to. They only needed to give us a look, and we would behave.
Well, Enzo likes to push the boundaries most of the time.
If I told him he was upsetting Mom, then he would stop.