XIV
STORM
N othing was going according to my plans.
Not only did Micah have the upper hand, but he also quite literally took care of me in every possible way.
Bathing me? Check.
Cooking me three meals a day and different snacks? Check.
Carrying me around the house so my legs wouldn’t get tired? Check.
Barely letting me lift a finger? Check.
But at times, it was too much. At some point, he even stopped carrying me downstairs to the dining room. Instead, he brought the meals to me, preventing me from leaving the bed unless I needed to use the restroom.
And it was slowly driving me insane.
I was barely moving around, and as great as it was to be spoiled, it was also getting boring — annoying, even.
This house was too stunning.
It wasn’t too big, but big enough to fit at least four people. Everything inside was perfectly organized and executed. It was clear that it was a work of someone who knew interior design well.
However, that was as far as my exploring adventure had gone.
Unless he was cooking for me or cleaning up after me, Micah often made hushed phone calls away from me. Other than that, he was by my side at all times. I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t appreciate being left out.
True to his words, I scrolled through social media and watched the news. There wasn’t a single thing about me. Morrison truly didn’t report my disappearance and that only worked in our favor.
That man kept me up at night.
Something was terribly wrong with me.
Not once did I feel regret for brutally taking his life. I emptied an entire clip into his body, and a few bullets before he died. Technically, that was a form of torture.
I tortured a man and it didn’t affect me at all.
Regret, guilt, and sorrow were a fleeting thought, so much that it felt like they weren’t in my vocabulary. I was only scared that we were going to get caught. Once a couple of days had passed and we were still safely in the house, that fear slowly started vanishing, barely leaving a trace behind.
Nothing.
I felt absolutely nothing, and it terrified me to the point of the blood in my veins freezing.
It wasn’t normal to be that neutral and emotionless when it came to death.
When I killed the police officer over three years ago, in that moment, I was consumed by immense amount of rage. My blood was boiling and there wasn’t anything that could’ve stopped me. Yet I did it subconsciously.
By the time I’d realized the words left my mouth and I had covered his head with the pillow, he was long dead. It was all rage, and it wasn’t something I’d planned on doing. Terrible, yes, but also in the spur of the moment.
However, the moment I saw Micah’s arm bleeding and him clutching the wound, I knew that I was killing Kyle Morrison that night.
The few bullets that I fired at him before killing him in cold blood were a test, to see if I was truly capable of taking another life — this time intentionally.
And I was more than prepared and capable.
Although it was sloppy, it was done.
It had to be done.
I wanted it to be done by me.
Micah’s reaction only made the drive for killing stronger. His eyes were filled with subtle pride, as if he didn’t want me to see it. I saw it perfectly. Once Morrison was dead, Micah was happy.
I made him happy, and I didn’t want to stop feeling like that.
Like something inside of my heart was finally snapping back into its place. I’d been waiting for something like that for too long and it happened as soon as Micah and I came together again.
The cover story Micah came up with was simple but that was exactly what we needed.
“Are you listening?” Sierra’s voice broke my train of thought, and I returned my eyes to the screen in front of me. Alongside a new phone and number, he also bought me a laptop and an iPad to use for my writing.
The man was getting a lot of money killing people.
It piqued my interest, to say the least.
“Yes, sorry,’’ I yawned, cracking my back as I straightened my posture. “You were saying?”
Instead of following Kyle Morrison to New York, I used the opportunity to take time off work and go to New Orleans to meet with my secret boyfriend. A few months back, I had a signing there and a cute guy was hitting on me, so I used his face and name as a cover-up.
I lied to Sierra because I wanted to keep the relationship a secret until I figured out whether it was going to last. Sierra bought it immediately, grinning from ear to ear. She asked for details, and I lied with ease.
The first thing that popped into my head was the thing I told her.
Micah was pissed about it. At the mere mention of that man, he broke a glass or two downstairs. He said it was an accident, but how many glasses could a person accidentally break in one day?
Not fourteen, that was for sure.
And besides, this was his idea. He was the one who mentioned the guy, as I’d already forgotten about him long ago. Getting irritated and jealous for a plan he suggested in the first place was insane.
“As I was saying…’’ Sierra gave me a pointed look. “I need to know when you’ll be back.’’
“Why? Is anything important happening?”
“Halloween celebrations have started, so I found us a few parties to attend. I’ll send you the details later.’’
I winced visibly. “Parties? No, thank you. I’ll skip.’’
Sierra frowned. “You skipped last year, too. I’ve found some good ones.’’
“I’m over partying at this point,’’ I explained. We were nearing our thirtieth birthday, and although I wasn’t opposed to going out from time to time, as of late, I found myself enjoying a quiet night with a glass of wine and a good movie.
Sierra looked like I just killed her puppy, so I had to fix that awful look of pure despair on her face. “I’m not going to say no to a costume party, though. So find one, and I’ll see if I can make it.’’
Her eyes brightened before she quickly hung up the phone, promising that she was going to find us a great party.
“You’re finally free,’’ Micah scowled, strolling into the room with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He was wet from the shower, his hair messy. He was drying it with a towel, but my eyes were glued to the bulge in his pants.
That damned outline.
Those damned gray sweats.
My worst fucking enemy.
“You’re acting like she’s your arch nemesis.’’
“That’s because she is.’’ His scowl only deepened as he strolled further into the room. “You don’t talk to your family nearly as much as you talk to her. Sharing your attention is… less than appealing.’’
“Deal with it,’’ I said firmly. “She’s my best friend and she’s here to stay.’’
“Not for long,’’ he grumbled.
I blinked, searching for any signs of humor on his face. There weren’t any and that made my mouth drop open in pure shock.
“I don’t know what’s going on in that twisted head of yours, but you will not touch her.’’
He snorted. “Of course. Why would I when there are many people who could do it for me?”
“Micah, no.’’
He didn’t respond immediately and walked over to me. I stood up from the fluffy carpet and tried to look intimidating, but in comparison to his height, I was like a squirrel.
His hand came to my neck, and he pinned me against the wall, while using his free hand to hold both of mine, caging me between his body and the wall.
“Listen carefully, Bambi, because I will not repeat myself.’’ His mouth came dangerously close to mine and his entire body pressed into me. “Your attention should solely be directed toward me. I don’t do well with competition because I got rid of all of them. She won’t be an exception.’’
“She’s my friend and my personal assistant. I love her.’’
“And you should tone it down. Business is one, private is another. Start paying attention to me more and she’ll continue to breathe.’’
“You cannot be serious.’’
His hot breath hit my nose, the smell of nicotine and whiskey bringing out goosebumps. My entire body ached for his touch, deprived from all the insanity that he was able to give me.
“Behave and you won’t have to find out.’’
His lips an inch away from mine, his cock probed the lower part of my stomach. With each passing second, the atmosphere was more tense. His tight hold on my throat and the lust in his eyes made me insane.
He made me insane.
And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Micah brushed his soft, plump limps against me. His teasing made something twitch in the pit of my stomach. A look of defiance flashed behind the forest green eyes, promising a night filled with twisted desires and sadistic words.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Micah released my throat and cursed under his breath, but not before ensuring his hands didn’t leave a permanent mark. With a look of anger, he turned on his heel and started walking downstairs.
Still hot from the encounter, I cleared my throat and followed closely behind him.
The doorbell rang again.
“Please don’t tell me it’s the police.’’
“I wish,’’ he mumbled. “This one is far more annoying to deal with.’’
Micah swung the door open, and a young man brushed right past him.
He had white hair.
It wasn’t just bleached blonde. It was white, as in pearl white, as in one of the brightest hair colors I’d seen. It was memorable and it definitely suited him. His defined jaw, cute nose, and gray eyes that seemed to bore into me were pretty.
Then he smiled at me and revealed a tooth gem. His canines were sharp, and he decorated one with a diamond gem. Undoubtedly, it was a real diamond, worth only the Lord knew how much.
What a pretty boy.
“And if you so much as look at him again, he’ll be a pretty dead boy.’’
I slapped my hand over my mouth, realizing I’d voiced my thoughts. A laugh followed from the pretty boy, and it sounded angelic.
“You.’’ Micah pointed a finger in his direction. “Leave before I shoot you where you stand.’’
“Oh, come on,’’ the pretty boy responded with an eye roll. “How can you be so cruel? After everything we’ve been through?”
“What the fuck did we ever go through together?”
Pretty boy grinned devilishly. “That passionate night in the rain, just the two of us in the middle of nowhere.’’
Micah’s reaction mimicked mine — eyes widened, mouth down to the floor.
“Our car fucking broke down in the middle of nowhere. Stop spouting nonsense.’’
I laughed loudly, and the pretty boy’s attention was back on me.
He approached me and took my hand in his, kissing the back of it while giving me a small bow, a smirk on his face.
“Arlo De Santis, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’’
My cheeks flushed.
This boy was so damn adorable.
“Storm.’’
He grinned. “I know. I’m a big fan.’’
So this was the person Micah told me about.
Arlo’s mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but Micah grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and quite literally flung him across the room like a rag doll. For the millionth time in the past two minutes, my mouth parted in shock.
“Stay the fuck away from her and stop looking at her.’’
Arlo laughed and rose back to his feet, fixing his jacket and dusting his knees off.
“That’s cruel.’’ He feigned hurt. “How many people get to meet their favorite author and help them cover up for a murder?”
“No one.’’
“Exactly.’’
Micah sighed, already over this situation.
I walked over to him and hugged him from the side. His muscles immediately relaxed under my touch, and he looked at me suspiciously.
Arlo De Santis was one of the most adorable young men I’d seen in quite a while. But that was all he was — adorable. He wasn’t my type, and he was too young for me anyway.
Besides, I only had eyes for one insane murderer. How the hell was I supposed to deal with another one?
Micah returned the hug, and pulled me in his chest, holding my head firmly pressed against him, preventing me from conversing with Arlo any further.
“What the fuck do you want? I told you to come tomorrow.’’
“There’s something important we must do, and it can’t wait until tomorrow.’’