Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
STORM
“It’s getting late. What time have you got to pick Zeke up from the restaurant?” Mom asks.
I look down at my phone and see it’s midnight.
Knowing no restaurant will still be open this time of night, I yawn and rub my eyes.
“I think I’m just going to head back to the apartment and wait for him to call.
They’ve obviously gone out after.” I shrug.
Kissing my mom’s cheek, I get to my feet, but I catch her giving my dad a look. “What?” I ask.
Dad stands, his broad, powerful frame stopping before me. “I don’t like the idea of you driving so late when you are this tired, and I really don’t fucking like that he expects you to wait up for him,” he says sharply.
“I will drive her car. You can follow on your bike and ride us home,” Mom interjects.
I don’t contest the idea. My eyes are dry and exhausted, and I just want to curl up in bed. “Sure, if you don’t mind.” I shrug.
“It’s been a while since your father and I went on a midnight run,” she says with a slow smile spreading across her face. Dad’s eyes spark with lust.
“Eww, okay, enough.” I wave them off. “Dad, can I ride with you?” I ask with pleading eyes.
He grins, pulling me to him before he places a kiss on the top of my head. “You know I would never say no to you.”
“Twenty-four years of age, and she still has you wrapped around her little finger.” Mom tuts, a smirk on her face.
“Whatever my princess wants, she gets.” Dad nods in agreement, his arm draped over my shoulder as we head out. “Rage, keep an eye on everything while I take Storm home,” he orders.
Mom hands me my own helmet; black with a spray-painted Black Hearts MC patch on it.
All of us girls got one. I fasten it, with Dad having to double-check it, and hand Mom my keys.
She jumps in my car, quickly changing the stereo to one of her favourite songs before she lowers all the windows and turns the volume up.
Alice in Chains, Man in the Box, blares out as Mom sings along, speeding off, her hand waving out the window as she goes.
“Your mom is the craziest fucking bitch I know,” Dad mutters as he sits on his bike, starting her up.
“Dad! You can’t say that,” I chastise.
“Why the fuck not? She is, and it’s one of the many reasons why I love her. Never a dull fucking moment. If old age doesn’t kill me, your mom will. But at least I will die fucking happy.” He grins.
I climb on the back of his bike and wrap my arms around his waist. Resting my cheek on his back, I breathe in leather, oil, and musk.
I sigh, closing my eyes as he pulls off.
Some people take comfort in playing board games with their dad, or watching sports, but for me it’s being on the back of his bike.
The cool breeze caresses my face as the loud rumble of his engine and the freedom of the open road surrounds us.
He places his hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
He knows this is one of my favourite places to be.
I used to beg him when I was younger to go on runs with him, which I couldn’t, so I would cry, heartbroken.
Dad would always come back, whether he had been gone a day or three, and he would take me straight out on a ride.
He turns down our street, and I see Mom parked up casually, leaning against the car, the moonlight highlighting her silhouette.
She grins, taking a step forward when she spots us.
Dad comes to a stop, and I climb off, removing my helmet before I hand it to Mom to use. She takes it, kissing my cheek.
“Your lights are on, so I guess he made it home.” She nods up in the direction of the apartment. I look up and see the lights on.
“Oh,” I mutter, surprised and a little confused, wondering why he wouldn’t have rang or texted me. “Probably fallen asleep in front of the TV.” I shrug.
“You good?” Dad asks, his sharp ice gaze watching me.
I nod and give him my best reassuring smile. “All good. Go. I will call you in the week,” I state.
“Okay, baby,” Mom says softly as she climbs on the back of Dad’s bike, her hands gliding under his black T-shirt.
“Woman,” Dad warns.
“Casper,” she taunts.
“Okay, I’m not going to witness your foreplay. Go, and I will see you in the week.” I usher them while grabbing my bag out of my car before locking it. Dad grins before pulling off. I can’t help but smile and shake my head at them as I make my way up to the apartment.
Unlocking the door, I step in. The TV is on, but no sign of Zeke.
I place my bag and keys on the counter as I make my way through the apartment.
Frowning, I make my way towards our bedroom.
I’m about to call out for him when the bedroom door swings open, and Angela, another surgeon he works with, halts.
Her gaze briefly lands on mine before she looks away, pulling her open blouse together and scurrying past me.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and my stomach sinks as bile threatens to rise.
The front door slams shut behind me. I can’t look away from Zeke, standing in our room, shirtless, his pants pulled up but undone.
My eyes travel to the bed, the sheets now a crumpled mess.
I swallow, blinking, taking everything in before me. I look back to Zeke.
“It’s not what you think,” he starts, holding his hands up, like he’s surrendering.
Surrendering to what? I haven’t moved, and I haven’t said a word.
I don’t think I’ve even blinked. He takes a cautious step towards me, his eyes round with worry and guilt, drowning in guilt.
“We just drank too much. You know what it’s like.
Like you and Drix.” He runs his hands through his hair as he begins to pace.
I can see her nail marks down his back as he turns, and the bile that threatened to rise earlier rises up. I can’t hold it back. I turn on my heel and run into the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach down the toilet.
I eventually stop and sit to the side to catch my breath. Zeke hands me a damp cloth, and I snatch it and wipe my mouth. Breathing slowly, I look down, and my eyes land on the trash can and the two used condoms discarded there.
“Say something, please,” Zeke pleads.
At that moment, uncontrollable laughter bubbles up from within me. Zeke looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. My laughter turns hysterical, loud and unhinged, as tears stream down my cheeks, turning to sobs.
“Fuck,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath as I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Say something, please,” Zeke begs again.
I look up at him as anger, hurt, and devastation consume me.
“You’ve got drunk, and you’ve got angry.
” I pause, pushing to my feet, and as the reality sinks in, the rage starts pumping through my veins.
“You’ve pushed me, hit me!” I yell, pointing to my cheek.
“And now I come home to you fucking Angela!” I fume, stepping towards him.
Red hot tears stream from my cheeks, but not from the hurt and the pain he has caused me.
No. Now it’s angry tears; angry that I defended him to my family, that I lied to them for him, and now this. This is how he repays me?!
“How you are feeling right now, that is how I felt seeing you with Drix,” he throws back at me.
I laugh and throw my hands up. “Oh my god,” I sigh. “This is not the same thing, and you know it!” I yell. “Move out of my way. I’m leaving,” I demand, not wanting to waste another breath on him.
“No,” he refuses.
“No?” I counter, arching my brow at him.
“No. You’re upset, I get that, and I am sorry, but we will figure this out,” he says with desperation in his voice.
I stand toe to toe with him, my furious gaze searing into him.
“Move and let me go now,” I warn, my voice low and threatening.
I had let too much slide, I had been too soft, and I had let him get away with what he had already done.
For fear of what my family would to him, but now I don’t care.
Now I want to see him suffer. I want him to hurt like he’s hurt me. I deserve better.
His eyes darken. “No. If I move, you will go running to your fucked up family and they will kill me, and if they don’t kill me, they will destroy my career. They will ruin my life for upsetting their precious little biker brat,” he sneers.
I blink, shocked at how his entire demeanour changed quicker than a light switch. What I thought was drink causing the change in his temper was just him. He just waited until I moved in to show it.
He closes the distance, just an inch from me, looking down on me. There’s a darkness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before as he looks down at me. I keep my back straight, not backing down. I don’t show fear. Instead, I show him just who he’s facing.
“I’m not just some girl. I’m the daughter of the President of the mother fucking Black Hearts MC,” I sneer.
He huffs. “Right now you are on your own. With no way out and nowhere to go.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “I wasn’t done.
I’m the daughter of the President of the Black Hearts MC, but worse than that.
I’m my mother’s daughter.” As soon as the words have left my mouth, I swiftly bring my knee up, colliding right between his legs.
His eyes widen and a low groan vibrates from deep within his throat as he collapses to the ground.
I quickly step over him and head back into the bedroom, frantically looking for the knuckle dusters Mom had got me.
I pull open the draw where they should be, hunting through my clothes.
“Looking for these?” Zeke’s deep voice growls from behind me. I freeze and slowly turn. There on his hand is one of the knuckle dusters.
I open my mouth to shout, to argue, but he rears his fist back, slamming his iron-clad fist into my face.
My vision instantly blurs as I fall to a heap on the floor.
Slowly blinking, my face feeling like it’s been split in two, I will myself to stay focused, to stay conscious.
As I try to push myself to crawl, trails of claret coat the cream carpet.
I whimper as I slowly, ever so fucking slowly, make my way to the door.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?
” he spits, slamming his foot down on my back, causing a winded groan to escape me.
I curl into a ball as he slams his foot down on me again and again.
“You forced this from me! You pushed and pushed this! Fucking slut. Fucking hillbilly scum!” he roars, each word dripping with malice.
I keep my gaze fixed on the door until the final blow comes, drowning me in darkness.