Nitro's Torment (Sydney Storm MC 2)

The chick behind the bar had kept the drinks coming all night and she didn’t let me down. Swiping the glass, she said, “The same?”

I nodded before glancing back at Renee who frowned at me.

“I’m going to bed,” she said. “Don’t drink too much more. You really have had enough.”

“You’re a sweet kid, Renee. Nitro’s lucky to have you in his life.”

Watching her walk away, I couldn’t help but think about my brother. Chris used to look after me in the same way Renee appeared to care for Nitro. I missed him so much it physically hurt. Monroe loved me hard, but it would never be the same as a twin’s love. That kind of love came from a place I couldn’t even begin to describe. Without having to think, we just knew how the other was feeling; we knew when the other needed us; we felt pain and hurt and all the emotions of each other on a bone-deep level. Knowing I’d never have that again had almost killed me. I’d wanted to die when Chris died.

“Tatum.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as Nitro’s voice washed over me. When I opened them again, I found him sitting on the stool next to me. “I’m not in the mood,” I said, weariness kicking in. I really wasn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was go another round with him.

“Not in the mood for what?”

I drank some of the rum that had been placed in front of me before saying, “For your bullshit.”

He didn’t respond straight away, but I did note the vein that pulsed in his temple. I drank some more rum and waited for him to speak. Finally, he said, “Renee told me you’ve been drinking all night.”

Frustration with him consumed me and I swivelled on my stool to fully face him. Ignoring the pain that shot through me as I did that, I snapped, “Am I not allowed to drink while being held hostage?”

That vein ticked again.

“You can drink as much as you want.”

“So why are you here then?”

He stared at me in silence for a long moment. Then, raking his fingers through his hair, he said, “If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m not a mind reader.”

I drained my glass of rum and leaned closer to him, wobbling on the stool from all the alcohol I’d consumed. “Billy has always had my back and was one of the people who dragged me from hell after my brother was murdered. You might not get on with him, but I do, and I refuse to talk to you about him anymore, so if you’ve come here to ask me more about him, you can leave now.” The words rushed out and I was almost breathless by the time I got them all out. I gripped my empty glass hard as I acknowledged the tension I felt in his presence. I’d never had this kind of feeling around a man before. It was putting me off my game, causing my mind to short circuit.

He curled his hand around my wrist. “Anyone ever tell you how fucking sexy you are when you get all passionate about something?”

My gaze dropped to his hand. His touch fucked with my ability to concentrate even more than his presence already had. My lower belly was in a state of what-the-fuck-are-you-doing? My skin was in a state of holy-fucking-hell-let-him-touch-every-part-of-you and my vagina had pulled out the fucking welcome mat.

“Vegas,” he growled, and my eyes immediately shot back up to meet his.

“I don’t know why you insist on calling me that,” I muttered. Nicknames were for people you liked. I didn’t want him calling me that. We had no relationship other than the one where he made sure I survived and then we never saw each other again. I could ignore my desire for him if we could just get to the part where we went our separate ways.

“And I don’t know why you always argue about shit.”

“Because you make me!” I blurted it out and instantly regretted the outburst. It was so unlike me, and that right there was what Nitro did to me—he made me forget who I was now and what I needed to do to get through my days. He caused my mask to fall.

“How the hell do I make you argue with me?”

I snatched my arm from his hold and moved off the stool. Picking up my bag, I said, “I don’t know, you just do.”

He slid off his stool. “Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

“Yeah, where?”

It was then I remembered where I was and the fact I had no clue where I would sleep that night. As that realisation hit, I did something I never did. I burst into tears.

“Fuck,” I spluttered, madly wiping the tears from my face. Why the hell am I crying? I never fucking cry.

The harder I tried to stop crying, the harder I sobbed. It was all too much. The fact I was almost raped; Nitro and King dictating what I had to do; another club after me; a fucking bomb… it all overwhelmed me. And although I was damn good at not acknowledging when I felt like life was too hard, I struggled with that this time.