Nitro's Torment (Sydney Storm MC 2)

Nitro stared at me, his body stiffening as a look of complete bewilderment settled on his face. In amongst all the thoughts flying at me, I wondered if he’d ever seen a woman cry before because it sure as hell looked like he had no idea how to handle me.

And then he did something that took me by complete surprise. He moved close, put his arms around me and enveloped me in a hug. It was an awkward hug, but one nonethe

less.

I rested my head against his chest. I was tired. So damn tired. Closing my eyes, I cried my exhaustion out. Nitro’s arms remained around me, like a reassuring blanket keeping me warm when all I felt was freezing cold.

I didn’t move when I stopped crying. I didn’t want to. And Nitro didn’t force me to. Instead, he said, “Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep.” With one arm still around my shoulder and my body pulled into his, he led me out of the bar. It didn’t escape my attention that while he held me firm, he did his best not to hurt my injuries.

His room was small. It contained a double bed, wardrobe, and chair, as well as a tiny bathroom. Totally like his house—minimal furniture, no personal items to be seen. Renee slept on the bed, and there was an inflatable double mattress on the floor.

Letting me go, he jerked his chin at the bed. “You sleep next to Renee.”

I looked up at him. “Where’s Dustin sleeping?”

“He’s in another room.”

I nodded. “Okay.” Moving to the empty side of the bed, I removed my boots and jeans before sliding under the sheets.

Nitro watched me and once I was settled, he left the room. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim me. The long day full of drama and the alcohol I’d consumed made sure of that.

* * *

“Mum!”

Where was she?

I ran to her bedroom to find her.

She wasn’t there.

I searched the whole house.

She was nowhere.

Tears fell down my cheeks as my body crumpled against the wall.

My heart raced in my chest.

She was always home. She never left us alone after school.

Chris entered the room, and I knew from his face and the way his shoulders hunched over a little that he didn’t have anything good to tell me.

“Mum’s gone,” he said, waving a piece of paper in the air, his eyes sad. “And she’s never coming back.”

My dream slammed into my consciousness and I sat up straight in bed, pain from my ribs spreading through my body like ripples across water. Sweat coated my forehead. My hair stuck to my neck in a clammy mess. Tears wet my cheeks.

“Oh, God.” I dry-heaved as I shoved the blankets off and stumbled into the bathroom. This dream always made me feel sick, and the alcohol in my system only made it worse.

Leaning over the toilet, I vomited.

More pain ricocheted through me.

I vomited again.

Another round of pain gripped my body. I thought for sure my ribs would snap from the violent shudders as I threw up.

Please make this stop.