Nitro's Torment (Sydney Storm MC 2)

It struck me how odd the conversation was after we ended the call. Hyde never told anyone he owed them.

* * *

Devil and I arrived at the drop-off point dead on time. We’d attempted to be early, but traffic had dictated otherwise. We backed the van into the driveway as were our instructions and sat with it idling while we waited for the signal to reverse into the garage.

Billy used a house in Alexandria for this. The street was narrow with high fences all the way down it. Trees and flowers everywhere gave an impression of a friendly neighbourhood, but I always wondered what people did behind closed doors. Most people I knew had shit to hide.

Two bangs on the back of the van signalled it was time to reverse. Devil eased the van backwards and the automatic garage door closed at the same time as bright lights illuminated the space. I jumped out and took in the length of the garage. It wasn’t your standard suburban fit out. By my estimation, another two vans could fit there.

Heels clicking across the cement floor and the jangle of bangles drew my attention. I looked around to find Tatum walking our way. Jesus, could she get any sexier? I adjusted my pants as my gaze travelled the length of her. She wore the tightest fucking jeans known to man and a white tank top with a skull and wing design on it that sat perfectly across her tits and revealed her toned arms inked with those tattoos I could spend hours investigating. I’d checked out her ink briefly when she’d been holed up at the clubhouse, and the designs were so intricate and full of such detail that I knew the more you looked, the more you’d find. I wanted to know what she’d chosen to mark her skin with for life.

“Tatum,” I greeted her, planting my feet wide and crossing my arms over my chest.

If she was surprised to see me, she hid it well. Instead, she nodded and said, “Nitro.” And then shifting her attention to my left, she said, “Devil.”

“Billy’s not joining us today?” Devil enquired.

Shaking her head, Tatum said, “No, he’s been called away and asked me to take care of this delivery.” She motioned for one of the men who flanked her to open the boxes on the wood pallet in front of us.

Devil and I inspected the shipment and once we were satisfied with it handed payment to Tatum. After we loaded the guns into the van, Devil lifted his chin at her. “Good doing business with you, Tatum. It’s a sweet change from seeing Billy’s ugly mug.” With a wink, he headed to the passenger side and waited in the van for me.

Tatum’s eyes met mine. It’d been three weeks since I dropped her at her home and told her to stay safe. It hadn’t been three weeks since I’d seen her, though. Dustin might not have stopped talking about her, but I hadn’t stopped watching her. Not every day, but a couple of times a week at least. I needed to make sure she was okay. That Silver Hell hadn’t broken our truce. That was what I’d told myself to begin with, anyway. I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. No smile, though. “Yeah.”

The pull to her was intense. I’d felt it every time I watched her. Pure animal need pulsed through my veins when I caught a glimpse of her and it did my head in. The fact I had never experienced that with another woman told me she was dangerous. So I checked on her, but that was all I did.

Devil banged on the side of the van, reminding me to stop fucking around. Tatum took a step back. Her expression still blank, her thoughts a mystery. No more words were exchanged and a minute later, I exited the garage.

“Billy should send Tatum to do every delivery,” Devil said. “A woman who knows how to execute a transaction with no emotions and no problems. She might just be my perfect fucking woman.”

My gut twisted at the thought of Devil pursuing Tatum and I gripped the steering wheel hard.

When he continued to describe the ways she was perfect, I scowled. “Can we talk about something fucking useful?”

He raised a brow and smirked. “I see the blonde has you wound tight, brother. You tap that?”

My irritation o

nly grew. “No, I didn’t fucking tap that.”

His smirk disappeared. “I’m thinking you need to. Because I’ve gotta tell you, you’ve been a bundle of fucking joy to be around since we called the truce. I’m not blind, Nitro. I saw the way you were with her and any fucker could see your dick was straining to get in her pants. So take care of business and get your shit together because we need your fucking attention on the club right now, not on some chick.”

I smashed my hand down on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

Fuck it all to hell.

He was right.

22

Tatum

“Kill The Lights” by Luke Bryan

I held the glass to my mouth, eyeing the blackjack dealer over the rim. Adrenaline spiked in my veins and my heart beat faster as I contemplated winning this hand. I’d been counting the cards and by my calculation I would win this hand. Throwing some rum back, I indicated to him that I would stand. I then drummed my fingers on the table as each player finished their hand. Holding my breath, I watched in anticipation as the dealer completed his, a thrill shooting straight through me when he busted.