King's Wrath (Sydney Storm MC 5)

My eyes cut to him. He sat opposite me on the couches in the middle of the clubhouse bar. He’d had a long day and he was fucking wasted. Lifting my beer to my mouth, I tipped it back and took a long slug. I then said, “You’d be lucky to get your dick hard enough to show her a good time, brother. But be my guest.” It wasn’t like we had a shortage of whores to choose from.

He frowned as he leant forward. “You got a piece on the side, King? It’s not like you to share like that.”

I scowled at him. “You want her, go fucking get her now, otherwise she’s off the table,” I barked.

He didn’t hesitate another second, leaving me alone. Fucking finally. I rubbed my neck as I tried to relax. Trouble was, I was hard as fucking rock. Had been for months. Usually, sex eased my tension, but even that wasn’t working lately.

Fuck.

I pushed up out of the couch and left the bar to head into my office. Being Christmas night, it was quiet at the clubhouse. Even at just after nine p.m. The few members around were either drunk or busy with pussy, which suited me because I craved some peace and fucking quiet after the rowdy day I’d been subjected to.

I found what I was looking for in the office fast, grabbed my shit and headed out to my bike. It was time Kree Stone and I had a talk.

* * *

***

* * *

“King,” Kree said breathlessly after she opened her front door to me.

My eyes dropped briefly to take in the tiny denim shorts and the loose-as-fuck white top she wore. The shorts revealed long thin tanned legs that went on for miles while the top hung so low I copped an eyeful of tits and a lacy pink bra, as well as a collarbone that revealed how thin she really was. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head and her face was bare of makeup. She was missing all the jewellery she usually wore at the clubhouse, which also meant she was missing the fucking jingle-jangle noise that followed her throughout the clubhouse.

Our eyes met and I caught the flash of irritation in hers. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d come over so late on Christmas or whether she was pissed off that I’d checked her body out. Not that I gave a fuck either way. Taking a step towards her, I pushed my way inside her house. “We need to talk.”

Without waiting for her to speak, I walked down her hallway towards what I figured was her kitchen. The door clicked closed behind me, and she muttered softly, “Sure, come on in.”

When I reached her kitchen, I turned to face her, ignoring the glare she was sending my way. “Jesus, Kree, you’ll burn your fucking house down with all these candles.”

They lined her hallway on shelves higher than my head and filled her kitchen and dining area, too. As I glanced around the room taking them all in, I also noticed the plants she had lined up along the windowsill and scattered around the room. There had to be at least ten plants in there. I should have picked her for a fucking greenie, though, with the vibe she had going on. Kree was into herbs and crystals and talked in what felt like another language half the time with her discussions on star signs and moon phases and shit. Also, she’d been known to speak her mind occasionally, but usually she was too fucking soft as far as I was concerned. But fuck, she was the best damn bartender we’d ever had, so that was all that mattered to me.

“Haven’t yet,” she said, her voice firm. “What’s so urgent that you need to barge into my home at nearly ten on Christmas night?” The hint of fire I heard in her voice surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. With everything I knew about her, I knew she would go to the ends of the earth to protect her home and everyone in it. Someone forcing their way in—even someone she vaguely knew through work—wouldn’t be something she’d be comfortable with.

“I’ve been talking with Zane.” Her cousin.

She stiffened at that and blinked once, but full fucking points to her for maintaining her cool. “And?” Even her voice didn’t waver.

I reached into my pocket and pulled the envelope out that I’d brought with me. Dropping it on the kitchen table, I said, “He told me what’s going on.” Lifting my chin at the envelope, I said, “That’s for you, and I don’t want any of it back.”

Frowning, she picked up the envelope. It was when she looked inside it that her carefully maintained composure finally shattered. “Fuck, King,” she said as she looked from the envelope to me. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

I scowled as she tried to hand it back to me. Shaking my head, I said, “No, it’s not. You need it. I don’t.”

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She opened her mouth to argue, but a little voice carried through the air, calling out to her. “Mummy, I don’t feel so well.” A moment later, a boy entered the room, coming straight to her and wrapping his arms around her legs.

I knew his name to be Tommy, and his age to be four. I also knew his father to be a cunt who Tommy and his younger sister, Mara, needed protection from.

Kree crouched low and took Tommy’s face in her hands. Concern etched her face as she said, “Do you feel like you might vomit, baby?”

He nodded his head. His face was so white I figured she probably had less than a minute before he made good on that. She figured it, too. Scooping him up in her arms, she hurried out of the room with him, leaving me alone while trying to soothe him with love.

My fucking gut tightened at the image of mother and child.

Fuck.

I raked my fingers through my hair.