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Slay (Storm MC 4)

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He grinned. “Can I have his number if you’re not gonna use it?”

I shook my head at him. “Something tells me Blade isn’t gay. I think you’re shit out of luck there, dude.”

“I think you might be right, boss lady. Why is it all the hot guys are straight?” he grumbled.

I snorted. “That’s what she said.”

He laughed and we finished closing up. As I worked, my thoughts drifted to the events of the night. I was a little concerned about Mario coming back but, at the same time, I was fairly sure Blade had sorted that out for me. Something told me he was a man you didn’t mess with, even if you were a debt collector who chopped fingers off for a living. And that in itself kind of scared me, because I didn’t know whether owing Blade something would come back to bite me in the ass or not.

Chapter Four

Blade

I steered the car towards Scott’s house. We’d organised to meet there this morning to discuss Storm business. My mind should have been focused on that, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was focused entirely on Layla. I couldn’t get the dark-haired beauty out of my mind after last night. She seemed to be a strong woman, and yet I’d sensed a vulnerability to her. I was attracted to that. I didn’t want to think about it, but that side of her reminded me so much of Ashley. She hid it well, though. Ashley hadn’t and she’d let me in easily. I sensed Layla wouldn’t be the kind of woman to do that.

Fuck, why was I even thinking about this? It wasn’t like I was interested in starting something. I’d learnt women were best kept at arm’s length. Since Ashley’s death, I hadn’t found a woman who came close to her. All I’d found were women interested in themselves, and fucked if I’d spend my life with a woman like that. I craved someone with a genuine kindness to them, someone who cared about other people as much as they cared about themself, and I’d rather end up alone than settle for less than that.

When I arrived at Scott’s, he was deep in conversation with Harlow on their front lawn. Neither appeared happy, and this surprised me; from what I knew, they were tight. I watched as Scott pulled her back as she turned to leave. His grip on her wrist looked firm, and she struggled out of it but let him continue talking. Whatever was going on with them appeared to be serious.

Eventually, he finished talking and pulled her to him to lay a kiss on her forehead, and then she headed to her car in the driveway. I watched her leave as I walked to where he was standing. He’d seen me, but his gaze was fixed on Harlow, and he didn’t turn to me until her car had left the street.

“Morning.” He gave me a perfunctory look before turning and taking the stairs up to his house.

I followed silently. Once we were inside, he offered me coffee and as he made it, I asked cautiously, “Everything good with you and Harlow?” Being in Scott’s home wasn’t something I experienced often. And being alone with him even less. There was a distance between us that, as much as I’d tried to close it, had hardly changed since we’d met last year. We were both too stubborn and moody for our own good. I inwardly grimaced: a trait we shared with our father.

He glanced at me before giving his attention back to the coffee. His voice was off when he finally spoke. “No, we’re going through some stuff at the moment. It’s fucked.” His hands stilled and his gaze hit mine. What I saw there made me suck in a breath. Whatever was going on, Scott was having a tough time at the moment because his face was a mask of torment. His eyes were hard when he added, “Everything’s fucked.”

I let him get it out and then let him finish making coffee. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t force it. A few minutes later, he placed a mug in front of me and said, “Marcus’s first coke shipment hit the streets this week. Seems this has pissed some of your old friends off.”

“Who?” Actually, I had a good idea who he was talking about but needed to know the name. It wasn’t a name I wanted to hear, though.

“Ricky Grecian.” His stare penetrated me; he knew what this name meant to me.

I acknowledged it with a quick nod. “Figured that would happen.”

“What does this mean for Storm?” He asked the question but he had to know the repercussions. Everyone in Brisbane knew Ricky was a man to be avoided at all costs.

I humoured him regardless. “Let’s just say Ricky will twist your balls till you wished you didn’t fucking have any, because the thing about him is he likes to play with his opponents for a while. He’ll eventually try to take you out but he likes to have some fun beforehand.” I paused before adding, “Ricky’s a sadistic fuck. Has Marcus got this covered?”

Scott raked his hand through his hair, the look on his face indicating he clearly didn’t think so, but he replied, “He says he has but I have my doubts. And the division in the club at the moment won’t help us.”

“Where are you at with all this?” It had been a few months since Griff took over as Vice President, and I’d watched as the club had slowly begun falling apart. The support Marcus and Griff had at first was beginning to take a hit. I suspected this had to do with the direction Marcus was taking the club; he’d made a lot of promises in order to gather support, but the reality of it wasn’t as rosy.

He drank some of his coffee and took his time answering me. “More of the boys have come to me with concerns about how Marcus is handling stuff. Problem is they haven’t voiced that to him so he thinks they’re all behind him, and still will be behind him, when shit goes down with Ricky.”

“You need to deal with that, and soon.”

He blew out a long breath. “Fuck, Blade, what the hell do you think I’m trying to fucking do? I’ve got J and Nash helping, but even between the three of us, with all the other normal club business we’ve got to take care of, shit’s going slow.”

“I’m telling you, don't fuck around with Ricky. Put your other shit to the side and take care of this first. Otherwise, you might not have a club to even worry about.”

As we sat in frustrated silence, glaring at each other, a voice boomed from the front door. “Scott, why is this fuckin’ cat still at your house giving me grief?”

I turned to see Nash entering the kitchen a moment later. He lifted his chin in greeting before looking at Scott with a perplexed gaze. “What’s up with the cat?”

Scott shrugged. “Fucked if I know. Monty seems to like it here more than next door. Lisa’s over here visiting Harlow half the fuckin’ time so I guess her cat just follows. What’s your problem with him?”

“He has it in for me! Tries to attack me every fuckin’ time he sees me,” Nash grumbled.



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