Illusive (Storm MC 5)

“Tell you what, J…go for it, brother,” I said, yanking Ricky up off the ground.

One of the things I knew about J was that he didn’t screw around when given a job to do, and he only proved to me today how true that was. The moment I gave him the go ahead, he nodded, aimed his gun at Ricky and fired. Ricky barely had time to even process my words before he was dead on the ground before us.

I looked from Ricky to J, and said, “Fuck, you don’t like to waste time, do you?”

“The only time I’m happy to do that is when I’m waiting for my wife’s lips to move from one end of my cock to the other, brother. You give me an order, consider it done there and then,” J replied as he walked to where Ricky lay.

Blade rounded up his guys. They would be taking care of Ricky’s body to ensure it was never found, and dumping the Range Rover while Blade drove J and I back to the clubhouse.

“That almost felt too easy,” J said.

“The thing I’ve learnt about easy is that it always comes back to haunt you,” Blade shared. “I doubt Ricky’s guys will rest until they figure this out, and my guess is they’ll be looking at us first, so we have to stay alert. We’ve got the plan in place for our homes and businesses to be watched, but there’s always that element of surprise – something we haven’t thought of – so watch your backs at all times.”

* * *

“Everything go down okay?” Scott asked when I entered his office an hour later.

“Yeah. J said it felt too easy and I have to agree with him,” I replied as I sat opposite him.

“It helped that we knew his schedule so well; knew his area of weakness.”

“True. How did your end go?”

He grinned, and it was the first time I’d seen a smile on his face for weeks. “It’s been too long since Storm has had some fun, brother.”

Brother.

Thank fuck.

“You think it worked?”

To give Storm an alibi for the time of the murder, for when Ricky’s guys went digging, we’d set up a distraction. Scott, Nash and every other member we could round up had headed over to the busiest bar in The Valley where we’d arranged for about ten chicks to be at, including Velvet. She’d staged an impromptu wet t-shirt competition and when the boys had turned up, Nash had revved them up to get involved and cause a scene, dragging as many of the bar’s customers into.

“Yeah, it worked. So many guys got into it that the bar owners called the cops who had to come and settle everyone down. The girls did a great job getting it all going, and it was fuckin’ funny watching the cops try to do their job while all the drunks ignored them. And it must have been a slow news day because Channel Ten arrived and filmed it all.”

“So now we wait and see where the dust settles,” I said.

“Yeah. I figure we’ve got eyes everywhere, watching all members’ families. We can’t do much more than that.”

I was silent for a moment, while I tried to get my thoughts in order so I could say what I needed to say. Eventually, I went with simple. “Thank you, brother.”

He knew what I meant and nodded. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“Yeah. My father was a prick, but my mother and brother didn’t deserve what happened to them.” It was odd to talk about the part of me I’d kept locked away from him for so long now.

“Fucking fathers,” he muttered. “We wouldn’t be here without the sons of bitches, but we’re sure as hell better off without ours, Griff.”

No truer words had been spoken about my father. And after all these years, it felt good to be able to talk about this with Scott.

Maybe my faith in family could be restored after all.

19

Sophia

I don’t know what made me do it, but after work that day, I found myself at the hospital my mother was at. Perhaps it was the good day I’d had that began with Griff being amazing this morning and ended with my boss being fired for being inappropriate with a number of the female staff. Regardless of the reason, I stepped through the door of her room at around five thirty and my past collided with my present in a way I could never have predicted.

She knew who I was the instant she saw me. How could she not? I was her spitting image, minus nineteen years. “Sophia,” she said softly, and I sucked in a breath at the sound of her voice. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.