Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

He stared at her for a beat. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Can’t fucking argue with that.”

My chest filled with warmth. The three of us had come so fucking far in the year since Dad’s death. The old man would have been proud to witness it.

Max had tried like fuck to save his marriage, but six months in, he’d had to acknowledge defeat. As much as I didn’t like Melissa or believe she loved him how he deserved, I hated watching my brother struggle through his decision to divorce her. If anyone was the poster boy for fighting for a marriage, it was Max. Hell, he’d gone above and fucking beyond in his efforts, but at the end of the day, Melissa had ravaged him and he’d had to walk away to save himself and his children from the wreck of their marriage.

Together, we’d managed to save the homes Mum and Dad had left us, and kept them in the family. Melissa had cleaned him out financially, but I would have gone to the ends of the earth to save both him and t

hose homes from her. Max now lived in Dad’s house, and six months into single life, he’d started dating again. I called him regularly, but Birdie had taken him under her wing and checked in on him a few times a week via Facetime. She told me she needed to see his eyes to know he was really okay and not just faking it on the phone. I loved her even more for loving my brother. It turned out, Dad had been right all along—Max and I needed the love of a good woman.

But then, that was how Birdie lived her life. She loved her way through it, and we all reaped the rewards of her love.

Max’s attention drifted and a moment later, he stood and excused himself, heading for a dark-haired woman who stood at the bar alone.

Birdie’s fingers ghosted across my neck as she brought her mouth to my ear. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?”

I gripped her waist with one hand while moving my other one to her thigh. “My wife tells me all the time, but she hasn’t told me today.”

Her gaze dropped to where my hand teased the hem of her dress. “She’s slacking on her job.”

“Yeah, she is.” One finger slid under the hem. Birdie’s sharp intake of breath caused my dick to strain against my jeans. “I fucking love her, though. Even if she forgets to tell me shit like that.” Another finger caressed her thigh and disappeared under her dress.

Her eyes came to mine, and my heart constricted at what I saw in them. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” I barely heard her because she spoke so softly, but I felt every syllable of what she’d asked.

“Yes.” My answer was firm. Adamant. In-fucking-flexible. There was no way we weren’t going to be okay. I would make absolutely sure of that.

She nodded slowly as she took a deep breath. “Yes, we will be. I was just having a moment. Ignore me.”

“I’ll never ignore you, Angel. You have as many fucking moments as you need; I’ll be standing by your side through all of them.”

Her eyes searched mine. “You’re preparing for war, aren’t you?”

“Not anymore; I’m past preparing. I’m fucking ready now, and baby, war is my specialty, so you have nothing to worry about. Even if this cycle doesn’t go our way, and even if the next one doesn’t, and the one after that, I’ve got you. I’ve got us.”

And I did, because she had me.

She’d always had me, even when she went about it the wrong way. My woman loved me like no other, and in return, I loved her like my life depended on it. Because it did. Without Birdie, I had nothing. And so, I would love her, fight for her, battle wars with her, and protect her forever. And I would do the same for our children. Love, fight, battle, protect: the Morrison way. The only fucking way.