Havoc (Storm MC 7)

Havoc

It had been four days since Dad came home from hospital and he was finally starting to get on my nerves. This was how our relationship had always been though, so I’d been waiting for it. He was feeling better so that was a plus. The doctors had given him a stent and I was hoping there wouldn’t be a repeat of this because staying in Brisbane for an extended time wasn’t high on my list of things to look forward to. On the other hand, staying meant seeing Carla again and that ranked highly on my list. Sex with her was the best sex I’d ever had, and I’d miss it when I left.

I was helping Dad sort out his medication when my phone rang. Checking the caller ID, I was surprised to see it was King. The President of Sydney Storm. Not a man I dealt with often, but when he called, I answered.

“King,” I said into the phone, leaving Dad to his medicine. This wasn’t a call he needed to hear. The kind of jobs King called on me for weren’t jobs anyone needed to know about.

“Havoc. Got a problem and we need you to take care of it.”

“Figured, brother. Where?”

“Sydney. It’s that idiot you dealt with two weeks ago.”

“What? He owes you more money?”

“No, turns out the asshole is cousins with one of our suppliers who is now threatening to cut us off. It’s Jackson Jones. The boys tell me you know him well so I thought you might be able to help us out.”

I did know Jackson. Psycho drug dealer. “Fuck, King. Jackson’s a crazy motherfucker.”

He sighed. “You’r

e telling me, brother. Can you be here in a couple of days or sooner?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave tonight, and ride straight through. See you tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said, and hung up.

I shoved my phone in my pocket, and then pulled it straight back out to send Carla a text.

Me: You home?

Carla: Yeah.

Me: See you in an hour.

Carla: Fuck yeah.

I smiled and put my phone back away, not sure I could last an hour. The bulge that seemed to live in my pants thanks to her might well cause me to head over sooner.

* * *

Carla

“Carla!” Nash yelled out from the front door.

Bloody hell, I had the headache of all headaches, and his yelling was only going to make it worse. Velvet and I had gone out drinking last night, and I’d ended up with a hangover from hell. Thankfully the headache had eased somewhat but it still lingered.

I didn’t bother answering him; he’d find me.

A minute later, he appeared in the kitchen, a scowl covering his face.

I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Havoc fuckin’ Caldwell. That’s what’s wrong,” he thundered.

Shit.

I figured he’d be pissed if he found out. Hence, I hadn’t told him, but the anger rolling off him was far worse than I’d imagined. I put down the dish I was washing up, and gave him my full attention. “He told you?”