Storm (Sex and Bullets 1)

Fucking strange.

Rook, Hawk and I have traded insults and punches since we were toddlers. It’s part and parcel of our weird friendship. I wonder what put that carefully constructed, totally fake blank look on Rook’s face.

Filing that for future reference and investigation, I slip my arm around Raylin who’s been waiting for me, dressed in flared jeans and a white tunic, long hair loose on her shoulders, and step into the elevator.

Sweat is cooling on my back. My stomach is a hard knot under my ribs. This is it. I’m about to claim the Jordan empire, with all its perks, scandals and savage deals.

Fuck.

In a daze, I walk out of the elevator, through the lobby, my bodyguards closing in behind us. I’m vaguely aware of Raylin’s slim form pressed to my side, Rook’s solid form at my left, the car waiting outside.

A limo. Of course it is. Because when I told Rook we needed a non-descript car to ride in, he gave me The Look. The one that says I should shut up before they bring in the shrinks.

So it takes me a few precious seconds to realize he’s steering me past the limo to a forest-green Toyota.

“There you go,” he says, his expression still closed off, unreadable. “Your ride. Your driver is my best guy. Cross-checked hundred

times over. That ought to put your damn mind to rest.”

The unexpectedness of it leaves me winded. “You’re golden, Rook.”

“Remember that.” He jabs a finger at me, avoids looking at Raylin. “See you at the office.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Nope.” He nods at the limo. “I’m taking your place.” He looks down at his dark suit. “Pretending to be you. Think I’ll pass the test?”

“Rook, no. Dammit.” He’s already walking away. “It’s dangerous,” I whisper.

“Meet you at the company HQ,” he throws over his shoulder.

Of course he doesn’t believe me. He’s just playing along, like the good friend he is, just short of patting me on the head and giving me a candy to keep me quiet.

“You think he might get attacked?” Raylin’s eyes are wide, flicking between me and Rook.

“I hope to hell not.” I struggle to unclench my jaw. I scowl at him as he climbs into the limo. “But I can’t fucking force him to be careful. Shit. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Go with the flow or sink. Because the only other option is going underground once more. Taking this car and driving into the Mexican desert for a couple decades.

Yeah, right.

Too bad I decided to stay and fight. I remind myself of my decision back at the beach house. At least one of us—at least Raylin should be able to walk away from this alive and free. I’ll do all it takes to see it done.

***

The drive to the law office goes fast with Raylin’s hand in mine. Smooth and without complication. My bodyguards in their silver Volvo follow us discreetly all the way.

See? I tell myself as we pull up outside the building. Rook was right. Nothing happened. Jesus.

Raylin pulls her hand from mine and presses her nose to the window to stare at the tall, old buildings lining the street of the business district. My eyes are glued to her shiny hair, the slender curve of her shoulders under the thin tunic, the pale arch of her neck.

Doubt is eating at me. I really thought someone who’d be trying to kill me would give it a try on my way to this meeting.

Not that any of this makes any damn sense.

Our driver steps out and opens Raylin’s door, then mine. We climb outside, into the cool Baltimore afternoon and enter the offices. Blood rushes in my ears, the thump thump thump of my pulse deafening.

This is it. This is fucking it. As we’re ushered past the front desk and into another set of elevators, a roaring darkness fills my mind. A moment I both longed for and dreaded since I was too young to understand what it entailed, what it meant.