Storm (Sex and Bullets 1)

“It sure does.” My throat closes. I lean my cheek on his good leg, looking up at him. “Is Hawk okay, you think?”

“No, he’s not. But he’ll have to come to terms with it.”

With the fact his dad is one of the leaders of a shady organization and had a hand in killing not only Storm’s parents and uncle, but in the attempts on Storm’s life, too.

“And you? How are you coping?”

He leans forward, the blue in his eyes glittering dark. “Kiss me, baby.”

His mouth covers mine. His tongue swipes my lips open, and his teeth nip until I let him in. He kisses me hard and rough, a hand cradling my head, dragging me closer. He licks and pleasures my mouth with his tongue until I can’t think straight, until I moan and shift where I’m kneeling.

Satisfied, he finally pulls back, leaving me gasping and aroused.

He runs his thumb over my tingling lip and leans back, smiling. “Now I’m fine.”

Chapter Twenty

STORM

Of course I’m not coping so well. Hawk and Rook’s families are my family, too. We grew up together. My father, Hawk’s father and Rook’s mother are third cousins. I always thought that was why the families were so close.

Now it turns out there might have been other reasons. Like the Organization. Money. Power. And death.

Hawk comes inside at the same time as our dinner and my medicine. He says nothing, and I dig into my pasta. I’m famished. Regretfully I eschew the wine, because of the damn antibiotics. I don’t look up from my plate until I’m stuffed.

“Here.” Raylin puts my pills in my hand and pushes a tall glass full of water toward me.

Hawk lifts a brow at this, obviously expecting me to crack a joke, a “yes, Mom,” or something, but I ignore him.

My brain is shutting down. Here we’re as safe as we can be right now, and I’m warm, fed, and with my girl. What more can a man want?

“Did you call the lawyers?” Hawk asks, shattering my nirvana moment.

“I forgot.” How the fuck could I forget about it?

“You were distracted,” Raylin whispers, and a pretty flush spreads on her face.

Damn if that doesn’t make me grin.

“Get a room, you two,” Hawk mutters and pours himself more wine. He’s just about finished the bottle.

Like I said: I don’t think he’s dealing well with this. Hawk loves his parents. Sure, they aren’t tight, but they do meet for lunch from time to time and he looks up to them.

Or used to, until now.

“Here,” he says, passing me his cell. “The lawyers’ number. Call them now.”

He’s right, I should. So I call them and tell them what I need. They sputter and tell me it’s impossible. I tell them it’s possible. They insist. So do I. They tell me there isn’t enough time.

I go medieval on their ass, threaten to fire them if they don’t get me what I want.

Guess I am a Jordan, after all.

They assure me they’ll have the cash in a briefcase waiting for me tomorrow at midday. I hang up and throw the cell back to Hawk.

“What else do I need to know about tomorrow’s meeting?” Raylin’s head is again resting on my thigh, and I pet her hair. “Who’s gonna be there?”

“Us, and my man, the connection to the triad. You know, you’re lucky it’s the Chinese mafia you’re dealing with. Not as rigid as the Italian or the Russian mafia, not as dependent on the bigger bosses to make decisions.”