War of Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 2)

He works his jaw. “I’m just stating facts; it is a waste of my time. Of both our time.”

“Yeah, well your delivery could do with some work. Trust me on that.”

Before he can say something else that’s rude, I spin back around and return to jogging.

I then spend the next hour trying to keep my thoughts off him and the fact he’s right behind me, but I fail. Epically. He’s all I can think about.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on Fury. It was at Cade’s birthday party earlier this year when he walked in with the kind of purposeful, confident stride that always catches my attention. He’d been intent on finding King, and I’d tracked him for the five minutes he’d stayed. It hadn’t been long enough, and he was gone before I’d really had much time to soak him in. What I had soaked in—his tattooed muscles, thick blond hair, and determined aura—had given me plenty to fantasise about. Since then, the only times I’ve seen him have been at the clubhouse, fighting out the back with other members, or sitting in the bar with a club whore draped over him.

I’ve had a crush on him since that first day. I even begged Holly to get me the goss on him, but all she gave me was his name—Ryan Hayes—and that he keeps mostly to himself. Now, after that party last week, I’m freaking pissed off with him, but I can’t get rid of my attraction. It’s one of the craziest and most annoying things about the guy. I want to be able to look at him and feel instant dislike, and yet I don’t.

We run for about an hour. Unfortunately, I have to admit to myself that I’m relieved Fury is with me. Since the mugging, my thoughts are so paranoid and focussed on believing people I don’t know are going to harm me that I’m fairly sure if he wasn’t with me, I would have lost my shit on the run. I jogged past a few people and instantly felt the panic in my gut; just knowing Fury was behind me helped ease that panic.

As I approach my house, I slow and face him while continuing to jog backwards. It’s a super hot day and there hasn’t really been a cool afternoon change, and Fury is showing signs of that heat. Not prepared for a run, he’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. I feel sorry for him, but I’ll never tell him that.

“What time are you here till?” I ask.

“Five or so.” He’s broken a sweat on our run, but the guy is fit; he’s nowhere near as worked out from it as I am.

“Do you run much?”

“Some.”

“Do you only say a lot of words when you’re having a go at me?”

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what I was hoping for with this conversation, so I turn back around and jog the rest of the way home. When we arrive, I go inside without another word and fill a glass with cold water. Taking it back outside, I shove it at him. “Here. Maybe bring some running gear next time. And a drink bottle. King can’t afford to lose his star member to heatstr

oke.”

I don’t wait for his reply or for him to finish his drink. It’s way too distracting being so close to him while he’s in a post-run state. And that’s while his body is covered by jeans. I can only imagine how distracting it will be if he does bring running clothes. Maybe I need to reassess my plans to take running back up while he’s on duty.

7

Fury

* * *

Christ.

Today has turned into one big clusterfuck. If I’m to survive this job of watching Zara, I need to figure out the shit going on in my head. And I need to do that fast.

She drives me to distraction with her attitude. However, that’s not the thing I don’t think I can survive. No, it’s my goddam attraction to her that I think may be my undoing. And fucking hell, I can’t figure out why in the fuck I’m suddenly so drawn to her. Especially since she’s given me nothing but hell this afternoon. Not to mention the fact she’s way younger than any woman I’ve ever been into.

Running behind her for an hour will do that to a man.

She wore pink shorts and a white T-shirt while running. Neither were fitted. Neither were sexy, but hell, Zara can’t hide her beauty even if she tried. Her body is toned as hell, her ass is a ten, and her tits look to be the perfect handful. I’ll never know how fucking perfect because she’s off fucking limits.

I need a cold shower and not just because I’ve run for an hour in the heat. When she jogged backwards facing me, I had to work like fuck to keep my eyes off her tits. I’m not sure what’s harder at this point: dealing with her attitude or keeping my eyes off her. If King knew half the shit running through my head after this afternoon, he’d make sure I had trouble breathing.

I’ve never been more relieved than when Mace shows up to take over not long after Zara leaves me alone outside.

“Hey, brother,” he says. Then, taking in my sweaty appearance, he frowns. “You look like you’ve just done a workout.”

“I fucking have,” I mutter. Jerking my chin towards the house, I say, “She give you much grief?”

“Nah, man, she gives me cake. Why? You having problems with her?”