Relent (Sydney Storm MC 1)

I gripped her harder and levelled an angry stare on King. “What the fuck?” I roared, “She didn’t want to fucking see that!”

King’s eyes had morphed from wild crazy to deranged crazy. When he spoke, his words dripped with lunacy and the hardness that was signature King. “I don’t give a fuck what she thought she wanted. She needed to see that.”

“No, she fuckin’ didn’t.”

We faced off, glaring at each other. King was amped, his body taut and full of rage. I knew that look from past experience. He hadn’t rid himself of the need to exact revenge yet; he still had more in him and he’d have to find a way to work that out of his mind and body before the night was over.

He dismissed me with a wave of his gun. “Get her out of my fucking sight.”

She whimpered in my hold, her body wracked with sobs. Without another word to King, I began dragging her out of the room. I moved fast, and when we made it to where the other guy was lying passed out in the hallway, I stepped over his body and roughly pulled the girl outside with me. I knew what King would do with him and she didn’t need to see any more death.

I had her on the back of my bike and was just about to leave when another gunshot sounded. A moment later, King stepped outside and stalked to us.

“You take her, and I’ll call Bronze,” he ordered, still with that deranged glint in his eyes.

The cops.

Of course. Shit was gonna go down between Storm and Silver Hell over this if they ever worked out it was us responsible for the deaths of two members. King had Bronze on our payroll and it was a smart move to give him a heads-up over this.

As I sped off in the direction the girl gave me, unease slid through me. The two clubs had existed for years on a mutual agreement to leave each other the fuck alone. The events of tonight had obliterated that agreement, and while Storm was capable of holding its own, I didn’t want to go to battle.

A battle meant death and destruction.

Two things I’d seen enough of to last me a lifetime.

Chapter Three

Evie

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and walked to the vanity. The woman staring back at me in the mirror seemed more like a stranger than me.

When did I lose myself?

I spread toothpaste onto my toothbrush and tried to avoid my thoughts. They came hard and fast, though, relentlessly chasing me. Trying to force me to face them.

A year ago when you gave up on Kick.

That’s when you lost yourself.

Lost your way.

I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed. Slamming the toothbrush down, I muttered, “Shit.” I reached for the towel and dried my face. Staring back at myself in the mirror, I traced my finger over the dark bags under my eyes. Leaning closer to the mirror, I stared hard at myself.

Fuck, my grief and exhaustion plastered my face.

Moving my face away from the mirror I reached for my skincare and slathered it on. I still couldn’t be bothered with makeup, but at least the skincare might help.

Jeremy’s funeral yesterday had taken every last drop of energy from me. And then seeing Kick had sucked anything remaining.

Kick.

Why the hell had he come back? The last year with no contact had been hard. Harder than the years where we’d been apart but still in touch. At the time, I’d thought those years were hard – having him there but not having him as mine. I’d finally gotten my head together over it all only to have him come and screw with my mind and my heart again.

Just when I’d decided not to care about anything anymore, he’d shown up, and I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Turns out I still did care about something. Or rather, someone.

A loud knock on my front door distracted me from my thoughts. Shit, at eight o’clock in the damn morning. Really? They could go to hell, I wasn’t ready for visitors.

The knocking turned into loud banging and then I was stunned to hear a female voice I knew well yell out, “Evie, are you home?”