by Nicola Jane
I fling the door open, letting it hit against the wall, and then I clench my fists and stamp my feet. It’s a childish thing to do, but I’m so frustrated, and I learnt it from a therapy group I once attended. When pressure builds, release it, much like a pressure cooker.
“Nice. Are you gonna throw yourself on the ground next?” I start at the sound of Storm’s deep voice. “I’m only asking so I can film it. ‘Grown woman throwing a tantrum’ will be a hit on the internet.”
“I have to get out of here,” I say, tugging on the collar of my shirt. I feel like I’m suffocating.
“You want me to get someone?” he asks, glancing at the door. I ignore him and head for the gates. “Lottie, don’t go off on your own,” he yells after me.
I’m almost at the end of the road by the time Storm’s bike slows beside me. “Get on,” he snaps.
“I need some space,” I say.
“You need to get on the bike.” He kicks the stand down and gets off the bike, but I keep walking until he grabs my arm. It’s the bandaged one, so I wince. “You like the pain, don’t you?” he asks, keeping hold of my arm. “Doesn’t it make you feel better?”
“You have no idea,” I snap, pulling free.
“I know a place. Somewhere you can go to be alone,” he mutters, and I see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “I’ll leave you alone once we’re there. You don’t have to talk to me.”
We stop on some wasteland. There’re dumped piles of unwanted household items everywhere. I slowly turn and take in our surroundings. “It doesn’t look much, but I promise, it’s quiet and no one comes here,” he smirks, “apart from when they wanna dump shit.”
“You sit amongst people’s unwanted waste?” I ask, arching my brow.
“No, I sit in that,” he says, pointing to a rundown caravan. The tyres are flat, and it’s rusting on the outside.
“So much better,” I mutter, following him towards the heap.
Inside, it’s better than I pictured. It’s clean, and there’s seating and a small table. On the counter are a few empty bottles of whiskey, which Storm quickly collects and disposes of in a waste bin. “I have coffee,” he says, pulling two cups out of a cupboard and placing them near a kettle.
“Who owns this heap?” I ask, taking a seat.
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “No one ever comes in here, so I just use it.”
I stare at him with my mouth fully open. “Storm, this could be someone’s property. I don’t know how you do things in Nottingham, but here in London, you can’t just rock up and use someone’s caravan.”
“No one ever touches the stuff I leave laying around here, so it can’t be occupied.”
He hands me a coffee, then takes his own and sits in the doorway of the caravan. I stare at his back for a few seconds. “It’s kinda weird sitting here together with your back to me,” I say.
“We ain’t here to chat. You need some thinking time.”
“Were the whiskey bottles yours?”
“Again, we’re not here to talk,” he mutters.
“I just feel a bit weird sitting here not talking,” I say, tapping my fingers on the table. “It was three bottles, that’s a lot for one person.”
“Who said I drank them alone?” he spits.
“No need to get defensive. I’m not judging.”
“You can’t when you cut yourself for kicks,” he mutters.
“Ouch,” I almost whisper. “Fine, you win. No talking.”
We sit for a few minutes. Eventually, he clears his throat. “You been doing that shit long?” He stares straight ahead.
“Long enough to know it doesn’t help,” I say. “But I still do it.”
“You wanna die?” he asks.
“Sometimes,” I admit, then steel myself. Why am I opening up to this guy? If he tells Lake, he might send me away. My heart aches at that thought. I love the MC and I love being around Lake, Sara, and Leo. “Where’s Seb’s mum?”
“Fuck, you’re nosy.”
“It’s a talent,” I say, smiling.
“Do you get help for it?” he asks, referring to my cutting.
“Did she die?”
“Cos you should. Lying and telling people you did it by accident won’t help.”
“Sara said Seb’s got special needs. What’s that mean?”
“I ain’t explaining my life to you, especially when it comes to my kid.”
“Fine. Stop talking then,” I snap. “Don’t ask me shit and not expect to answer any of my questions.”
We fall silent again. This time, I press my lips closed so I’m not tempted to ask him anything else. Not one to sit still, I eventually slide past him and take a walk around the dumping ground.
STORM
I watch her move around the piles of waste. She’s beautiful. Her long hair is tied up into a messy pile on top of her head. She’s wearing leggings that fit snug to her rounded ass, and I can’t take my eyes off it. She bends down behind an abandoned mattress, and when she doesn’t reappear, my curiosity gets the better of me and I head over. “Look,” she whispers, standing with a small bundle of fur in her arms. “It’s a puppy.”
A pair of black eyes and a wet black nose stare back at me. “Fuck, Lottie, put that thing down. You don’t know where the hell it’s been. I bet it’s got fleas!”
“He’s scared,” she says, hugging the puppy closer.
“You can’t take that back to the club,” I say. “Riggs will have a fit.”
“I can’t leave it here,” she hisses. “He might die.”
“Sometimes that’s the way. Survival of the fittest and all that,” I say, heading back towards the caravan.
I hear her steps behind me. “Are you kidding me? You really want me to leave this puppy here to die?”
“What if it belongs to the owner of the caravan?” I suggest.
“You said there was no owner.”
“Riggs hates having Diesel around the place as it is. He ain’t gonna take kindly to a flea-ridden puppy chewing shit up.”
“Bet the kids will love him,” she says, smiling as the puppy snuggles against her chest. “I think I love him already,” she adds, and I roll my eyes. I’m not a fan of animals. Seb wanted a puppy right after everything with his mum, but it was one thing I never gave in on.
“We can’t take it on the bike anyway. Leave it here, and if it’s still around the next time I come, I'll bring it back.” It’s a lie, and she doesn’t fall for it. Instead, she tucks the puppy against her stomach and zips her jacket up, leaving just his head out, which he soon tucks away too. “You’ve got to be kidding. Lottie, I can’t have a fucking live animal on the back of my bike. What if he gets loose?”
“He won’t. Please, Storm. I can’t abandon him. He looks so sad. Maybe he’ll be the thing I need to take my mind off shit,” she says, making me groan. Using that is a low blow but one I know I’ll give in to. Anything to stop her hurting herself. I try not to think too much about why I feel that way.
“Tell me why you did that yesterday,” I say, nodding towards her arms, “and I might consider it.”
She hesitates. “It’s so stupid,” she almost whispers. “I feel so stupid.”
“I won’t judge. I don’t do that.”
“I saw some stuff on social media. It got to me. I haven’t hurt myself like that for ages and I just had a bad day.”
“What did you see?” I push.
“Why do you need to know?” she wails, and the puppy sticks his head back out her jacket.
“So I can make sure it never happens again.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally sighs. “My ex had a baby with my best friend. It was born yesterday.”
I walk towards my bike without another word, and she follows. That’s all I need for now . . . until she trusts me.
I take the puppy from Lottie once we’re outside the clubhouse. She gives a questioning look. “Well, if Diesel wants to eat it, at least he’ll bite me to get it
and not you,” I explain, and she smiles.
“Careful, I’ll start to think you care.”
Inside, there’s an audience. Riggs and Anna are at the bar with Cree and Eva. Diesel marches right up to me, sniffs the puppy, then walks off like it’s nothing. “Aww,” says Lottie, smiling. “He likes him.”
I present the puppy to Riggs, who eyes it suspiciously while the women gush over how cute he is. I let Lottie explain why the fuck I’m holding this flea bag in the club, and when she’s finished, Riggs rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t fucking lose it on the way back here?” he asks me, and I shrug. Anna playfully nudges his arm with hers.
“It is kinda cute. It’s not like you’ll have to look after it,” she says, placing a kiss on his cheek. “And you do owe me.”
“You’re gonna use that again?” he asks, and she nods. “Fine, it’s one less thing off the list,” he says, and Anna smiles at Lottie, who does a small happy dance before she heads off towards the stairs.
“List?” I ask.
“I’ve got to give in to Anna ten times to make up for being an ass. Malia’s idea. So, that dog is number four ticked off. Six more to go, baby,” he says, smacking Anna on the ass.
Chapter Three
LOTTIE
I’m in the main room watching television with Seb and Malia. It’s a kids’ film, but it takes my mind off other things. The puppy is sleeping curled up between the kids.
Storm’s sister, Taya, joins us. “Have you named the dog yet?” she asks.
I shake my head, and Seb looks back at me. “I like Bently.” Malia nods in agreement.
“That’s kinda cute,” agrees Taya.
“I like it!” The kids cheer. “I gotta get him food and stuff,” I say.
“I don’t think you need to bother,” says Taya, nodding towards the door.
Storm is carrying some bags towards us, then he dumps them at my feet. “Let’s go wash that thing before he infects the kids.”
“I checked him,” I say, laughing. “He doesn’t have fleas.”
“Still,” he mutters, scooping the puppy up and then the bags. Taya winks at me, and I follow Storm upstairs to his room. He empties the bags onto his bed. “I got shampoo. A leash. Some bowls. Food.” I stare at the haul, which also includes some puppy toys, and I smile.
“What do I owe you for all this?”
“Nothing,” he says, heading to his bathroom.
“But you hate him,” I accuse, following. He’s filling the bath with Bently under his arm.
“Hate is strong. I just didn’t want you to catch anything or get your heart set on keeping him for Riggs to say no.”
Once there’s enough water in the tub, he puts Bently in, and I pass him the dog shampoo. He baths him expertly, and minutes later, he’s wrapping him into a large fluffy towel and carrying him back to the bedroom. I watch from the doorway as he rubs the puppy, smiling when he tries to lick Storm’s face.
“Where did you live before coming here?” he asks.
“I’ve been around. I was looking for Lake for a long time and I spent the last year going from biker club to biker club. Before that, I lived in Norfolk.”
“That where your boyfriend lives?”
I nod. Just thinking of Justin hurts my heart. “We had a place together.”
“Did you split before he bedded your best mate?”
I place a handful of the dry food into Bently’s new bowl as Storm places him on the floor so he can eat. “No. We all lived together. I let her move in because she’d had a nasty break-up. She lived with us for around eight months, and for six of those, they were creeping around behind my back.”
“That’s real shitty,” he mutters.
“Whatever.” I shrug. “I’m glad they found happiness.”
Storm arches a brow. “Really?”
“God, no, I was trying to tone down the bitter ex bull,” I say, smiling.
He takes my arm and stares down at the bandage, unwrapping it again. It’s healing well, the redness much calmer than yesterday. “I drink,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb over one of the wounds. “When I can’t cope, I turn to alcohol. My biggest downfall. It’s caused a lot of problems.”
“Is that why Seb’s mum left?” I ask.
“She didn’t leave,” he mutters. “Not by choice.” He begins to wrap my arm again, but once he’s done, he keeps a hold of my hand. “I’m not good at relationships.”
“I thought I was,” I say. “Seems not. I didn’t even see it when they were cheating right under my nose. It only came out because she got pregnant.”
“What did you do when you found out?”
I stare down at where his hand holds mine. “Something stupid as usual. It didn’t work. He just got mad and tried to have me sectioned.”
He places his finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him. His brown eyes stare straight into mine. “Don’t be ashamed of struggling. We all do stupid shit when we get hurt.”
“I love too hard,” I mutter. “It’s what Annabell used to tell me. Maybe she was trying to get me to back off right before stealing him.”
“How can you love too hard?” he asks. “Love is love—you don’t control how you feel it.”
“I do these days,” I say, smiling. “I avoid it.”
He grins. “Me too. Works out much better that way.”
Turns out Bently hates to sleep alone, which is why I ended up putting him in bed beside me in the middle of the night. He’d spent the first few hours sleeping, then whimpering for an hour, until I eventually gave in. Now, at five in the morning, he’s decided he’s had enough of sleep altogether and is pacing the room, crying. I pull on some joggers and take him downstairs. Maybe a walk around the yard will settle him.
I’m around the side of the club watching Bently sniff the dirt when I hear voices. Pausing, I listen to make sure it’s club members and not strangers.
“Why are you out here so early?” It’s Taya’s voice.
“Couldn’t sleep,” comes Storm’s voice. “You?”
“Seb had an unsettled night. He’s finally gone off, and now I’m wide awake.”
“Sorry, you should have come and got me,” he mutters.
“It’s fine. You heard anything from Laura after your call?” There’s silence and then she sighs. “At least the cops haven’t turned up. Maybe she didn’t report you.”
“The whole thing is bullshit,” he mutters.
“You can’t go to prison, Storm. Not over her. How come you and Lottie were out together?”
“She needed a break from this place.”
“Just be careful there, Storm. Let’s not let history repeat itself,” she mutters.
“Taya, get off my back,” he snaps. “I’m not gonna fucking break every time I see a woman I like. I told you I’m not looking for anything and I meant it.”
Bently yaps, and I panic, running away from where I’m standing, and then I turn and stroll back towards them like I’ve been walking all along. Storm comes around the corner and his eyes narrow in on me. “What are you doing?”
“Walking the dog,” I say, frowning. “Obviously.”
Bently fusses around Storm’s feet, and he strokes him, eventually picking him up. “You want company?”
“Sure,” I say.
He glances back to where Taya must be standing. “Catch you later.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes. “Taya spends a lot of time looking after Seb,” I say.
Storm nods. “She’s his legal guardian.” I wasn’t expecting that and I must look shocked because he smiles, nodding again. “She’s an amazing sister. She took him on when I had to go away for a while.”
“Where to?” I ask.
He hesitates before eventually saying, “Prison.”
“For?” I ask.
He laughs. “Enough story time from me.” We fall silent again. “So, since your ex,
there’s been no one else?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I
’ve given up on men.”
“Liar. Lake told me you were interested in me,” he says, winking. I gasp at Lake’s betrayal. “He was worried I’d sweep you off your feet and warned me off.”
“He did what?” I snap.
“Relax,” he soothes. “I’d do exactly the same if a guy like me was sniffing around Taya. He knows bad news when he sees it.”
“I can make my own decisions.”
“I’m sure you can,” he mutters. “It’s a good job we’ve both sworn off relationships,” he adds.
“Did you go to prison for killing Seb’s mum?” I ask, and he frowns. “Well, you won’t tell me, so I have to make up my own story,” I say, smiling.
He laughs. “Your imagination is wild.”
STORM
Fuck, she’s everywhere I turn. I’ve lost count of the cold showers I’ve had to cool myself off, but she’s stuck in my mind twenty-four-seven. Taya’s following me around, watching me extra closely in case I ‘make a bad choice’ as she likes to call it.
“Storm, you need to watch Seb today,” Taya says.
“Why? What are you doing?” I snap. She always watches Seb for me. It’s like an unwritten rule.
“I’m having a day off,” she says, sounding equally pissed.
“A day off?” I repeat. When she doesn’t break a smile, I realise she’s deadly serious. “I can’t. I have shit to do,” I say, heading to Riggs’ office. The door is open and he glances up. “Ain’t that right, Pres?”
He looks between us, then nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Vinn needs manpower today.”
“You need to give me some notice when you just wanna take off,” I say, arching a brow. Taya huffs and marches off. “Thanks, Pres. I owe yah.”
“I’m serious. Vinn’s asked for manpower. You can head to his house now.”
I groan. I was looking for an excuse, not a damn job.
Vinn wasn’t kidding when he said he needed manpower today. I slam my fist against the guy we have tied to a chair in Vinn’s club. It’s closed, being the middle of the day, but there’s staff around the place, stocking up for tonight. They don’t even look over as we lay into this guy.