by Franca Storm
“Let’s go,” I tell Dealer, cocking my Desert Eagle. I didn’t go automatic. Wanted to keep things personal with Skinner. Take him out close range. Dealer’s got my cover anyway.
He readies his TEC-9 and we rip down the hill side by side.
We skid to a stop when we reach the gates. I take in the bloodied scene in front of me. None of Skinner’s guys are prepared. They’re just running ‘round like fucking chickens with their heads missing. My guys ain’t got no trouble gunning ‘em all down. Good.
As I dismount, I spot Skinner heading for the gates. His Sergeant-at-Arms, Bulldozer, is covering him. They’re too distracted by the chaos ‘round ‘em to notice me and Dealer lying in wait.
I nod to Dealer and he rips into Bulldozer, bullets tearing into his chest. He’s buried in seconds.
I lunge forward, grab Skinner’s shoulders and haul him into the chain-link fence bordering the compound.
I got some serious shit to work outta my system.
“You piece of shit!” I snarl at him.
He throws a punch, but I catch it in my palm and twist sharply to the right, snapping his wrist. He grunts in pain. He’s gonna be screaming soon.
“You killed my kid!” I roar, smashing my fist into his face. I punch him again. “Nearly killed my girl!” I knee him in the gut. “Murdered my mom! Tried to rape my girl! Fucking scarred her! Trapped me in this life! Made my life a living hell with your rep hanging over my head!”
I kick him to his knees.
He looks up at me, a malicious smirk on his face. “I made you what you are,” he spits.
“I ain’t nothing like you!”
He leans forward on his hands, panting for breath. His eyes stray to Dealer. “You had it coming, fucking my wife, Cal.”
Dealer moves beside me and glares down at him. “Fucking her? She was mine first. You took her from me. Hid her for the longest time and by then it was too damn late. You’d seduced her into your world. The fucking Devil’s Mavericks world. You manipulated her. And when she realized the truth, you started beating on her, ‘til Ax was old enough and strong enough to knock you on your ass and get you outta their goddamn house!”
“Bitch shoulda fallen in line!” Skinner seethes.
Seeing the look on Dealer’s face, I step back to give him some room.
He pistol whips Skinner across the head. Some brutal shit with a gun as big as that. Skinner curses and falls back.
I kneel down beside him. “Just as I thought, old man. When it counts, you ain’t even man enough to fight back. Always had your expendable muscle for that. Coming back on you now, yeah?”
He don’t say nothing this time. Knows I’m right.
I get to my feet.
It’s time.
I cock my gun.
“Wait!” he yells.
Fuck me, I hesitate. Hearing him beg ain’t what I’d expected at all.
I watch in shock as his expression softens. Ain’t never seen that from him before. He’s always been hard as nails all the time. He groans and pushes himself to his feet, grabbing the chain-link fence to help himself out. Me and Dealer both tense, thinking he’s gonna make a move. One last ditch attempt to escape.
But he don’t make a move.
That confusing soft expression of his remains as he looks my way.
And then he says, “You’re Prez of a club now. So, you need to hear this. Never make a deal or get into a situation that’ll take you down a dark road, cuz you’ll never find your way back. Never works out that way. It’ll seep into every fucking pore of you. Blacken your goddamn soul. And that ain’t you, son. You’re better than that. Keep it that way.” He gestures ‘round him. “Don’t end up like me.”
Fucking hell.
“Ax!” Dealer hisses at me, telling me to pull the trigger.
Shit, I been waiting on this moment for so fucking long and now I’m hesitating, cuz he’s finally had a goddamn epiphany?
He lifts his chin at me in a sign of respect.
Again, a first.
And then he steels himself and tells me, “Do it, son.”
Yeah, he knows what I do. It’s way too little, too late. He’s too fucking dangerous.
I pull the trigger, putting a bullet between his eyes.
I watch him hit the ground and my whole body breathes a heavy fucking sigh.
It’s finally over.
Chapter 41
~Ax~
It’s been ‘bout three months since Dealer told me ‘bout Rox’s plans to leave Brockford. And after a hell of a lot of hassle, I found out today is the day.
I’m standing off to the side ‘bout halfway down her long-ass driveway watching the movers packing up her house into three moving trucks. I wonder if she’s found a new place just as amazing as this one, or if she’s gonna just put all her stuff in storage for now and rent ‘round or something.
I had to leave the bike a few blocks back, knowing she’d hear it if I got any closer. So, I’m on foot right now, dragging on a smoke.
So far she ain’t come out. Guess she’s busting balls inside, directing the movers. That’s my girl.
Ralph’s the only one who’s come out. Watched him throw out some garbage bags.
I’ve been here for close to an hour, smoked God knows how many cigarettes, and my body’s been on edge the entire time with the idea of actually seeing her again.
It’s been fucking months.
I know I shouldn’t be here right now. But, fuck it, I can’t let her leave without seeing her. Ain’t gonna interfere in her life. Ain’t even gonna talk to her. I just wanna look at her.
One last time.
I’ve just stubbed out my smoke with the heel of my boot, when her long silky hair fills my vision. She’s standing at the front door, talking to somebody inside, her back to me.
Turn ‘round. Turn ‘round.
I don’t want her to notice me, cuz I don’t wanna screw with her head, but I just wanna see her face.
Dealer brushes past her then and ruffles her hair. She slaps his arm and he laughs as he makes his way down the steps carrying a box marked FRAGILE. I see him start getting heavy handed explaining shit ‘bout the box to one of the movers.
And that’s when she finally turns.
Christ, she’s fucking beautiful. I can see those mesmerizing deep blue eyes sparkling from here. And those lips… Jesus… ain’t going there, cuz the idea of tasting her one last time is quickly creeping up on me and I can’t do that shit.
She hurries down the steps and starts giving Dealer shit. It’s a sight to see, a guy as notoriously dangerous as him being told off by a tiny thing like her. And he listens, too. I can tell by his gestures that he’s apologizing. He walks back into the house with his tail between his legs.
Yeah, she’s the ultimate ball buster.
She’s gonna be just fine. Don’t need me with her for that. Independent as hell. Strong. Tough. And she’s smiling. Last time I saw her, she was in a fucking hospital bed, so damn beat up. Couldn’t let that be my last memory of her.
She shifts her weight, turning her body slightly.
And that’s when I see it.
On her right arm.
Covering the scar on her shoulder.
Another tattoo.
Fuck me. I can’t believe it.
There, staring back at me, is a rising bright orange sun surrounded by black thorns.
It’s her and me.
Us.
She’s the sun and I’m obviously the black thorns.
I’m gonna lose my shit here. Jesus fucking Christ.
One of the movers calls to her and she spins.
And freezes.
Shit.
I watch her draw in a breath.
Then she very slowly turns her head.
And she looks right at me.
The look on her face rips right through me.
Pure fucking delight. Her whole face lights up.
My heart hurts just knowing this is the last time
I’ll ever see that look on her face. The last time I’ll ever be the cause of that look.
And then she waves and all that pain disappears, leaving a warmth in its place that I ain’t felt since I walked away from her.
I raise my hand and wave back.
We stand staring at one another in silence for the longest time.
But then she moves forward towards the gates and I know she’s gonna start down the driveway towards me.
Can’t let that happen.
If I touch her I dunno if I’ll be able to walk away this time.
I step back and she stops.
Clenching my fists and making myself do what no part of me wants to do, I lift my chin at her…and then I turn away.
Walk. Walk now.
I got no idea how I manage it, but I do.
I walk and I keep walking, remembering the consequences for her if I don’t.
The further away I get, the more my good sense returns.
I ain’t safe for her.
I gotta keep walking.
And I gotta let her go.
By the time I make it back to my bike, my entire body’s shaking.
I take a few seconds to catch my breath and get my shit together.
Then I mount my Harley and gun it.
Time to ride.
Next in the series…
SOULLESS
Black Thorns MC Series
RECKLESS
SOULLESS
BLAMELESS
HEARTLESS
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
COMFORT ZONE.
Copyright © Franca Storm (2014). All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover Design by Franca Storm
Cover images provided by:
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The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed”. Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book”.
Comfort Zone
His greatest challenge.
Her greatest weakness.
A battle between love and fear.
~Daniel~
Fuck to forget.
That’s my golden rule.
Just one taste and I’ve had my fill.
Until her.
She knocks me on my ass.
I want all of her.
But will my demons keep me from her?
Can I risk it all to make her mine?
~Emma~
I’m not normal.
I can’t let them see me.
Being alone is my fate.
Until him.
He makes me want him.
All of him.
But can I step beyond my comfort zone?
Can I risk everything to be with him?
Chapter 1
~Emma~
Oh God. I can’t do this.
I pull my Jeep over to the side of the dirt road.
I’ve made it two minutes into the five-minute drive into the town center. Town center is a bit of a stretch. It’s more like a village. The population sits at a little over two hundred people.
Harlson.
I live on the outskirts, just a few miles away.
The outskirts. Yeah, that’s me. Always on the periphery. Never in the center of anything. Never getting too close.
Safe.
But then there’s the dreaded monthly grocery shop.
Unfortunately, one of the downsides of living in a small town in the middle of nowhere is that you can’t get certain things delivered. Most people would probably enjoy the outing and treat it as a welcome break from the daily isolation of a living situation like mine. But I’m not most people.
I’m not normal.
I’m fucked up.
Most of the time I’m at peace with that. I’ve had thirty long years to accept it.
But then there are days like today where it smacks me over the side of the head. The fact that I can’t be around them.
People.
Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Those are the three loathsome feelings that plague me whenever my issue is staring me in the face. The cold, hard, inescapable truth. It’s only on days like today when I have to leave the safety of my house, that I’m reminded of how messed up I really am and all those awful feelings rise to the surface.
Thankfully, my job allows me to live anywhere. As long as I have an Internet connection, I’m good. I’m a successful published author. It pays the bills. I’m not famous or renowned by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m grateful beyond belief that I managed to get signed to a good publisher and that my books actually sell enough to generate an income that I can live comfortably on. There’s very little else someone like me, with my issues, can do for a living. It’s one of the only careers that doesn’t involve interaction with people on a daily basis. The only interactions I have are with the characters I build within my own head. My imaginative creations. And, unlike in real life, they don’t see me. I see them.
No one I’ve ever met has understood what it’s like to be consumed by this…issue.
The way I see it, if something isn’t tangible or easy to explain, people don’t want to hear about it. Not that I’d be up for talking about it anyway. But still.
I left all those people behind when I moved here a few months ago. I was sick of being pushed into situations that I wasn’t comfortable with, because of the ties I’d made to people. Friends, work colleagues, bosses, boyfriends.
I will never let anyone force me into anything I’m not comfortable with again.
God, back in that awful city, all I’d felt every single day was fear and a complete lack of control over my life. Now, though, I’m in control. And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.
All I need to do now is make it to the damn grocery store.
This is actually my first trip to get groceries. My first trip ever into the town center. I moved here with a stockpile of groceries that have held me over for a long time. But now that dreaded time has finally come.
A light tap on the driver’s side window of my Jeep startles me, making me gasp.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice someone approaching. Shit. I didn’t even hear a car pull up.
And, of course, immediately my mind kick starts my body into freak out mode.
People! People! Hide! Shield yourself!
My hands begin trembling, my palms start sweating. I can feel my neck and wrists itching. The stupid stress rash I always get.
I draw in a deep breath. Yeah, like that ever helps, although everyone always says it does. I call bullshit on that.
I turn to see who my unwanted visitor is.
Holy hell. I was not expecting this.
The guy looks like he’s just stepped out of the pages of GQ, Vanity Fair, or something along those lines. His crisp, black and white, pin-stripe suit looks like it probably cost more than a few of my mortgage payments. I’ve never seen a man fill out a suit so well.
I glance at his arms as he rests them against my car window. His biceps are straining against the confines of his suit jacket, so much so that they look like they could break free any second and rip through the seams and fine stitching.
His business attire is an odd contrast to the prominent stubble along his jawline and his thick, chestnut-brown hair that is wild and shaggy. He really has that whole sexy bed head thing down pat. I’m sure there’s a ton of primping and product that went into perfecting that look.
His eyes are striking. They’re a rich shade of the deepest blue, the likes of
which I’ve never seen before. They’re enthralling. I can rarely ever bring myself to look someone in the eyes for more than a couple of seconds, but his are captivating and I’m actually finding it difficult to look away.
He taps on the window again and an amused grin plays on his lips.
It’s then that I realize I’ve been staring at him. Oh God. Now my anxiety is spiking again. Wait. Where did it go moments ago? It had disappeared for a while, as I’d studied him. I’m shocked. That’s never happened before. No one’s been able to affect my issue like that before, to make me forget it, if only for a moment.
I manage to collect myself and roll down my window. My Jeep is manual through and through and at least a decade old. But it was one of the few vehicles within my price range. I don’t go out much, so I hardly ever drive it, but so far it’s served me well whenever I do. It seems to be a tough old thing.
“Hi,” I eke out to the stranger, hating the nervous waver in my voice. It’s always there.
“Car trouble?” he asks.
God, even his voice is sexy as hell. Deep and commanding with a noticeable rasp.
“Uh…no…thanks. I’m fine,” I say, hoping that will be the end of this awkwardness.
Yes, he’ll get back in his car and be on his way. I glance quickly in the rear-view mirror, oddly curious about what kind of vehicle he drives. I see a slick silver Audi. It seems so out of place on this little dirt road in the middle of nowhere. It would be more suited for the city.
To my surprise, instead of leaving, he rests his elbows on the open window ledge. His arms are now half in and half out of my car. Oh no. What does he want?
“So, if there’s nothing wrong with your car, why are you pulled over on the side of the road?”
Shit. What a loaded question that is and he doesn’t even know it.
“I…uh…I was on my way to pick up some groceries and I…I couldn’t….” What am I saying? I’m about to tell this man about my issue. This complete stranger.