Storm (Bad Boys of X-Ops #3)

by Rie Warren

Shiiiit.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ground Zero

  A FIERY RAGE STOKED inside me when I saw her being manhandled.

  My jaw bulged as I slowly rose to my feet. “I think you better let her go.” My hand immediately went to my Sig.

  After exchanging a look with Venom, Slade released Blaize, and she stumbled forward.

  She wisely kept her mouth shut.

  This could just be a routine digging expedition from Venom.

  Either that or we’d been made.

  I eased back into my seat, every muscle in my body locked tight and ready to lunge. Another chair was brought up, and Blaize sat across from Venom.

  “I don’t appreciate the rough treatment,” she spat out.

  Venom took something from his pocket and slipped it between the palms of his hands. “Well, if you don’t start showing some respect for your menfolk, the treatment gonna get a whole lot rougher.”

  “She respects me just fine.” I cut in.

  “I still think we need to discuss the lady we welcomed so easily,” he said.

  “Is this really Legion business?” I punched back in my chair, scowling.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I think we might haveta conduct another test of your loyalty, Storm.”

  With those words it became very clear to me something real fucking bad was headed our way.

  Venom revealed the item he’d held hidden in his hands. He lifted up the white square of plastic.

  Blaize’s driver’s license.

  I breathed slowly out through my flaring nostrils. That was a fake. Venom had nothing on Blaize.

  “Blaize Campbell.” He spun the license on the table. “Now see here? I did some searching. Told you I have those LEO connections. Tried to get some info on you, Blaize, and I got zip.” His eyes lifted, and he stared directly at Blaize who didn’t flinch or flake out. “Could be you’re a government-issued bitch.”

  “C’mon, Venom. That’s fucking bogus, man. I’m not about to shack up with Jane E. Law.” I remained cool, trying to deescalate the situation, but the truth was this situation was already way out of control.

  Blaize spoke up. “The only law I know is the one I’m running from. Just like a lot of you, no goddamn doubt. How do you think I got so good at shooting?” She snatched the license back. “And this? It’s a fake. Obviously.”

  Venom looked momentarily amused, but that didn’t mean he was gonna back down. “What’s your real name?”

  “Blaize Carmichael. And guess what? You won’t find anything under that tag either. I have an excellent man who deals in papers.”

  I almost swallowed my tongue when she gave him her real ID, but she was right. When she’d first come onto the T-Zone scene, Justice had done a hack job on her. He was a fucking expert, and even what he’d found amounted to jack shit. She would’ve been smart enough to erase every last trace of herself from the internet before giving a crime lord like Venom her full name anyway.

  “Then we’re at an impasse.” Venom motioned for Burn to lay out the little snorting mirror and several lines of cocaine, which he quickly hoovered up his nose.

  I was about ready to jump out of my seat and start unloading bullets.

  After a pinch and a swipe of his nose, Venom shoved the mirror away with his elbow. “Maybe if you let some of the other Legion men get a taste of that sweet pussy you’ve been reserving for Nash here, Blaize Carmichael?”

  All the blood quickly drained from my face before skyrocketing through my veins in boiling rage.

  Blaize snapped her mouth shut and—for the first time—looked absolutely terrified.

  “How the hell is that gonna prove anything?” I snarled.

  No way was I gonna let that shit happen. No. Fucking. Way.

  “If you don’t intervene I figure you’re still one of the brotherhood,” Venom concluded to wild shouts and whistles all around for the new pussy.

  Holy fuck!

  I jumped to my feet, my hand dangerously close to my gun. “Let you rape my old lady? In what fucking lifetime do you think I’d ever let that happen?”

  “And if she does it willingly—” He continued to lay out his plan for a gangbang, but I stood to my full height and shouted right through him.

  “And let a bunch of sweaty thugs grunt on top of her? JESUS CHRIST! Have you lost your freakin’ mind?”

  As my booming voice echoed around the barroom, the dudes who’d lined up against the walls started ringing closer. The air in the room grew motherfucking menacing. I was sure a lot of the crew would give their left nut to fuck Blaize.

  They’d have to get through me first.

  Darting in front her, I pushed her against the wall, keeping her behind my back. Drawing my pistol, I held it down at my side.

  “You’ll have to fight me to get to her. And I’m just letting you know I don’t go down swinging. I go down killing,” I warned.

  The men halted their advance. For a second.

  Then Burn shouted, “First dibs on the redhead slut!”

  The rest of them roared, punching their fists to the air.

  I’d raised my gun, Burn to be my first target, when someone let out a shrill whistle that pierced through the rough sexual insults and slurs slung at Blaize.

  Slade jumped onto the main table and fired into the air.

  He may have just started World War Three. The dudes bristled, turning their shouts toward him—the man who wasn’t even an officer in the Legion.

  I thought the situation had gone from bad to worse, but Slade hopped quickly down with a loose grin on his lips as soon as he had everyone’s attention. He holstered the gun, held up his hands.

  “I’m all for a little sport. But the lady isn’t interested. And we’ve all seen her with a weapon. I wouldn’t wanna get on the wrong side of that kind of hellcat, especially when there are plenty of chicks willing to drop their panties for a ride on any cock here.” He shrugged. “Don’t seem worth it, does it?”

  The amassed sex-thirsty men looked at Venom.

  I kept my vigilant stance, guarding Blaize.

  “Maybe you have a point, Slade,” he conceded.

  My knees nearly buckled, and I felt Blaize curl her fingers into the back of my shirt. Her body convulsed behind me.

  I drew a deep breath, looking around the room of pissed-off potential rapists. There was too much unshed violence, too much unleashed testosterone for it to disappear just like that.

  I knew it.

  Slade knew it.

  Venom, too.

  He stood from his seat, raising his arms wide. “We’re not done yet. Are we?”

  “FUCK NO!” came the resounding shout.

  “Storm’ll have to pay the price.”

  His announcement was met with hollers for my blood, and Blaize whispered, “What are they going to do to you?”

  “We’re gonna jump Storm, my faithful Legion.” Venom cunningly pointed out my two-year disappearing act without saying a word. “He has to take one blow from each member present. And if he makes so much as a sound, if he falls to his knees, if he shows any weakness . . . kill him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Total Impact

  “NO!” BLAIZE GRABBED MY arm.

  “Shhh, cher. This is standard. Done it before.” I pulled away from her.

  She was pale as snow, and she shook her head furiously.

  I leaned down and kissed her softly, murmuring low, “Be quiet. Or we might not make it out of here alive. I got this.”

  After shrugging off my leather cut, I handed it to Blaize. Once again, in the barroom of the Thunder Road, I tugged off my shirt, placed down my weapon, and stood in the central area quickly cleared of tables and chairs.

  “Sit by me, Blaize. I don’t want you to miss a thing,” Venom called out. “Watch, so you remember.”

  She stalked over to him, curling my vest in her arms.

  “Storm’s a big boy. He can take it.” He sneered at my woman as she dropped into the
seat beside him.

  And so the beatdown started.

  They lined up to hit the shit out of me, and I stood there, my body shuddering from the impact of bare fists, my face recoiling from fast strikes.

  One by one, every man in the room got his chance to bloody his knuckles on me without even a single hint of retaliation.

  I counted them all. Seventeen brawl-ready, pissed off, fired up men in all.

  I nodded each time a Legion member stepped up, owning my punishment.

  Hell, I’d let them put a bullet in my brain if it meant Blaize didn’t get raped, so this was child’s play.

  But after a dozen hard-knuckled blows, I started to sway a little.

  Bloody lip. Busted cheek. Gashed ribs. Pummeled nose.

  Check.

  I subsumed the pain in thoughts of the imminent end of this MC. If I could kill a few of them in the process I might just have to do that.

  Blaize made not a sound, keeping her own silence with me.

  I wouldn’t look at her.

  I wouldn’t even let a pained gasp cross my lips.

  Slade slid up. “Take one for the team?”

  Depended whose team he was on.

  I nodded again.

  He showed no mercy, blasting me with a kidney punch that puckered my lips. But I didn’t make a single solitary sound.

  My vision grew bleary from dripping sweat, spatters of blood, my hair hanging in my face.

  Kouto ranged forward. I thrust out my chin in challenge.

  He unsheathed his machete with a macabre grin I could just about make out.

  I didn’t so much as flinch, but that time I heard Blaize’s gasp.

  “Just joking.” Kouto hilted the lethal weapon in his belt.

  Very funny.

  I steeled myself for his blow, needing to remain vertical through just a few more hammer-strikes.

  His punch connected with the badly bruised side of my face and I almost spun around like a top on my heels.

  Almost.

  “That was not a joke,” he gritted out.

  Fuck the machete. His fist was just as lethal.

  I was still seeing stars when Angel approached.

  “I hate you,” he pressed out between thin lips.

  Then he walloped me—goddamn hard—on the discolored meat of my ribs.

  His blow hurt with a pain that was more than physical.

  So much for thinking he might take it easy on me due to the family connection thing.

  Only Venom was left.

  Good thing because I was no longer seeing stars. I was seeing whole motherfucking constellations. Felt like I was in a goddamn planetarium, except for the insistent, throbbing, black-blue-red pain blooming all over my body.

  “Think I’ll sit this one out,” Venom announced.

  Reprieve?

  I doubted it.

  And I was right, because in the next second he invited, “Angel? Be my guest. Have another shot. You deserve it after that secret Storm’s been keeping all these years.”

  I beckoned my brother forward with my fingers bent in his direction.

  Damn if he hadn’t been saving the worst for last.

  He slammed me in the exact same spot. I doubled over, waiting to puke blood, but all that came out were dry retches.

  Kouto shouldered me up before I could collapse—the gauntlet was over.

  Blaize flew at me, her face stricken when she saw the damage close up. I tried to grin, but man, that fucking smarted.

  Pulling my lips to hers, she kissed me gently.

  And I knew it wasn’t for show.

  Angel turned his back on me with a disgusted sound.

  I grabbed his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk about this, Ange.”

  “Fuck you.” He spun away again.

  Venom ambled up beside me, and took me through the crowd to the bar. I kept my arm around Blaize’s waist, unwilling to let her out of my reach for a single second.

  After pouring out three shots of tequila, Venom handed the extra glasses to Blaize and me. Other men filed in behind the bar and started pouring drinks until everyone in the room had one in hand.

  I shrugged back into my leather cut with the Legion colors, pulling it over my bare, bruised chest as blood dripped from my chin. I took a drink, wincing for the first time when the alcohol stung my lips and cut mouth. Turning to face the MC outlaws, I gingerly backhanded my mouth.

  I raised my glass. “TO THE BLOOD LEGION!”

  Bloodthirsty yells swelled throughout the bar—my name in cheers—not for my blood that time. That was the call for the doors to swing open and the room to fill.

  It was my cue to get the fuck out of Dodge before I collapsed in a heap.

  I downed another shot, watching through hooded eyes while Blaize quickly finished hers.

  I prepared to haul my hurtin’ carcass upstairs, but Venom halted me one final time.

  “You can go now.” He slipped me the stack of bills he’d withheld earlier then slapped me on the back. “Rest up, mon vieux. Big trade tomorrow night. Los Reyes de Guerra and the towelheads.” He smiled big. “Don’t forget to sleep with one eye open.”

  Blaize and I just had to make it twenty-four more hours.

  “I usually sleep with both eyes open.” I walked away with Blaize tucked at my side.

  Slade waited by the staircase. “We should talk.”

  I knocked him aside. “Stay out of my fucking way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Breaking Point

  I MANAGED TO STAY upright all the way upstairs then barricaded us inside the room. Locked the door, locked the balcony, checked the bathroom. Blaize—the woman who never so much as flinched—looked like she was holding on by a very thin thread.

  She watched my every move, her arms crossed around herself. Her face pale. Her eyes too wide. Her limbs quaking.

  Taking my gun from its snug spot at the back of my waist, I checked the clip, reloaded it. Walked to my shotgun, and loaded the empty chamber. After rummaging through Blaize’s neatly stowed belongings I located her pistol.

  An operative never fucked with another one’s weapon.

  I held up the sidearm, asking, “You want me to do the honors?”

  Blaize blew out a breath in a single ragged rush. “I’ll do it.”

  She came forward stiltedly, and I placed the Walther in her hand.

  A hand that shook.

  My fingers lighted gently on the side of her face. “You can let me, you know.”

  She shook her downcast head, but her fingers fumbled with the magazine.

  Drawing a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders.

  She looked at me with those big blues so like a summer sky, so wounded right then. “I’ve got it.”

  Ranging behind her, I collapsed into the one chair, ready to pass out. From pain. From worry.

  From relief.

  They’d been about to rape Blaize.

  Fuck.

  I just needed a drink. A smoke.

  I watched Blaize as she made sure her gun was fire-ready, locked and loaded. With her back to me, she seemed to gather herself.

  When she turned around, her gaze flittered to the door. She stalked to it, double checked it, leaned against it with her head thunking back.

  Getting up, I bit down on a low groan. At the rickety little table, I poured two large glasses of whisky. I laced my fingers through Blaize’s and led her to the chair where she sat on my lap. I all but threw my drink down my throat in large, burning gulps.

  Blaize drank quickly, too.

  I lit two smokes, cracked the window, gave her one, and brought her against me.

  She trembled in my embrace.

  My face hurt. My ribs motherfucking smarted. But the feel of Blaize in my arms made it somewhat better, a totally bearable and welcome punishment considering what the alternative had been.

  We tossed out our cigarettes, and I kissed her neck. I drew her hands to my mouth and looked down at her, kissing eac
h fingertip.

  “I was so worried about you.” My voice croaked out.

  Color filled her cheeks—fresh and pink, no longer ghostly. And her eyes—those beautiful irises—softened.

  “Storm . . .”

  My heart chugged in my chest. “Cher.”

  Rising to her feet, she drew me with her. “Let me take care of you.”

  In the bathroom, Blaize stripped me down. Her hands glanced off my skin, my muscles, my hard body as the rest of my clothes fell to the floor under her guidance. She ran warm water in the sink, soaped a washcloth.

  I peered down at her as she dabbed the blood from my chest, my ribs, my face. She softly kissed each bruise, and her eyelashes fluttered against me, small tickles that combined with her moist breath on my skin.

  After rinsing the cloth and setting it aside, she opened her medkit.

  It felt like she was wringing every emotion from me one touch at a time.

  I held still, barely breathing as she worked over me. Worked me over.

  I was so attuned to her I felt every touch like a ripple on my flesh, a wave in the ocean.

  She swabbed me with alcohol and prodded the deepest cuts.

  Her mouth brushed my neck. “Do you want stitches?”

  I turned to the mirror, having a hard time taking my eyes off her.

  The worst was on my left cheek, and one laceration jagged against my ribs.

  They’d heal. I’d have scars. These wounds weren’t the worst.

  “I’d rather have kisses.” Leaning down, I touched my mouth to hers.

  Her tongue snaked out and she lifted up to her toes, coiling her hands around my neck.

  I drew her up against me, holding her firmly to me.

  My lips parted from the wet tangle of hers to find the pulse point at her neck. “Merde. Blaize. That was fucking goddamn close.”

  She cried out against me, “God, Storm! I thought they’d kill you.”

  “Me?” I knocked my head back and stared at her. “You, Blaize. I thought they were really gonna rape you.”

  I lifted her up and carried her to the bed. “Never been so shit-scared in my life.”

  Rasping my hand down my face, I sat beside her. I rubbed a hand up and down her back, and she started to shake harder. Stark tears rained down her face as she curled over on herself.