Storm

by Jo Raven

  Then again, my head is clearer today, and my arm doesn’t feel as if someone is chewing it from the inside. Sure, showering and getting dressed without wetting the sling and the bandage on my leg was a bitch, even with Raylin’s help.

  But what the hell. That’s nothing compared to what’s up ahead. Somewhat bigger things, like meeting the Chinese mafia, make this morning’s troubles seem like a child’s worries.

  Raylin fairly vibrates with tension as we climb out of the chopper and into the car waiting for us. Hawk has arranged for everything, which rocks. Yesterday I was pretty much useless.

  “Thank you, man,” I tell him when he takes his place riding shotgun as we’re off.

  “What for?”

  “Doing all this. For me, and for her.”

  He tsks. “She’s your girl. Can’t let anything happen to her. She’s family now.”

  I pretend not to see how her face goes from open-mouthed to smiling, and then she hides it against the window.

  Damned Hawk. A heart of gold in that guy.

  True to their word, the lawyers pulled strings—strings I’m not even sure I wanna know about—and have a briefcase full of money ready for me. Mr. Shin is the one holding it, his face dark as a thundercloud. Excellent first impressions for the heir and new head of Jordan Enterprises, huh?

  And this is just the beginning.

  Hawk steps out and retrieves it before I as much as open the door and returns to the car. “Let’s go,” he barks at his driver, and we’re off once more.

  “Where?”

  “Suburbs.”

  “Where, Hawk?”

  Despite my gratitude, it grates that he has full control of this operation. Especially when he doesn’t reply. Okay, it’s his operation basically—his man setting this up and making sure this works out.

  Still.

  Fuck.

  The gun hidden under my dress jacket, in a back-holster, does little to set my mind at ease.

  We meet up with Hawk’s man behind a run-down fast-food joint. Hawk rolls down his window and asks him where the meeting will take place.

  I stare at the guy through my closed window. There’s nothing remarkable about him. He’s not shabbily dressed, but not well-dressed, either. Clean T-shirt, dark jeans, black shoes. Shaved. Short hair.

  Nothing to show he’s involved with the triad.

  Then again, neither is Raylin. Or Hawk, who obviously has important ties to it. Need to ask him about that.

  Meanwhile, the man points at the main street and Hawk rolls up his window.

  And we’re off again.

  I’ve taken the sling off and my arm aches. But no weakness, remember. So my cast is snug in the sleeve of my dress jacket.

  Raylin’s hand clenches around mine as we roll down the main street, and I resist the urge to put my arms around her. Not the time to show any weakness. We don’t know who might be watching.

  We stop at the mouth of another alley with a flickering lamp post shedding yellow light, and Hawk throws his door open. Following his lead, we follow suit and step out of the car which drives a few yards away and rolls to a halt, waiting for us.

  Broken glass crunches under my shoes. I scowl at the dirty alley. A set-up. Has to be.

  Need to trust Hawk to get us out of this alive.

  Three bulky guys stalk toward us, Asian eyes, black leather and beefy arms. Awesome. They take their time reaching us, talking to each other, laughing over something. It sets my teeth on edge.

  I’m ready for just about anything bad to happen as they come closer and the jut of gun handles in their belts become visible.

  I feel the gun in the back holster, pressing into my ribs. I see Raylin reach for the belt strapped to the small of her back and stop herself.

  Hawk only smirks and opens his hands. “Evening, guys.”

  One of the men lifts his chin and steps in front of the others. My hands twitch, almost reaching for my gun when he grabs Hawk’s arm.

  But it’s a greeting, apparently. Not an attempt at murder. The guy steps back again, and I glare at him.

  Christ.

  Then he turns to Raylin, and my hackles rise again. “Raylin O’Brien. We meet again.”

  Wait. Again?

  “Who are you?” she asks, her voice steady, and yeah, that’s my girl. So strong. “Have we met before?”

  “Sure we have.” He shrugs off his leather jacket, and damn this guy’s gonna give me a heart attack. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath, and even in the dim light I can see the scar of a gunshot in his shoulder. “Wanna touch it?”

  My arm twinges in sympathy. Then my brain catches up.

  This is the man she shot. Goddammit.

  Hawk thrusts an arm in front of me, as if knowing I’m about to launch myself at the guy, push Raylin behind me and take on the whole triad, if need be.

  “We hunted you for two years,” the man says. “I hunted you. You were scared.”

  Raylin glances at me, then at Hawk. No weakness. That’s what we talked about.

  But she nods. “I was. Very scared.”

  The man grins widely, showing a missing incisor. “Good. I’ll have that satisfaction, at least. And the money.”

  Hawk turns to the car, takes out the briefcase with the cash and hands it over to him. “You can count it. It’s all there.”

  The guy is still staring at Raylin as he grabs the bag, his dark eyes glinting. “This was your dad’s doing. He started it. You finished it.” He nods at me and Hawk. “Managed to hide from us. Got strong allies.”

  Raylin cocks her head to the side, dark hair catching a hint of gold in the flickering light. “And your point is?”

  She might have said she was afraid before, but there’s no sign of fear on her face, her posture. Never was, since we arrived.

  “Your dad was a coward. But you…” He tsks. “If you want to do business, Ms. O’Brien, we could talk.”

  My blood freezes. Is he actually talking about dealing with the triad? The sort of shit that got my family killed and had Raylin on the run?

  “Step down, tiger,” Hawk mutters, patting my good shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

  “Mr. Hawk.” The man turns to him. The other two guys remain still and silent behind him. “Have a nice evening.”

  I expect them to pull a gun. I expect more men to step out of the shadows.

  But that doesn’t happen. The three of them turn and walk away, the briefcase full of cash the last thing I see before they vanish in the shadows.

  “Storm…” Raylin’s voice is thin. A hard shiver goes through her as her brave façade falls apart.

  “I’ve got you, babe.” I haul her to me with my good arm, hold her securely around the waist, fitting her against my side. “Everything’s fine.”

  It’d better be.

  RAYLIN

  I’m shaking. Literally shaking, muscles twitching, my joints like rubber. I can barely stand, and I’m thankful for Storm’s arm around me, holding me upright as the triad members walk away.

  Is this over? Is it possible?

  Storm’s hold on me is solid, strong. He’s here. Paid off my debt. Offered his protection. He really did it, really saved my life.

  He leads me back to the car and slides inside after me, drops a kiss on my forehead and whispers, “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I am. Have to be. Because it’s done. Over. Finished.

  I’m alive.

  Hawk climbs in and we’re leaving. “High fives all around!” He leans back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “This was a tricky one to pull. Good job, team.”

  “We’re not your team,” Storm snarls, and I shiver harder at the anger in his voice. Why is he angry? Isn’t he happy this is over?

  “Relax.” Hawk opens the glove compartment and pulls out something. A metallic box full of cigars that he offers to Storm.

  “No, thank you. You deal with the triads? For real, Hawk?” Storm shifts on the backseat, trying to stretch his leg, but there isn’t en
ough space. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “You seriously asking me this?”

  “An idealist through and through, huh?” Hawk says, glancing over his shoulder at us. “Sorry to break it to you, Stormy boy, but in this business you have to get your hands dirty.”

  “Like your daddy did?”

  Hawk winces and straightens in his seat, staring ahead as we cruise through the town. “No, not like my dad. Dammit.”

  “You sure you know the difference?”

  “Yeah, I am sure. Are you?”

  Silence stretches. Storm wraps me again in his arms and his warmth seeps into me, calming the shivers.

  “This could bite you in the ass,” Storm says eventually.

  “Sounds like fun,” Hawk replies drily, and that’s the end of their conversation. We drive to the outskirts of the city, stop at a helipad and—surprise, surprise—a chopper is there, waiting for us.

  I’m actually not as surprised as I’d normally be, and I don’t know if it’s the lingering shock from having faced my nightmare and lived to tell the story, or because I’m already getting used to this. Having cars and choppers and people at our beck and call at all times.

  So this is what it feels like, being so rich. Not having money, cash overflowing from your pockets. You never see the money. But it pours into the huge, well-oiled machine that is your life, making things happen at a snap of your fingers.

  I look at Storm as we take off, at the shadows on his handsome face, in his eyes, and think of what’s yet to come. That well-oiled machine can turn around and swallow you down at any moment, it seems, and the only thing that can save you is people you trust.

  And Storm trusts me. I hope he knows I’m there for him, like he was for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  STORM

  “It’s a monster,” Rook says, standing by the glass doors leading to the pool, a dark shadow. His arm is in a sling. “This Organization. Has tentacles fucking everywhere.”

  “What have you found out?” I shift on the sofa, stretching out my leg. Both he and Hawk have been morose and quiet, drinking scotch and smoking, hanging out at Hawk’s estate house.

  Waiting for the police.

  They won’t tell me how they intend to play this, where they vanished to last night.

  A night I spent twisted in the covers, caught in nightmares. It was so bad, at some point I left the bed to let Ray sleep. I’m goddamn worried—that the triad will change their mind, that the letter we found won’t be proof enough to stop the Organization from gunning us down.

  A monster.

  “What are they involved in?” I ask again, because both Rook and Hawk are ignoring me. “Rook. Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  “Don’t know, man. Too much.” He glances at Hawk who shrugs.

  What the fuck. “So what now, you’re gonna keep me in the dark? Think that will protect me from something? Fuck you.”

  “You’re hurt, man,” Hawk says and pours himself another scotch. “You got to take it easy.”

  “Easy?” I rub my good hand over my face. “You serious?”

  He toasts me with his glass. He is serious.

  Fuck.

  “You.” I jab a finger at him, my pulse booming in my ears. He’s gonna give me heart problems, I swear. I’m glad Ray’s upstairs, taking a shower, and not here, not listening to us. “You and Rook have put your lives in danger for me these days. Rook got hurt.” I nod at his sling, a match for mine. “You had to meet with the triad for me. Now you’re trying to bring down the Organization—for me. To stop them from killing me, not because they threatened you, and they’re your parents, and—”

  “Storm.” Hawk lifts a hand. “Shut up, bro. You’d have done the same for us, and besides… The Organization has to be stopped.” He sighs, mouth a thin line. “They’ve killed people, dude. Your parents, your uncle, tried to get you, too, and others. This can’t go on. I won’t let it.”

  Rook nods and turns to face us. His eyes burn with anger. “You don’t need to know more about the Organization because we’ll bring it to its knees.”

  Yeah, okay. Damn, I wish I could have a drink. I wish I could keep them safe.

  “You be careful, yeah?” I glare at them, hoping they take this seriously. “Whatever it is you did last night and will do today.”

  “Yes, junior.” Hawk nods. “We will. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. We have a plan.”

  “That’s what worries me.” I look at Rook who’s rubbing the back of his neck. “What sort of plan?”

  “You’ll see when the police are here. I think—” He stops and stares at the door. “It’ll work out, Storm.”

  “Has to,” Hawk says, and I turn to see what they’re both looking at.

  Raylin. She smiles uncertainly, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

  “What you need to do,” Rook says, “is take care of yourself and your girl, you hear me? Leave this to us. Everything will be fine.”

  God, I want to believe them, to hope it’s over. Can’t imagine what this story will cost them, how they’ll cope if their dads are proven to be members of the Organization. What will happen to their families.

  But it’s too late now for regrets. There is no other way, and I’m fucking glad to be alive, and with my girl.

  When Raylin comes to me, I pull her by my side and curl my good arm around her. She smells of sweet soap and freshness.

  “Thank you, guys,” I whisper. “For everything.”

  RAYLIN

  It all happens so fast. We’re staying at Hawk’s estate out of town, and two detectives come to talk with Hawk, Rook and Storm. I thought I’d stay away from this, but Storm looked pale and tired, his broken arm back in the sling, and I couldn’t leave the room. Then he reached for me, and it was settled.

  I’m staying. I watch the proceedings from the sofa, my hand on the thick muscle of Storm’s thigh, feeling it bunch up and release as he talks about his parents, his uncle, the attempts on his life, the letter.

  The tattoos and the Organization. All that ink. Phoenixes, roses and snakes biting their tails. Circles in circles.

  The detectives lose their color a little as they listen. One of them excuses himself to make a phone call.

  “We’ve known about the Organization for years,” the other detective says, a gray-haired man with a scar marking one cheek. “We knew about the Phoenix tattoos, but not about the leaders. We don’t have evidence about the attacks on you, and no direct link between your father,” he turns to Hawk, “and the death of the Jordans.”

  “So now what?” Storm’s blue eyes are dark. “They get away with it?”

  “My father and I,” Hawk mutters, the first words he has spoken since the arrival of the police. He taps the armrest, gray eyes flickering with thought. “We always got along well.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and I wish I could give him a hug. “I went and paid him a visit last night. It was interesting.”

  “What did you do?” Storm is frowning. “Dammit, Hawk.”

  “I confronted him.” Hawk shrugs his broad shoulders, stretching the material of the blue shirt he’s wearing. “Told him I knew everything. He confessed.”

  “But your word isn’t enough, sir,” the detective says. “He can deny it.”

  “Not if I managed to record everything.”

  Storm opens his mouth to say something, when Rook cuts in.

  “Make that two confessions.” He lifts his cell phone, face set in angry lines. “My father confessed, too, when I told him I wanted in. He was proud of me. Proud.” He spits out the last word. “He confessed to offing Tony Jordan, Storm’s uncle. Hope that’s enough to land him in jail.”

  “Should. Should be,” the detective stammers. “Hey, Wilson.” He gestures at the other detective who’s still on the phone. “Come here and call this in. We need back up. About to do a couple of arrests.”

  “Will the evidence hold?” Rook asks. “Even if they didn’t know they
were being recorded? Or does that only work in the movies?”

  “We’ll make it work,” the detective says grimly. “We’ll take the Organization down. Oh boy, this is like Christmas.”

  I’d laugh at his eagerness, but the expressions on Storm, Hawk and Rook’s faces are dark. I expected them to be sad, but they look worried, instead.

  I wait until the detectives are gone to ask why.

  “I understand that it’s hard,” I say to Storm as I lead him to the bedroom Hawk has given us. “No matter how angry I am at my dad, I wouldn’t want him going to jail.”

  “That’s not it,” he says, voice laced with exhaustion as he sits down on the bed.

  “Then what?”

  “Something as big and powerful as the Organization won’t shut down because two of its leaders are arrested. It won’t fucking happen.”

  “But now you know about it. About the Organization, about the murder of your parents and uncle. You know everything. No reason to try and kill you anymore.”

  “Yeah.” He flashes me a smile, faint but real. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” I inform him and sit beside him, so I can wrap my arms around him and kiss him. “That’s why you like me.”

  “No, baby.” He kisses me back, breathless. “I like you because you’re the right one for me.”

  ***

  The arrest of the two leaders of the Organization is spectacular. We watch it on the news. A small army surrounds the two middle-aged men as they are led to the police station in handcuffs.

  We’re sitting in a hotel suite in Madison, Wisconsin. We’re here to visit Megan, my friend who I left without any explanation a couple of months ago. I’m nervous about meeting her and couldn’t even bring myself to call her first.

  Storm thought waiting here for the arrest of the leaders and for the dust to settle was as good as anywhere else.

  So here we are, drinking chilled white wine even though the weather outside is turning chilly. It’s cozy and warm inside, warm enough in fact we’re both in underwear, and Storm has been trying to get mine off even though his arm is in the sling and his leg in a bandage, still.

  I laugh at the expression on his face when I pull away from him again to sip at my wine.