“No. Though she’s young enough. She’s his girlfriend.”
“Oh.”
He looked down into her face, his arm still around her shoulder. He had no urge to move it. Had he ever wanted to hold anyone so? Being this close would normally have him panicking and pushing away.
Taking in her expression, pride filled his chest. She wrinkled her nose, her disdain for the deputy obvious. Damn! He wanted to kiss the tip of that pretty nose.
“Did no one in your commune have a wife and girlfriend?”
“Not that I know of. Though Mr. Houseman has five wives. I guess some people would say he did.”
“Five?” He’d heard about the TV shows where the men had more than one wife, but he thought that was made-up shit.
“Actually, one licensed wife and four common-law wives. They have twelve kids. All under the age of eight,” she said.
“Fuck!” The thought of having that many wives and children horrified him.
“What?”
He shook his head. “How can any man keep five women happy? He’d never get any rest.”
Her body trembled. He looked down again. Hazel eyes twinkled with amusement. That was when he noticed she hadn’t placed her arm around his waist. Good girl. He wasn’t sure if he could have continued to hold her if she had.
“And five women having PMS,” she said with laughter in her voice.
“Shit! I remember how my sister would be a total bitch leading up to that. She would always apologize afterward, but it was crazy.” Cassidy was the best older sister any kid could have. He hadn’t appreciated it at the time.
“I swear we can’t help it.” She smiled. Then her cute forehead wrinkled. “Sister? Where is she now?”
“She moved away.”
“Where to?”
He shrugged. Whenever he thought of his sister a brick landed in his gut. He missed her and worried. She’d visited him several times in prison and sent money to buy the little extras they’d allowed. His sister had a baby boy. That asshole Thorn’s kid. She wouldn’t talk about the man and say where the asshole was hiding. Storm was the worst brother in the world. If he’d been any decent kind of brother, he’d track down that bastard and make him pay child support or marry her. But she was probably better off without the low-down scumbag. After Storm had been released, Cassidy disappeared, sending a note through Speed for him not to look for her.
No man in Cassidy’s life had ever treated her right, including him. So he’d done as she’d asked.
“Storm?”
Snapping out of past regrets, he squeezed Mary Jane for a moment and released her.
“She didn’t want to be found.” He nodded to the clubhouse. “Go on to my room. I’ll come up after I straighten out this Thirty-Second shit.”
She searched his face. “Okay.” With a slight hesitation, she tugged on his sleeve and smiled as if to give him assurance that everything would be fine and then walked away.
Damn, he wanted to follow her. He watched the tempting sway of her hips and the easy stride of those long legs. Only when he was between her legs did he forget all about the club, his dad and sister, and the coward inside himself.
Chapter 11
Storm walked through the main room of the clubhouse. Music from the sound system beneath the TV bombarded his ears. No one looked his way. His gaze searched the faces and the two people he wanted to find were nowhere in sight.
“Damn it to hell! Where’s Speed and Easy?” He pointed toward a prospect handing a beer to a Brother.
“In the basement.” The prospect’s voice trembled as he dropped the beer and then nodded toward the door that led downstairs. With a curse, the Brother looked at his spilled beer and leaned across the bar to whack the prospect in the back of the head.
The musty scent of the rarely used basement nearly smothered him as he walked down the creaky steps. The last time he’d been down there, he’d been high on coke—that was when he learned his lesson about being in control—and not long afterward he’d gone to prison.
The only sound he heard was his own footsteps. Shit, he hoped they hadn’t killed Angel. The last thing they needed was a full-out war with the Thirty-Second. He walked into the center of the open space.
“Fuck, boy. You scared the shit out of us. We thought the Sand’s finest had snuck down here.” Easy released a nervous laugh as he walked from behind stacked boxes.
Angel hung from chains, his face against a wall. The man’s back was covered with bloody stripes.
In Easy’s hand was a coaxial cable with nickel-plated connectors still attached. Only no one would be able to tell the original color as they were coated a deep red. Blood. Angel’s blood.
Storm locked his knees to keep from bending over and throwing up. His back itched with remembered punishments from when he was a kid.
“Put the cable down, Easy.” If the old man kept pushing, Storm would be forced to take him down. He squeezed his fists tight, forcing them to remain at his side.
Speed stepped from the shadows with his top two men. “Do as he says. We haven’t gotten anything out of this bastard in the last half hour, I doubt he’d tell us anything.”
“What the hell are you beating him with the cable for? The last I heard you wanted retribution for damaging the bikes.” If that had been it, they would’ve brought Angel back upstairs for Razz’s crew to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“We want the name of the driver. We can’t have anyone out there claiming they messed with the Brothers of Mayhem and didn’t receive an ass kicking for it.” Speed’s expressionless face told more than he thought. Storm had learned as Speed’s indifference increased, his lies became bigger.
“You’re not going to get the name of Toro’s supplier,” Storm said.
Speed had been aching to know the person’s name for the last three years, ever since they screwed up and the majority of the Sand County chapters went to prison, including Storm.
“They’ve been getting some prime guns, and we could use that contact. It’s been long enough to get back into the game. The government believes they destroyed the Brothers of Mayhem, but I want to show them they’re full of shit. Kick us down and we’ll get up twice as strong.” Speed slapped his own chest for emphasis. “Several of our old overseas buyers are asking if we have weapons. Sure would be a faster way to make big bucks. None of that penny-ante shit we get for motorcycle parts. Not that we can’t deal with that too.”
Fuck. Speed wanted to send them back to prison and this time for military-grade weapons. Hell. Homeland Security would get involved and that would place them into the traitor to the country deep end of the pool.
If he protested at this point, Speed would get a hard-on to prove who had the bigger balls, and Storm needed the other Brothers to vote his way when it came time. Speed would have to hold church to vote on dealing with weapons along with stolen motorcycle parts.
He needed to protect his Brothers. Prison had taught him that he was nothing without his club. And the Brothers of Mayhem needed him to look after them.
The run to Maggie Valley would be the perfect time to talk with his chapter. Then if he convinced enough of them, they could in turn talk with the other chapters. Razz would help. The man had several under-the-table projects going on and preferred to keep a low profile. If they moved into guns, that would be blown to hell for sure. Besides, anything Speed wanted, Razz would gladly oppose.
Ignoring Easy’s complaining, Storm and Speed’s men helped unchain Angel from the wall. They stretched him out on his stomach across an old cot left downstairs for drunks to crash on.
Storm wished they could just let Toro’s men come and pick up his cousin, but once they got a glimpse of the man’s face and back, anything Storm said would be for nothing. He needed a little bit of time to figure out how to handle this. When they returned from the run, he would have it worked out in his mind.
“Venom, pick a prospect to stay with you to guard Angel. Keep him down here. Get your old
lady to come and doctor his back.” Venom’s wife was a nurse and knew how to keep her mouth shut. “Be sure nothing else happens to him. We need him healthy.”
“Okay, boss.”
Storm could tell the Brother hated missing out on the run, but he’d do as he was told. Besides, his old lady was expecting, and her last pregnancy hadn’t gone too smoothly. Venom needed to be there in case she went into labor.
Speed and his men trudged up the stairs as Storm remained to check on the chains holding down Angel to the bed. Fixed to the wall and threaded around the legs of the cot, the chains were loose enough not to cut into his wrists or ankles.
“I never imagined that I raised a fucking pussy.”
Straightening to his full height and turning around to face his old man, Storm glared down. It was a good feeling to be almost a head taller than the asshole who got his rocks off beating on a kid. He grabbed the front of the old man’s shirt and lifted him to his toes. Easy swung an uppercut into his stomach.
“Umph!” He wanted to hurl. The old man had a mean right. His hand opened, letting Easy go and pushing him away. “You lowdown bastard,” he said hoarsely.
“You’re a piece of shit I should’ve strangled when you were born,” Easy spewed in obvious delight. “They said you bawled liked a baby when they fucked you good at Holman. They had to stuff your underwear in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”
Another fist gutted him. More than physical pain stung. What kind of father would take pleasure from his son’s trauma?
Easy held him up and whispered in his ear, “I told them to fuck you at every opportunity. That you’d like it. That you were nothing but a pussy waiting for a real man’s dick.”
Blackness engulfed him as he began swinging. He felt pleasure in how his fist landed on cartilage. Hopefully, he’d busted the old man’s nose.
Not until hands seized his arms and pulled him off the limp body beneath him, did he realize he’d gone off the deep end. He’d been on his knees hitting the old man’s face over and over again.
He began to shake all over.
Since leaving prison, he’d thought he had a rein on his temper. The brawls he’d participated in were nothing but a release valve. He’d been in control. Then the old man stepped back into his life and pushed the right button.
Storm’s first few months in Holman had been hell. They had either beaten or fucked him each night, and at times they did both. When he reached his limit, he’d stabbed their leader. The authorities hit him with a couple more stretches of incarceration. What was to be eight months turned into three years. When the old man had said to his face that he’d ordered the beatings and rapes, Storm had lost it. Until that moment, he’d believed being young and unprotected caused him to be targeted. Because he hadn’t been a full-fledged Mayhem Brother, he’d had no one inside to defend him.
The man who had provided part of his DNA was a sicker fuck than Storm had ever thought to be in this lifetime.
Pain burst across one cheek and then the other.
“Storm! Snap out of it!” Speed raised his hand to slap him again.
Pulling out of his near catatonic state, he blinked until his eyes cleared. “What?” Storm asked as he clasped the front of Speed’s shirt.
“Get your shit together. Go upstairs and fuck that fine piece of pussy waiting for you. That will make you feel better. We’ll leave around lunchtime tomorrow.”
“Did you hear what that ass-wipe said?” Pain and despair filled each word. “What he did to me?” A coppery taste filled his mouth, and he spit out blood from his lacerated lip.
“We all have crosses to bear. Don’t worry. No one else heard. Go and prove you’re still a man with some prime pussy. Go!” Speed pushed Storm toward the stairs.
He stumbled away, barely noticing Speed helping Easy off the floor.
Reaching the stairway to the bedrooms, he stopped and leaned against the wall. Light-headed, he groaned and pressed his palms to his temples. What kind of bastard would set up his own son to be raped? Nausea roiled with his dark memories. His arms ached as he remembered the cruel way they’d held him down. He looked at his wrists. No bruises. The external damage was gone a long time ago.
Inside, the devastation remained, eating away at his soul, his humanity. Everyone expected him to be the same person who entered Holman. A young boy excited to be part of the club. The Brothers of Mayhem had been the closest thing to a family that he’d ever known.
Tinny voices from a TV show drifted down to Storm.
Mary Jane waited in his room.
Mary Jane, the woman he couldn’t get enough of. Every time he sank into her, he’d lost a little piece of himself. He wanted to lose all of himself in her. Then maybe he would heal from the inside out.
All of that sounded crazy, but that was how being with her felt. He leaned his forehead to the wall.
Her presence alone soothed the misery suffocating him each day. He hadn’t even known that he needed her to forget the nightmare he’d lived. Having his cock in her helped him forget, helped him feel like a man again. The horror faded and each time he felt less and less like he would throw up.
—
The door slammed against the wall, and Mary Jane jumped. Flustered, she looked around, and her surroundings brought her back to the present. After washing up, she’d drifted off in his recliner.
Her gaze stopped on Storm, shocked by his wild appearance. Hair mussed and chest heaving, he held on to the doorway as if for support. His pale face and swollen lip alerted her that something dreadful had transpired.
Pushing off the recliner, she stepped toward him, tugging his Brothers of Mayhem T-shirt over her hips. The back of her fingers touched bare legs. Crap! She should’ve put her jeans back on.
She asked, “Are you okay?”
Her hand reached out. Would he let her comfort him this time?
He dipped his head and moved out of reach, watching her every movement like a rabid dog waiting for an attack. One large hand rubbed his stomach. His bloody knuckles caught her attention. Who had he fought with?
Keeping still, she spoke softly. “Storm, what happened?” Her hand fell to her side.
Funny how she worried more about upsetting him than any danger he presented to her.
No sooner had she had that thought than he stalked over and pushed her backward until her calves hit the bed railing. She squeaked in surprise. Not that he was hurting her. The sorrow in his eyes welled up an answering sadness in her chest. He needed something from her, and she was willing to give it to him. He gave her another shove, and she landed on the mattress. She remained staring up at him, not struggling, her hands limp above her head, showing her cooperation. The T-shirt rested above her hips, exposing her underwear. His fingers hooked beneath the elastic of her panties and jerked them off.
The heated look in his eyes warned her not to challenge his actions. Whatever happened, it had caused him to seek her out. She wanted to help. Even if it was mindless sex that he needed. How could she reject him? Her body was ready. That was one thing she realized in the short time they’d been together. He could just walk into a room and she would get wet and hot.
Unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock, he nodded toward her. “Spread your legs wide. Wider.” As soon as she complied, he sank in with one long slide deep inside. “Fuck.” His chest rose and fell. “Why does it feel so extra good with you?” he asked. She felt he really didn’t expect an answer.
She groaned, loving how he filled her. His cock slid in and out, filling her with a delicious friction. Her fingers itched to touch him.
His eyes closed with a blissful expression, and he arched his neck, leaning his head back. For a few seconds he held her hips, not moving, except for the pulse in his jugular vein. Then his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He looked at her with such a deep yearning. Then he took a deep breath and began to thrust, pounding into her.
What was that look? She needed to know, but for the momen
t, his forceful thrusting erased all thoughts from her brain.
He pulled out to the tip and slammed back in. Her body shook and his cock glistened with moisture when he did it again. This was Storm, the man who fascinated her beyond any common sense.
His eyes squeezed closed, and he returned to a faster stroke. In and out in a smooth rhythm. She wondered if he even knew she was there. She wanted more, wanted his bare chest rubbing hers, to suck his cock again and run her hands over his body.
As he thrust into her, she raised up her hips, hoping to hurry along what she wanted. Her body clamored for completion. She needed to touch him to make it happen.
“Be still,” he demanded, his voice husky with need as he slapped her thigh. She gasped as her hunger for what Storm could provide skyrocketed.
He continued to pound into her. She began to feel like a blow-up doll. He could fondle her but not the reverse. She struggled in his grasp. Her fingers itched to travel across his flesh. His hands tightened. Why wouldn’t he let her move? Did he think she wanted to escape his hold?
“I want to touch you,” she said. No sooner than the words were out, he pulled out and stepped away from the bed. “Don’t go.” She reached out.
Upset by his retreat, she watched, wide-eyed with concern. Fury reddened his face. Whatever fight he’d gotten into earlier had rattled him, and he was determined to find his center with her.
“Stay,” he said in a guttural tone, and he walked into the bathroom.
Her eyes narrowed. Stay? Like a dog? She bit the side of her mouth. Fine. He’d better come back and rock her world. Goodness sakes! She had to admit his rough handling excited her.
Without a sound, he’d returned. He stood next to the bed. Naked. Completely naked.
Oh. My. God. Her gaze slowly caressed every gorgeous manly muscle and more.
So far, every time they’d had sex, he’d had all of his clothes on. Whatever caused him to change his mind, she was glad.
Tattoos covered his torso and upper arms. From his broad chest to narrow hips, he was every woman’s dream. Power quivered in each muscle. His muscular legs—damn—down to his long, sexy feet emphasized his maleness as every inch of his hard, glistening cock finished the mind-blowing picture. She wanted so badly to lick, suck, touch, and bite him.
Full Heat: A Brothers of Mayhem Novel Page 10