Sydney Storm MC Complete Series

by Levine, Nina

  “Do you feel like bacon and eggs?” I asked when he joined me in the kitchen.

  He gave me a look as if I’d asked him the dumbest question in the world. “I always feel like bacon and eggs.”

  I grinned, loving his easy mood. Loving the place we’d gotten to after talking about my fear of failing again.

  While he settled his ass on the stool at the breakfast bar, I grabbed the bacon and eggs from the fridge, and caught him up on what was going on with the kids next week.

  Since he’d moved in with us, he’d involved himself in every aspect of my children’s lives. King was more hands-on than Linc was or ever had been. Linc talked up his fathering skills, but his actions didn’t always match his talk, especially since he’d started dating his current girlfriend. King, on the other hand, spent more time doing and less time talking. Something he’d initiated, that I cherished, was our Sunday talk about what everyone had on over the next week. Together we came up with a plan for how to tackle it all.

  “I can get Robbie to karate on Tuesday afternoon if Linc can’t,” he said after I told him I wouldn’t be finished work in time to do it. “But getting Zara to her maths tutoring could be hard. I can have one of the boys take her if you’re good with that.”

  I’d just finished cooking our breakfast and slid his plate across to him with, “I love you, and yes, that’s good with me.”

  Taking the seat next to him, I started telling him that the girls wanted me to go out with them next Saturday night. Monroe had found a new club she wanted us to check out. “I know I don’t usually go out with the girls on the weekends the kids are here, but—”

  “You can’t next weekend.”

  “Have you got something on?”

  He looked at me. “We’re bringing the wedding forward. To next weekend.”

  “Huh?”

  “Next Saturday, Lily.”

  I blinked, confused by what he said. Putting my knife and fork down, I held up my hand. “Okay, stop, because I could swear you just said we’re getting married next Saturday. And that’s some crazy talk because there is no way I will be ready for this wedding in a week.”

  He shovelled bacon into his mouth with a nod. “You will be ready because it is happening. In a week.”

  I stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? What’s the rush?”

  He finished eating and pushed his plate away before turning to face me. “I don’t want to wait any longer. And also, I’m fairly fucking sure that if you spend another three weeks thinking and planning, you’re going to send both of us fucking crazy.”

  “Well you can’t just make this decision on your own. I need a say—”

  His phone sounded with a text and he swore as he read it. Then, looking at me, he said, “I’ve gotta go. I’m hoping this won’t be an all-day thing again, but it might be.”

  “King, we haven’t finished talking about the wedding.”

  We can’t bring the wedding forward.

  I don’t have a dress.

  Or a venue.

  And we still haven’t decided on the reception.

  He is freaking mad thinking I can make this happen in a week.

  One freaking week!

  The man has some wild ideas sometimes, but this one takes the freaking cake.

  When he didn’t respond, I repeated myself. “King! We need to finish this discussion. The wedding—”

  His mood shifted. No longer easy, his intensity returned. “Think about it today. We’ll discuss it more tonight.”

  I stared at him, my mind spinning out of control over this. There were a million things I wanted to say to him, but I knew he’d shut down on our conversation. His mind had already latched onto whatever it was he had to go and take care of. So I took a deep breath and forced all my thoughts back into their box until later when he’d be focused on us again.

  As he moved off the stool, I placed my hand on his arm and stopped him. I wanted to bring up Wolf with him before he left. “I don’t know if this is something I should tell you or not, but I spoke with Cherie yesterday and she told me that Wolf’s feeling some pressure at the moment.”

  “We’re all feeling some fucking pressure at the moment, Lily.” His voice turned hard, causing me to doubt that this was a conversation we should even be having. But I’d heard something in Cherie’s voice yesterday that made me feel it was.

  “I know, but I think something’s going on with him. Cherie seems stressed out. Maybe you should just check in on him or something.”

  He stood and looked down at me with an expression that would send most away. “This isn’t your concern. And Cherie knows fucking better than to make it your concern.” Bending, he brushed his lips over mine and then said, “I’ll see you later.”

  Clearly I’d overstepped. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  * * *

  After King put me on the spot about bringing the wedding forward, I called Tatum and told her I needed her right fucking now to help me work through it all in my head. Out of all the girls, she was the practical one who was good in situations I wasn’t. I would get lost in my emotions. She could separate the facts from the emotions and guide me.

  She told me to give her an hour and then she’d be on her way. She also told me to call the others in case they could get to me sooner. “Your crazy is already hitting,” she’d said. “I can hear it from here. Hopefully someone else can get there sooner than I can, because we need to get that shit under control fast.”

  Evie and Hailee were both busy, but Monroe came straight over and spent the half hour before Tatum arrived trying to take my mind off King and his half-cocked idea.

  She wasn’t successful.

  “I mean, does the man even understand how difficult it is to plan a wedding and get everything to line up perfectly?” I said to her as Tatum entered my kitchen.

  Before Monroe could respond, Tatum held up her hand and took over. “Stop right there, Lily, and take a deep breath.” She dumped her bag on the dining table and removed her leather jacket. “And just on a side note, does anyone know how long this fucking rain is predicted to last?”

  My brain raced at the thought of rain on the weekend. “Jesus, I am definitely not moving this wedding if the rain is going to last all week! I will not allow my mother to be right about a reception under a marquee!”

  Monroe frowned. “What has Hannah said now?”

  I exhaled loudly, trying to force the tension from my body. “What hasn’t she said? I don’t want to talk about her today. But I need to know the weather forecast before I make any decision about the wedding date.”

  As I reached for my phone, Tatum stopped me. “Lily, slow down and let’s go over this. Tell me why King wants to change the date.”

  “He doesn’t want to wait any longer and he also thinks I’m going to send both of us crazy if we wait another three weeks.”

  Tatum nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to say it, but I tend to agree with him on this.”

  The significance of Tatum agreeing with anything that King thought made me stop and really consider what she said. She pretty much never agreed with him. And if she did, she hated admitting it.

  King knew my limits well, so he was probably right that another three weeks of this wouldn’t end well. I liked to bury my head in the sand about some things, and I was likely doing that about the wedding plans.

  Bringing the wedding forward might have been the smart move, but knowing that didn’t mean my brain would easily accept it. Not when I felt so overwhelmed by the practicality of changing dates.

  Not to mention the realisation that, if this all went ahead, I would be married in one week.

  King would be my forever.

  And while marrying him was everything I wanted, what if I screwed it all up?

  Oh God.

  I thought I was feeling better about all this after our talk last night, but it turned out I wasn’t. I still doubted myself.<
br />
  “Okay, I concede that he might be right about me and my crazy train, but that doesn’t mean I can rearrange everything to make it happen in time. Surely you agree with me on that.” The panic setting in was real. My stomach was a knot of stress.

  Monroe joined in. “Oh, honey, you’re forgetting who your friends are. Tatum and I can make anything you want happen. Even if King changes his mind again and wants a wedding tomorrow, we’re your girls.”

  “Oh God,” I said, my stress increasing. “Really? I mean, we don’t even have a venue yet. I’m not convinced we can find one this fast.”

  Tatum nodded as she headed to my pantry and pulled the tin of Milo from it. Holding it up, she said, “First, we drink. Then, we plan. Even if I have to beg someone for a venue, we will make this happen. And if you ever tell King I was the one who told you he was right, I will deny it until the day I die.”

  Chapter Seven

  King

  I’d wasted another fucking day waiting for the location of the motherfucker who was screwing my club over. And Eric Bones had confirmed that more coke had hit the street that wasn’t sourced from Storm.

  “Have you heard from Winter today?” Hyde asked, taking the seat opposite mine in my office. He looked as pissed off as I was.

  “Yeah. He’s feeling some heat from this.” He’d told me that the Melbourne chapter of Black Deeds was making some noise about taking some of our territory.

  “Everyone’s here, ready for you.”

  I’d called every member in to go over what we needed to do now. I wasn’t waiting anymore. We’d hunt the city for this asshole and find him ourselves. Before he caused any further problems for us.

  Shoving my chair back, I stood and made my way out to the clubhouse bar. All eyes came to me fast as everyone waited for what I had to say. The entire club getting called out at 7:00 p.m. on a Sunday night wasn’t something they were used to, so they knew shit was about to go down.

  Looking around the room, I said, “We’ve got a new enemy. One we need to put an end to fast. Tonight, we all go fucking door knocking and find him. I don’t care if you have to kick down doors, drag people out of bed, or cause havoc; we do not fucking stop until we have him.” My voice darkened as I demanded, “Am I understood?”

  As they gave me their confirmation, I said, “See Hyde for more information, and if you find this guy, I’m the first to know. You can do whatever you need to do to restrain him, but he comes to me alive.”

  I left them and stalked back to my office. Pulling out my phone, I called Lily who took her sweet fucking time answering. “King. Are you coming home soon? Or do you want me to put your dinner—”

  “I won’t be home tonight. Don’t keep any dinner for me.”

  “Oh, okay.” A slight pause and then—“Is everything okay? You don’t sound happy.”

  I scrubbed my face. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ending the call, I placed my phone on the desk and reached for the bottle of whisky behind me. I poured a glass and downed it in one go. It hit the spot, but I needed more to help take the edge off. I was fucking wired for blood. When we found Clark fucking Kent, I would spend hours getting his blood on my hands. And that couldn’t come fucking fast enough.

  I threw another glass of whisky down my throat as Wolf stepped into the room. Taking in the expression on his face, I recalled Lily’s words from earlier. I think something’s going on with him. It had fucking pissed me off that his old lady had approached Lily with this shit. And it had also pissed me off that Lily had brought that shit to me.

  “What?” I barked, not wanting to hear whatever the fuck he had to say.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, unease clear in his voice. “I really hate to come to you with this—”

  “Well don’t. Walk back out of this office and go handle the shit you’ve been asked to handle.”

  He stared at me in silence. When that silence had passed its use-by date, I said, “Have we got a problem, Wolf?”

  He only thought about that for a second. “No.”

  “Good, because as far as I’m concerned, I made it clear as fuck what I expect from you tonight, and if you can’t do what I’ve asked, then we’ve got a big fucking problem that I can guarantee you neither of us want.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “There’s no problem, King.”

  I watched him leave, the beast inside roaring to life.

  Blood.

  I needed to see it.

  I needed to feel it.

  I fucking needed to spill it.

  * * *

  “The rain isn’t helping any of us,” Nitro said five hours later when I called to check in with him. “It’s fucking pouring down on this side of town, slowing us down. And the fucking cops are out in full force thanks to it, too. I’m not sure we’re gonna have much success tonight.”

  He was right; the rain had turned torrential. Some streets were beginning to flood.

  “I’ve got one more place on my list. How’s everyone else’s list going?” Nitro was the one keeping tabs on our operation, ensuring every last corner of Sydney was checked.

  “They’re making progress, but we’re not even close to finding this guy. Either no one knows a fucking thing about him or he’s paid them well enough to keep their mouths shut.”

  My guess was the latter. “The rain’s not stopping us, brother. Push everyone harder. I want him found.”

  “Fuck, King. I feel you, but—”

  “No fucking buts, Nitro. We keep fucking going.”

  I stabbed at my phone to end the call before eyeing Devil. Jerking my chin at the house we stood outside of, I said, “You take the back.”

  He nodded and quickly made his way around the side of the house while I headed for the front door. Already soaked, I barely noticed the rain or the mud as I stalked through it.

  Before I reached the door, it opened and a guy barrelled out, coming at me with a gun and a roar of anger. Mine was aimed and ready to go, and the sound of gunfire mingled with the heavy rain as we both pulled our trigger.

  His bullet just missed my right arm. I was so fucking hyped up that I hardly registered it. I picked up my pace and charged at him. My bullet ended up in his stomach, slowing him down, so I had little trouble getting my arms around him and taking him to the ground.

  I had never heard of this guy until an hour ago when another asshole we’d talked to gave me this address. He’d told me that this guy hadn’t shut up about a friend of his going after Storm’s business. I figured that, based on the welcome party I’d received, we were a step closer to finding Clark Kent.

  “Jesus, King, you good?” Devil asked, joining me back out the front of the house.

  “Yeah. Help me get him inside.”

  The guy kicked and screamed, trying desperately to escape our hold, but Devil and I managed to carry him inside. I was covered in his blood and mud by the time we dumped him on his couch. In an effort to control him, I punched him hard in the face. “Shut the fuck up!”

  He spat up at me. “Fuck you! I’m not telling you anything.”

  I reefed him back up, spun him around, and shoved him hard across the room. When he landed on his ass, I took my gun and shot him in the leg before crouching in front of him. “I’ll riddle your body with bullets if I have to, but I’m not leaving here until you tell me everything you know about what your friend is doing.” Taking aim, I shot his other leg and snarled, “And if you ever fucking spit at me again, I’ll dedicate hours to making you hurt.”

  The guy roared in pain, his face an angry red mess of hostility and agony. When he continued carrying on with his anger rather than giving me what I wanted, I yanked out my blade. Gripping his jaw, I said, “You know what my favourite thing to do to assholes like you is?” I pressed the tip of the knife to his chest, my beast feeding off his fear. “Some call it stabbing, some refer to it as slicing, but I like to think of it as carving. I like to create fucking masterpieces of flesh and blood.” I reached for his sh
irt and slashed it in half down the front. “And I like to take my fucking time. So settle in, because we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  As my knife pierced his skin, he screamed out, “I’m not fucking ratting him out!”

  I carved a deep gash down his stomach, near the bullet wound I’d already inflicted. “You will,” I promised, my demons blazing to life.

  Devil held him down while I continued to slice into his skin. I had to give the asshole props; he didn’t squeal for a while. It wasn’t until I’d carved my way down to his fingers that he finally started talking.

  With blood dripping from his body, he panted, “Fucking hell, he’s left town. Don’t cut my fucking fingers off…. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  He shared everything he knew after that, which wasn’t too fucking much, but it was enough to know we weren’t going to find his friend in Sydney. Clark Kent had gone back to Brisbane to source more coke.

  After we’d extracted the information, Devil eyed the guy on the floor. “What do you want to do with him?”

  I stood and pointed my gun at the guy’s head. Extracting information from him had taken some of the edge off my need for blood. Pulling the trigger contributed to that. But until I had Kent’s blood on my hands, that need would not be fully satisfied.

  “Call Nitro,” I answered Devil. “Tell him we have what we need so he can send everyone home.”

  As he called Nitro, I called Scott Cole. He answered on the fourth ring. “Fuck, King, it’s late. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a job for you. And I’ll be in town tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lily

  King was leaving town.

  The man had practically forced a change of wedding date on me yesterday, and now he was fucking leaving town for an unknown amount of time.

  Deep breath, Lily.