War of Hearts

by Nina Levine

  “Umm, I’ll show you.” My words come out sounding like a squeak. An embarrassing high-pitched sound that has me rushing to show him the bathroom so I can escape this awkwardness. In my haste, I trip over a box Holly left in the hallway.

  As I stumble, his strong arm slides around my waist and stops my fall. My body ends up pressed against his, my back to him. I can’t deny how good it feels to be this close to him. When he says, “Careful,” his warm breath against my ear tips me dangerously close to the edge of turning and kissing him.

  Don’t do it.

  It’s not fair to him.

  God knows what King will do to him.

  “Thanks.” I steady myself and slip out of his hold, ignoring the lust blazing through my veins, and carrying on to the bathroom.

  When we reach our destination, I quickly grab a towel from the linen cupboard in the hallway and pass it to him. “Just leave your clothes in the hallway and I’ll wash them.”

  My eyes dart everywhere but at his body. I should be awarded a freaking medal for this. Instead, I’m rewarded with Fury’s gravelly voice when he says, “Thanks.”

  I will not jump him.

  I will not force my tongue down his throat.

  I will not rip the rest of his clothes off.

  Nodding, I leave him alone and walk as fast as I can to the kitchen.

  I need a whole lot of cake or ice cream.

  Or tequila.

  Why did I think it a good idea to wash his clothes? I did not think that through well, because it’s going to take a lot longer to wash and dry them than it is for him to take a shower. That’s going to leave him sitting around in a freaking towel waiting for them.

  Worst. Idea. Ever.

  I cut some cake and eat it.

  Caramel mud.

  So good.

  But nowhere near enough to take my mind off the man in my shower.

  I cut a slice of the apple cinnamon teacake and gobble it down.

  Still nowhere near enough to reach my goal, but at this rate, I’ll have eaten all six cakes by the time he finishes, so I stop and make my way back down the hall to retrieve his clothes. I stand outside for a couple of minutes listening to the shower running, but I make a good decision when I swipe his clothes up and practically run to the laundry. Holly would be so proud of me.

  I’m finishing icing my cakes and cleaning up when Fury walks into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel. My eyes meet his as he lifts his arm and runs his fingers through his wet hair. “Thanks for letting me use the shower.”

  My brain is trying to keep up with his words when it can barely keep up with all the sexy on display, but I manage to remember his clothes that are in the wash. “No worries. I should go check your clothes. They’re probably ready to go in the dryer.”

  “I already put them in.”

  “Oh.”

  The air is thick with tension as we silently watch each other. I’m fairly certain it’s not just me feeling this, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve misread a situation with a guy, so maybe not.

  Fury cuts through the tension when he pulls up a stool at the counter and says, “How about that cake?”

  I’m relieved to have something to do and cut him a piece of the caramel mud. When I slide the plate across to him, he says, “You’re not having any?”

  “Trust me, I’ve had some. I don’t need more.”

  He picks up the fork as his eyes lock onto mine. They’re filled with intent when he says, “Trust me, you could get away with having more.”

  Because I’ve decided not to go there with him, I don’t know what to do with that. I also don’t know what to do with the sight of him eating. Seriously, this man is the sexiest man alive as far as I’m concerned. He even makes eating sexy.

  Desperate to do anything besides drool over him, I say, “How old is your niece now?”

  He seems surprised by the turn of conversation, but answers, “She turned five last month.”

  “You spend a lot of time with her?”

  Regret flickers in his eyes as he takes another bite of cake. “Not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Her mother got married and moved to Darwin two years ago. I’ve only seen them once since then.”

  “What’s her name?” I cut him a piece of the apple cinnamon cake and give it to him because he’s inhaled the mud cake.

  “Violet.” He takes a mouthful of the apple cake.

  I rest my elbows on the counter and lean forward. “So her mother isn’t your sister?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t like giving much when people ask you questions, do you?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  I grin. “Yeah. I like other people’s stories.”

  “I don’t.”

  I keep grinning. “I can tell.”

  He finishes his second piece of cake and points at the plate. “You know your way around a cake.”

  I shrug. “I can bake a little.”

  “You can bake a fuckload.”

  “You know, for an asshole, you can be nice when you want to be.”

  “I didn’t think you thought I was an asshole anymore.”

  “I’ve decided not to be so rash in my decisions. I’m taking my time with this one.”

  “Smart move.”

  “You’ve earned a few ticks in the ‘not an asshole’ column today.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, fixing my car for one. And taking pity on me for being broke and covering the cost of the parts.”

  “So two ticks today?”

  I scrunch my nose. “Well, you did lose one of those ticks when you ordered me to get regular services. But then you earned it back when you said I could get away with eating more cake. And now I’ve just added another one because you told me I can make a cake. I mean, if you wanna keep your asshole status, I’m gonna need to be seeing some more of that mean streak of yours. Just sayin’.”

  He leans forward, eyes boring into mine. “Princess, you don’t just make a fucking cake, you fucking boss it. You put every other cake maker out there to shame.”

  My entire body lights up. With pride. With happiness. With desire.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. “That means a lot.”

  “Just calling it like I see it.”

  I take a deep breath and brace myself for a long night, because I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m in for. With Fury half-naked and being his non-asshole self, it’s going to be one long-ass night of holding myself back from doing what I really want to do with him.

  11

  Fury

  * * *

  I need to get laid.

  And fucking soon.

  If I have any hope of surviving Zara, I need to find a club whore to help me move my dick the fuck on from her, because after the last two nights, she’s been on constant replay in my head. Eating cake and spending time talking with her last night was a bad fucking decision that I won’t repeat again.

  I’ve spent today in the gym, trying to box my frustration out. To no effect. And now I’ve just turned up at the clubhouse for the barbeque Zara told her mother she’d help organise, so I’m expecting to run into her here. To say I’d prefer to spend my day off anywhere but here is an understatement. I’ll stay for a couple of hours and then head off once King has seen me show my face.

  I’ve been here for about half an hour and am shooting the shit with Nash out the back of the clubhouse when I catch sight of her.

  “Fucking hell,” I say, unable to stop the words coming out as I sweep my eyes down her body. She’s wearing a long, loose white dress, and her hair is up in a messy bun. A bunch of bangles jangle on her arm, and a gold necklace draws my attention to her tits. Fuck, she’s perfect.

  Nash follows my gaze and whistles low. “Fuck, man, that’s a bad fucking idea.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t need Nash telling me that; I know it better than I know anything. And yet, I don’t know how much longer I can deny mys
elf.

  “What’s a bad idea?” Nash’s old lady, Velvet, asks as she joins us. Her attention is only half on us, though, because she’s keeping an eye on the kids playing close by.

  He grins as he slides his arm around her waist and pulls her close. “Fury’s got a hard-on for King’s daughter. King will slice his dick off and cut the rest of him into tiny pieces if he goes near her.”

  Velvet shoots me a look of sympathy, but before she can respond, her son races across the grass, chasing after one of J’s daughters. “Zeke!” She gets his attention. “Come here.”

  Zeke takes his eyes off Jewel for a second, looks at his mother, grins cheekily, and then goes back to chasing Jewel.

  “He’s your son all the way down to his bones,” Velvet says to Nash. “And he’s only two. God knows what he’s going to be like when he gets older.”

  Nash grins the same grin his son did. “If he’s my son down to his bones, we know what he’s gonna be like.”

  The look Velvet gives him is the kind of look I never saw between my parents. It’s love and exasperation and affection all rolled into one. “Well, you need to go calm him down because if he keeps chasing Jewel, someone is gonna get hurt.”

  Nash lets her go and turns to the kids who are weaving in between adults in their game of chase. “Jewel,” he calls out. “Come here, darlin’.”

  Jewel’s smile fills her face as she runs over to Nash, who crouches to meet her. Zeke follows closely behind and Nash pulls them both into his arms when they reach him.

  “Who wants to play a game?” he asks.

  Both their faces light up as they cry out, “Me!” in unison.

  Nash places a finger to his lips and says, “Shh. This is a very special game where the two of you have to be as quiet as you can.”

  Zeke’s brows pull in. “Why?”

  Velvet’s eyes meet mine, and she mouths, “Exactly like his father.”

  “If you promise me you can be quiet, and that you won’t run around all the adults, I’ll come and read a book with you,” Nash says.

  Jewel bounces up and down, excited. Zeke doesn’t appear to be as certain about this as she is, but her excitement is contagious and he jumps up and down, too.

  “Okay,” Nash says, calming them down again, “Do you promise to stop running around?”

  Zeke nods. “Yes.”

  Jewel makes a strange face and starts moving on the spot, kinda like she’s dancing. “Go pee-pee.”

  Velvet swings into action, taking Jewel’s hand. “I’ll take you, baby.” She also reaches for her son’s hand. “We’ll all go and then Daddy can read with you.”

  The three of them leave and Nash starts talking about the trip to Melbourne, but I only half listen because my attention has drifted back to Zara who’s talking to one of the Brisbane guys. Whatever the fuck he’s saying causes her to laugh, which causes him to grin big and lean in close to her. My body tenses when the motherfucker moves his mouth near her ear and says something. The only thing that eases the strain of my muscles is the frown that spreads across her face and the way she leans back from him. Whatever he just said didn’t impress her, and she quickly leaves his side.

  I exhale the breath I didn’t realised I was holding.

  “Fury, did you hear a word I just said?” Nash asks.

  Taking my eyes off Zara, I meet his gaze. “No, I missed it.”

  Nash shakes his head. “Yeah, I bet you fuckin’ did. You need to find some other pussy and forget that one. I asked if you were riding down to Melbourne with us on Monday?”

  “No, King wants me here.”

  “Hyde’s staying behind, too, yeah?”

  “Yeah, and a few other guys. But most of the club is going. This gang bullshit has rattled King, so he wants everyone with him.”

  “Seems like as fast as Winter deals with some of them, they bring more gang members on board. I’d never heard of them before, but it looks like they’re building a fuckin’ army.”

  The gang, Zenith, came out of nowhere six months ago and tread all over Storm territory. King runs coke and guns down the eastern side of Australia, and everyone knows not to get on his bad side by trying to take some of his business. But these assholes have earned his wrath by taking some of his territory, and if shit doesn’t calm down soon, they’ll force a war. King and the Brisbane chapter are heading down to Melbourne to help Winter get them under control.

  Madison interrupts us when she calls out, “Nash, Zeke has hurt himself and Velvet wants your help.”

  “Shit,” Nash mutters. “That kid is gonna break all his bones one day.”

  He leaves me alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of a woman I don’t want anywhere in my head.

  I have to get out of here, and I’ve almost achieved that goal when I near the kitchen and hear Zara’s raised voice. Slowing down, I make out Lily’s raised voice also. They’re arguing over an abortion. I have no interest in other people’s business, so I keep on walking. I’m only a couple of steps past the office when Zara flies out, pushes past me in a rush of wild energy and runs down the hallway towards the front door.

  Lily runs out after her, coming to a halt when she spots me. Her eyes meet mine, full of panic. “Oh God.” Tears stream down her face. “Can you please go after her, Fury? Make sure she doesn’t get in her car. I don’t want her driving in this state.”

  Going after Zara is the last thing I want to do. Not because I don’t care about her getting behind the wheel or about her being upset, but because I don’t want to put myself at risk of doing something stupid. However, I can’t find it in me to say no to Lily, so I nod and do as she’s asked.

  A couple of minutes later, I find Zara sitting in her car sobbing. Her head jerks up when I open the passenger door and get in. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just stares at me while her tears keep falling.

  Black mascara streaks down her face.

  Her nose has turned red.

  Her eyes are puffy.

  And she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  “Pass me the keys,” I say, holding out my hand.

  She frowns. “Why?”

  “Because you’re not driving anywhere while you’re like this.”

  “And who made you the boss of me?”

  “Your mother.”

  I expect another snappy reply, but instead, she drops her head to the steering wheel and cries harder.

  Fuck.

  I’m out of my depth here, but Lily has always been good to me, so the least I can do is help her when she needs it. And by the looks of Zara, she really fucking needs it now.

  Resting my head back against the seat, I settle in for the long haul. In my experience, when a woman is crying like Zara is, she needs some time to get herself together.

  Not even thirty seconds has passed when she lifts her head and looks at me. “You heard our argument?”

  I meet her gaze. “Some of it.”

  “How much?”

  “Not a lot.”

  She wipes her face, but it doesn’t achieve much because her tears haven’t dried up. “Are you always so fucking evasive? Tell me what you heard.”

  I don’t let her eyes go. “It doesn’t matter what I heard. That shit stays with me, and it has nothing to do with me.”

  Reaching for her bag that’s sitting in the console between us, she madly rummages through it for something while muttering words that don’t make much sense to me due to how fast she utters them. Pulling out a tissue, she blows her nose. It reminds me of the way my grandfather used to blow his. Loud as fuck. The noise fills the car, snotty as hell.

  Halfway through, she stops and says, “So what you’re saying is you heard us arguing over my abortion?” She blows her nose some more before stopping again and demanding, “Yes?”

  There’s something really fucking wrong here. I’m sitting in a car I don’t want to be sitting in with a woman balling her eyes out, blowing the shit out of her nose, and questioning the fuck out of
me over shit I don’t care about. I should be itching to get out of here, but I’m not.

  “I heard a little about that, but—”

  She finishes wiping her nose. “There are no buts, Fury. You heard it, and now you know about it. And that fucking sucks because it’s a private matter I didn’t want anyone knowing about.”

  “Jesus, Zara, you think I’m gonna go around spreading that shit everywhere? I’m not. And to be really fucking honest, I don’t care if you had an abortion or even if you had two of them. That’s your business. Not mine. Consider it forgotten.”

  I’m blessed with silence for a few moments before she says, “Are you close to your mother?”

  “No. She died when I was nineteen.” I have no fucking idea why I answer her question.

  “Were you close before she died?”

  “No.” The last thing Zara wants to hear is how my father ensured that neither my brother or I were close with our mother. About how he beat her so often she spent most of her days in bed just trying to survive. I wanted to be close to her, but my father stole that from me. And then, after he was gone, cancer made sure I never had the chance.

  She shifts in her seat so she’s sitting sideways watching me. Her tears have slowed, and she seems to have calmed down a little. “I had the abortion a month ago. Mum and Holly are the only ones who know about it. She’s been supportive every step of the way, but now she’s pushing me to talk about it with a psychologist, and I don’t feel ready for that. We just had the biggest fight we’ve had in years.” More tears fall down her cheeks. “I said some awful things to her.”

  “We say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t always mean. It’s what families do.”

  “Yeah, but it just feels like everything in my life is turning to shit. Things were going so well last year, but this year…. This year has sucked.” When I don’t say anything to that, because I don’t have anything useful to say, she asks, “Do you have any other brothers and sisters besides the one who has the daughter?”

  “No, just the one brother. And no, we’re not close either.”