by Nina Levine
As we exit the house, King pulls out his phone and makes a call.
To Detective Stark.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he says, having already arranged for us to meet with her.
He listens to what she says and then jabs the phone to end the call.
Eyeing me, he says, “You know what to do if she doesn’t come to the party.” The dark edge running through his voice matches the tension in his eyes.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good, because this shit ends today.”
I don’t know all the ins and outs of the pressure crushing Storm, because King keeps that shit close to his and Hyde’s chests, but he has shared with me that he’s taking back control of Detective Stark today one way or another. Four years of taking care of her shit have taken their toll on him, that much I do know. To say I’m fucking happy about this turn of events is an understatement. The only club members who know about his involvement with her are Hyde, Nitro, Devil, Kick, Winter, and me. I’m the one, though, who’s had to deal with her the most besides King, and I don’t like the bitch. And I sure as fuck don’t trust her, so I’m more than down with doing what he’s told me to do if she doesn’t fall in line.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re cutting across the gravel out the back of the abandoned industrial building that’s the meeting point for all their chats. Detective Stark’s back is to us as she stares down at her phone. When she hears our approach, she turns, bringing her flinty eyes to me and then to King, settling her gaze on him.
“This better be good, King,” she says, cold as ice. “I had plans with my daughter today that I’ve had to—”
“I don’t give a fuck about your plans, Isabel,” he starts, and it’s obvious he gives no fucks about the venom that blazes from her when he continues, “You and I are making a change to the way we work.”
“No, we’re not.” More venom.
He pulls something from his pocket and hands it to her. “Yeah, we fucking are.”
She makes no sound as she takes a toy phone from him—the one I retrieved from the Italian—but her body language is one long gasp. She practically fucking chokes, but still, she says nothing.
King jerks his chin at the phone. “I’ve made copies of the chip we found in there and I’ve put one of those copies back inside for you in case you ever forget what’s on the original.” He takes a step nearer to her. “I won’t be taking orders from you anymore; you’ll be taking them from me. And the first order of business is for you to drop all investigations into Hagarty.”
Her lips smash together. “You’re not being serious.”
“About Hagarty?” he asks. “Deadly serious. I’ve told you that taking him off the streets is a bad fucking decision, and now I’m making sure you don’t.”
She shakes the phone at him. “That’s why you’re blackmailing me with this shit?”
He covers the rest of the distance between them, looming over her as he snarls, “No, I would have made sure of that without the blackmail.” He jabs the phone. “This is me fixing the mistake I made when I allowed your child to get in the way of my good fucking sense four years ago.”
“I have so much shit on you and your operations, King. You’re a fucking fool making this play.”
His hand goes to her neck. Crushing it in his grip, he growls low, “You would do well not to underestimate me, Isabel. The shit I have on you far outweighs anything you have on me. But just to be sure”—he lets her go and pulls out his phone, dials a number and then hands the phone to her—“you’ll give us the password to your computer.”
When I sense her wavering, I move next to her.
She glances between King and me, her expression revealing just how not into this she is. “Over my dead fucking body. And besides, you’d have to get your hands on my computer to—”
I aim my gun at her as King says, “We have your computer. But if you want to die, just say the word. My men are skilled at hacking computers if necessary. I just figured we could start our new relationship off with some friendly give and take.” His eyes glitter with crazy. “As in you fucking give and I fucking take.”
When she doesn’t start talking but just stares at us, I move the gun to her temple and exert enough pressure to force her head to the side. The ice in her eyes shifts to fear and they beg me not to pull the trigger. I shake my head once. I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger if King gives me that order.
Finally, after a long drawn-out moment of tension, she rattles off her password. Once she gives it to whoever’s on the other end of the phone, King puts the phone to his ear and says, “Do you have what you need?”
Once he receives confirmation, he ends the call and eyes Stark. “Take care of the Hagarty situation and let me know once it’s done. Tonight.” Without another word, he turns and stalks away.
As I’m leaving, Stark says, “King’s making a mistake with Hagarty. You need to talk to him about that.”
I turn back to her. “In case you haven’t picked this up yet, no one talks to King, and I’m not about to fucking start. I suggest you sort the shit he’s told you to and make peace with the fact you no longer run this fucking show.”
That ice returns to her eyes. “I’ve watched you for four years now, Ryan, and all I can say is you’re too much like him. It’ll be your downfall, because mark my words, both of you are going down. It may not be soon, but it will happen. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
She’s full of shit.
The only one going down is her, and thank fuck for that. Now Storm can get back to real fucking business.
27
Fury
* * *
Zara: What time will you be over?
Me: Just got home. Will shower and then come over.
Zara: I’m making you dinner. Your vegan-hating self will be happy. I’m adding meat to half of it.
* * *
A knock at my front door interrupts our texting. Not that I plan to dedicate much time to texting her when I can get my ass over there sooner if I just have a shower. I shoot her one more quick text.
* * *
Me: Stop slowing me down.
Zara: Grumpy bum.
* * *
Another knock at the door.
* * *
Zara: It’s okay. I still love you.
* * *
Fuck.
* * *
Zara: Shit, just ignore I said that.
* * *
The knocking grows louder. More insistent.
I’m still staring at the messages Zara sent as I rip the door open and bark, “What?”
I stare at the woman standing on my front porch staring at me.
Why the fuck won’t she leave me alone?
“Hi, Fury.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Lynette, I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, but I’m just about to—”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts.
“And what the fuck do you want me to do about that?” Jesus. Women.
Her eyes bug out. “It’s yours.”
The world spins.
What in the actual fuck is going on right now?
“What the hell are you talking about? I made fucking sure to use a condom every time we had sex. There’s no fucking way that baby is mine.”
“One of them broke. Did you forget that, asshole? Jesus, this is not the response I was looking for here.”
My mind races back to the times I fucked Lynette.
Fuck.
She’s right.
One of the condoms broke.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I don’t want to be a dick and ask her if she’s sure it’s mine, but fuck, it’s no word of a lie that Lynette sleeps around. Maybe it’s not mine.
“It’s yours, Fury.” She reads my mind. “I’ll take whatever test you want to prove it. But I’m not asking you to be involved; I just thought you should know.”
A horn blares from my front yard and a wo
man calls out, “Come on, Lynette. Happy hour is starting soon!”
An avalanche of thoughts run through my mind as I try to process this.
“Happy hour? Why the fuck are you going to happy hour? You’re pregnant.”
She frowns. “You can still drink when you’re pregnant, Fury.”
My thoughts all crash together.
She’s pregnant.
It’s mine.
I don’t doubt her.
She’s going out for a drink.
To happy fucking hour of all things.
She’s. Fucking. Pregnant.
As she takes a step away from me, preparing to run back down the stairs to whoever’s in that car waiting, I grab her arm. “You’re not going to fucking happy hour, Lynette. Not when you’re carrying my child.”
My voice is hard. Firm. I’m not taking no for an answer. And she doesn’t miss that in my tone.
“Umm, it’s my body. I get to choose what I do with it.”
I step outside with her, my hold on her arm tightening. “Not anymore you don’t. Until that baby is born, you will do everything in your fucking power to ensure it comes into this world as healthy as fucking possible.” When she stares up at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, I say, “Am I understood?”
She doesn’t respond to that.
The horn blares again.
“Am I understood?” I bark.
Fuck, she is not ruining my child’s life.
I don’t care what I have to do; my baby will be born healthy.
Ripping her arm from my hold, she snaps, “Yes, you’re fucking understood. But you don’t have to be an ass about it. If you want to be a part of this baby’s life, you can. I just didn’t think you’d want to.”
A part of its life?
I’ll be more than a fucking part of its life.
“How far along are you?”
She shrugs. “A couple of months or so.”
“Fucking hell, Lynette. How can you not know the answer to this?”
“Don’t yell at me! I didn’t ask for this kid. I’m just doing the best I can. I think the doctor said it’s due in July.”
I take a deep breath and tell myself not to lose my shit with her. The stress won’t do the baby any good.
“Right, this is what you’re gonna do: you’re gonna go home. No happy hour. No drinking. And then I’m gonna come over tomorrow so we can make a plan. We’re doing this together.”
She blinks. “You really do wanna be a part of this, don’t you?”
“Lynette,” I say with conviction. “This baby will grow up knowing not only who its father is, but also that its father loves it. You just try and fucking keep me away.”
Nodding slowly, she says, “Okay,” before smiling and placing her hand to my chest. “Maybe we can be a family.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
After she’s gone, and I’ve processed the fact I’m going to be a father, I process the fact I have to go and see Zara.
I have to tell her about this child.
I have to break her heart.
28
Zara
* * *
“You know I’m all for you two,” Holly says as I make dinner, “but seriously, you’re cooking meat for him? You don’t even cook meat for me.”
I smile. “Aww, she’s jealous. So cute.” Holly never gets like this. Kinda needy. I like it.
She hops up and sits on the kitchen counter. “So when are you breaking the news to Daddy dearest? Oh, and I thought of something to add to your list of shit to do: cave diving.” She grins and nods like she’s pleased with herself. “Nowhere near as dangerous as confessing to King.”
I smack her. Since I told her about Fury and me, she’s given me hell over telling King, making a multitude of suggestions as to what we could do with our lives that might be safer. “We’re gonna tell him next week, smartass.”
“Good to know. I shall prepare for the wake. I’m gonna miss Fury.” At the sound of knocking on the front door, she says, “Speak of the sexy devil.” Jumping off the counter, she waves me off when I wipe my hands on the tea towel so I can go let him in. “As you were; I’ll go get him.”
I love my sister, even when she teases me mercilessly. She’s been nothing but supportive of me being with Fury, but she’s convinced King’s going to absolutely lose his shit over the relationship. I know he’s not going to be happy, because this goes against what he’s told us to do, but I can’t understand why he wouldn’t want me dating a guy he’s welcomed into his club.
Holly and Fury join me in the kitchen and the butterflies I felt when he knocked on the door disappear.
Something’s wrong.
Oh God, he’s told King already.
That has to be it because the look on his face is pure torment.
We watch each other silently as Holly says, “I’m gonna grab my shit and get out of here. Leave you two to get onto eating all that meat.”
Once she’s left us, I move to him, searching his eyes. “You told King.”
His forehead creases for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. But there is something.”
My heart jumps into my throat. It’s beating so damn fast in there that I have trouble breathing. “What?”
He remains silent for too many seconds. Moments in which I consider a million horrible things that might have happened to him. But in no way do I think of the bombshell he drops.
“I found out today that I’m going to be a father.”
“Oh.” My heart beats faster in my throat.
“Yeah, that about covers it. Fucking, oh.”
I don’t know how to take that. Is he pissed off with this news? “You’re not happy about it?”
He scrubs a hand over his face, eyes still crowded with torment. “It was a shock. And having a child with a woman I don’t love or even really know is not how I would have preferred this to go down.” He pauses. “Fuck, Zara, I don’t even know that I planned to ever have children.”
“Who’s the mother?” It’s the question I don’t really want to ask, because I have a jealous streak a mile wide. It hasn’t flared with Fury yet, but I’m feeling it deeply now.
“Lynette.”
I’ve seen her around the clubhouse and I’m not a fan. Well, I wasn’t before I knew Fury slept with her, but I’m really not a fan now. Which is just dumb because that’s coming from pure jealousy. But still, I can’t help how I feel, and I’m feeling all kinds of unpleasant things about this.
Desperate to stop focussing on Lynette, I think about the baby instead. “When’s the baby due?”
“July. I think.”
I frown. “You don’t know?”
His mouth pulls into an angry line. “She doesn’t know.”
I continue frowning. What pregnant woman doesn’t know when her baby’s due?
“Fuck,” he says. “We need to talk about this.”
“I thought we were talking about it,” I say slowly, confused. I don’t like the sound of his voice. And I really don’t like the way he’s looking at me with regret and heartbreak and apology all rolled into one.
He reaches for my waist and pulls me to him. Smoothing my hair, he says, “I had the shittiest childhood; I’ve told you a little about that.”
I nod and swallow hard. Why is my chest squeezing like my world is about to crash down all around me? “Yes.”
“It’s the kind of childhood I’d never wish upon any child. Children deserve two parents who love them and who will go to the ends of the earth for them if necessary.” He pauses like he’s trying to figure out how to say what he has to say. “I need to go to the ends of the earth for my child. I need to do everything I can to give it a home with two parents.”
Oh God.
This is why he’s looking at me the way he is.
“You’re going to raise your child with Lynette.”
The apology in his expression intensifies as he says the words I don’t want to hear. “Yes.”
My b
reath hitches and I place my hands to his chest.
When I push to escape his hold, he refuses to let me go. “Zara…. Fuck, this is not what I want for us.”
“I… I know.” I stumble over my thoughts and my words.
How is this happening?
We were happy.
I saw a future.
With him.
With the man I was made for.
I push harder against his chest. When he still won’t let me go, I say, “Fury, let me go.”
His face twists with pain. “I don’t want to.”
“You have to.”
He holds me tighter. “Fucking hell…. This isn’t what I wanted.” The agony laced in his words matches the agony stabbing my heart.
“I know,” I whisper, my happiness shattering. I can’t hate him for putting his child first. For making this choice for his child. If anyone can understand making hard decisions for their baby, it’s me. Moving my hands to his face, I grasp his cheeks. “When life gives us a shitty situation, we have to choose from shitty options.”
His lips smash down onto mine at the same time my first tear falls. He claims me with this kiss, and I let him. My body lets him.
But it’s over all too fast and now I have to let him go.
I have to abandon all the hopes and dreams I had for us.
I have to let Fury go and be the good man I know him to be.
A good man who wasn’t made for me.
Part II
Four Years Later
29
Zara