Surviving Storm (Kings Reapers MC Book 7)

by Nicola Jane

  “Laura, it’s me.”

  “Not today, Storm,” she snaps.

  I sigh heavily. She’s already testing my patience, and I haven’t got up to her flat. I press the intercom of one of the other flats and they release the door without speaking. Taking the steps two at a time onto Laura’s floor, I try the door and it opens. I smirk to myself. Who the hell leaves their door unlocked these days? Laura jumps up from the couch, outraged when she sees me. “I said not today,” she yells.

  “You gotta stop this witch hunt, Laura,” I say. “I didn’t kill your brother.”

  “The police seem to think you did.”

  “Then why am I walking around free? If they have evidence, they’d charge me.”

  “I know he stole drugs,” she mutters.

  “I know nothing about that.”

  “From the club in Nottingham,” she continues. “The private investigator found that out.”

  “But it’s got nothing to do with me!”

  “Why won’t you just tell me?” she wails. “You’ve seen what this has done to me. I’ve spent months trying to find him. How could you let me cry in your arms knowing he’s dead?”

  “Jesus, don’t you listen? I don’t know him, I didn’t kill him, and I don’t know where the fuck he is now.”

  “It was Tommy who suggested you. Said your club does that sort of thing.”

  “Baby, you were around the club. When did you ever see anyone murder another?” I ask. “Do you think Tommy was pissed because you still loved me?”

  She scowls. “I dumped you.”

  “But you came back several times,” I remind her. “From his bed to mine. Then you spring an injunction on me like I’m crazy,” I snap.

  “You realise tracking my phone and turning up unannounced to my place and my work isn’t normal, right?”

  “In my world, it is,” I mutter.

  “In my world, it’s called stalking. We were over and you turned up where I was.”

  “We were still fucking,” I growl out. “You remember the party?” I ask, and she looks away. “Your new boyfriend was with his mates, and where were you, Laura? What were you doing?” When she doesn’t answer, I laugh. “You were on your fucking knees choking on my cock in the bathroom. You called me that night, a booty call cos you were horny, and your man was busy with his boys.”

  “I’m not doing this with you,” she hisses. “Get the fuck out.”

  I open the door. “I just want you to know, if you keep this up, messing up my life, I’ll have no choice but to put a stop to it.”

  “A stop? Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m happy, Laura. I’ve got myself an ol’ lady and I wanna move on and forget about you. Stop dragging me back in. Let me go.”

  She scoffs. “I let you go a very long time ago. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I go to the police station to sign my bail, then meet Lake to grab a shipment at the docks. We’re halfway through loading the stock onto a lorry when my mobile starts blowing up with calls from Lottie. “Leave it,” mutters Lake. “We gotta get this load moving before the cops come sniffing around. Vinn’s expecting us right after this to help with security at the club.”

  “Fine,” I say, sighing. “I’ll call her later.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  LOTTIE

  He never answers his phone. Coward. I scowl at the picture message I received an hour ago from an unknown number. It’s Storm, naked, asleep in someone’s bed. I stare at the bedside drawer longingly. The urge to cut is so strong right now, but I’m trying to avoid it simply because Storm is making the effort to not drink, and I should do the same. Maybe if I just hold the tin, the cold feel of the metal will bring me a sense of calm.

  I reach inside and take it, holding it to my chest and closing my eyes. A nurse once told me to take deep breaths and count them, so I give it a try. The bedroom door opens, surprising me, and the tin flies from my hand and clatters to the floor, scattering the contents. Seb looks down and then at me.

  “Sorry, Seb, you scared me.” I drop to my knees and collect the blades up, dropping them back into the tin and shoving it away in the drawer. “Everything okay?”

  “That’s a cool tin,” he says. “Can I see it?”

  “It’s nothing. Let’s go for a walk with Bently,” I say, distracting him. He agrees, and I

  guide him from the room, thankful he didn’t walk in and find me cutting.

  I wake with a start to find Storm standing over me. I slowly sit up and blink a few times, realising it’s dark outside. I glance at my bedside clock—two in the morning. “Why are you in here?” he growls.

  “It’s my bed,” I mutter. There was no way I was gonna sleep in his room after those pictures and a whole day and night of radio silence from him. “Where have you been all day?”

  He flicks on the bedside light, and I stare at his blood-soaked shirt. “Busy.”

  “Too busy to answer my calls?”

  “Yes. I told you before, I have work to do that could keep me away from you. You can’t be calling me all the damn time.”

  “Right,” I mutter, pulling my sheet back over me and lying down. “Thanks for clarifying. Goodnight.”

  “You’re not sleeping in here. Get in our bed.”

  “No. I’m happy here. Close the door on your way out.”

  “Don’t fucking test me tonight, Lottie. I’ve had a day from hell, and I want my woman in our bed.”

  “You weren’t too fussed earlier about me so . . .”

  He growls before scooping me in his arms, marching me back to his room, and dumping me on the bed. “I need to shower. Stay there.”

  I glare at him angrily. He thinks he can just take what he wants whenever he wants? I’m not that kind of girl. Once he’s in the shower, I storm back to my room, only this time, I lock the door. Arsehole.

  I hear his heavy footfalls on the landing a few minutes later, then he bangs on the door. “I get that you’re mad at me, butterfly, but I still need you in my bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Where were you today?” I repeat and hear his heavy, impatient sigh. “Only, I got a message telling me, so I suggest you be honest with me now.”

  “I was with Lake. Go ask him.”

  “Before that? Lake didn’t leave until a couple of hours after you.”

  “I had a job on. Lottie, I told you this already. Open the fucking door.”

  “Did you see Laura today?” It’s a random guess, but I don’t know any of his exes apart from her. There’s a long pause. “You’re an arse,” I mutter.

  “I went to see her, yeah, but I had to speak to her about this bullshit she’s spinning for the cops.”

  “And how exactly did you do that?” I ask. “Did you fuck her?”

  “What?” he asks. “No fucking way. Butterfly, I’d never do that to you. Open the door.”

  “You’ve done it before so . . . anyway, I saw the picture. You were naked in her bed.”

  “Show me,” he snaps. “I can’t defend myself if I haven’t seen the evidence.”

  I snatch my phone off the bedside table and unlock the door. He takes it from my grasp and stares at the picture. “It’s an old picture.”

  “Right,” I mutter.

  “It’s an old picture,” he says more firmly and points to a tattoo on his chest. “I had this done two months ago. It’s not on my chest in this picture.” I stare back and forth, feeling my face flush. How did I not notice that? “Get your arse in my bed right now,” he growls. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  I take the phone from him and sheepishly head for his room. He slides into bed beside me, gently pushing me onto my stomach and kneeling between my legs. He rubs his hand over my opening, and I push my face into the pillow to muffle my whimpers. He guides himself into me, growling with each slow thrust. “I love you,” he murmurs in my ear. “Always and forever. You can trust me.”

  I nod. “I love you too.” We come together, and I
fall to sleep with his strong arms wrapped around me. I feel stupid for doubting him, but for once, I didn’t cut when the going got tough, and that makes me smile. Progress, right?

  “Sometimes, self-harm is used as a way to be in control,” explains Eleanor. “Tell me a little about your history. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t know my dad and my mum was an addict. I was taken into care when I was around six years old and . . .” I pause, wondering if I say the words out loud, it’ll change how Storm feels about me. He smiles, encouraging me to continue. “I was abused when I was a teenager. Groomed by a gang.” I feel Storm tense. “I didn’t see it at the time. I thought the guy loved me, but he reeled me in and then passed me around his friends. They weren’t his real friends, of course, but that’s what he told me.”

  “You said your mum was an addict. That’s past tense. Don’t you see her now?”

  I shake my head again. “She’s dead, and I’m okay with that. I made peace with it. She didn’t give me up voluntarily, social care took me from her. Addiction is an illness, so I don’t blame her.”

  “And so, you met a man and you were in a relationship?” she asks.

  “Yes. He brought me trainers and a mobile. He’d pick me up in his BMW, and I felt grown up. I was fifteen, so all my friends were envious of me. After a couple of months, he took me to a party, and I got drunk. I’d never drank before, so it hit me really hard. I woke up in bed with Ali and another man. They were touching me and stuff . . .” I trail off, hanging my head. “Anyway, that became a regular thing. He’d say if I loved him, I’d help him out by being nice to his friends.”

  “That’s pretty tough. How did you escape that?” she asks, writing notes in her book.

  “I met Justin.” I smile at the thought. “He was at one of the parties, and I was talking to him. I think Ali must have approached him and asked if he wanted to have sex with me. That’s when I realised he was charging people, selling me. He said yes, and once we were in the bedroom, he helped me out the window. We left Leeds after that and moved around regularly. He stuck with me.”

  “And then he left you for your fucking friend?” snaps Storm.

  I nod. “He got tired of me. He said he didn’t know how to help me anymore. I don’t blame him. The truth is, I didn’t want help because I didn’t see it as a problem. It made me feel better.”

  “Did you get help after what happened to you?” asks Eleanor.

  “No. I was happy with Justin, so I didn’t think I needed it, and the cutting helped.”

  “How long were you with Ali?” she asks.

  “Three years. I was eighteen when Justin found me.”

  “And you’ve been cutting ever since?”

  “Yes. It makes me feel better when things are too much.”

  “Did you cut last night?” Storm snaps. He grabs my arm and roughly pulls up my sleeve. Eleanor frowns, biting on her pen. When there’s no fresh cuts, he releases me. “Was that because I’ve taken your blade?”

  “Why have you taken it?” asks Eleanor.

  Storm glares at her like she’s lost her mind. “Because I don’t want her to hurt herself.”

  “Mental pain can sometimes feel worse than physical pain,” she says.

  “So, you think I should let her continue?”

  “I think you shouldn’t take her choices away without giving her another coping mechanism.”

  “I’m fine,” I butt in. “It’s okay.”

  “Then tell me what to do,” growls Storm. “Tell me how to fucking help her instead of asking her about some bastard who sold her for sex.” His voice is raised, and I flinch.

  “If you’re finding this hard, you can have separate sessions,” she suggests calmly.

  “But then I wouldn’t know any of this, would I?” He turns to me. “Why haven’t you told me any of this?” My heart sinks. He’s disgusted.

  “How do I drop that into a conversation?” I ask quietly. “I didn’t want you to hate me or see me for the dirty whore I was.”

  Storm’s face softens and he crouches before me, taking my hands in his. “Butterfly, I don’t think that, and I definitely don’t hate you. I’m so mad right now, but not with you, with the bastards who laid their hands on you, on my beautiful butterfly. I want to hunt them down and rip them apart. I just wish you’d told me.”

  Eleanor is smiling. “It’s clear you have support, Charlotte. We need to work through the things that happened to you, and we need to find a way for you to cope without reaching for a blade. But for now, I want you to read this.” She hands me a leaflet. “I know you’ve probably heard all this before, and until we go over the reasons you feel so out of control, you’ll probably think this information is crap. But read it. And between now and next week, I want you to write down every time you get the urge to self-harm. If you feel able, write what happened right before the urge so we can identify any triggers. Then, I want you to try and delay that feeling. So, tell yourself, I’ll go for a twenty-minute walk first, or I’ll see my friends first. If you delay, the urge may pass.”

  I nod, tucking the leaflet into my bag. “We’re going to get you through this,” she adds, and for the first time, I feel like I’ve found a professional who gets me.

  STORM

  “I gotta find these arseholes,” I growl, pacing back and forth. We’re in church, and I had to tell the brothers what happened to Charlotte. We have to find the paedophile ring and end it.

  “Let me tell you the good news before you go and get yourself involved in another murder investigation,” says Riggs. “I got a call from the solicitor. The police have dropped the charges against you. Raven gave her statement, saying she was with you on the night of Steven’s murder. She told them exactly what we practised, and with the Nottingham charter all saying the same, that you were all partying to celebrate you taking Raven as an ol’ lady, the cops have no choice but to drop the charges. The investigation is ongoing, but without a body and no evidence, they have nothing.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Pres.”

  “I’ll do some digging, see if I can trace this bastard and his gang,” says Brick.

  Lake’s staring straight ahead at the wall. “You okay, brother?” I ask.

  “She never said,” he mutters. “She didn’t fucking tell me.”

  “She doesn’t want anyone to know. I couldn’t keep this from you, though. These bastards could still be doing it. She said they always had girls around.”

  “I’m glad you told me,” he says. “I just wish she’d told me herself. She wanted to talk when she first got here, but I was always avoiding her. I feel like a shitbag for it now.”

  “You and me both,” I mutter, “but if it’s of any consolation, she said she’s dealt with it.”

  “Dealt with it?” he repeats, scowling. “Brother, she cuts her own flesh open. That ain’t somebody dealing with it.”

  I find Lottie sleeping. The counselling took it out of her, and she’s been washed out since we got home. I gently kiss her cheek, and she stretches out, smiling up at me. “Get showered and dressed, we’re going out to dinner,” I say.

  An hour later, when she steps from the bathroom, she takes my breath away. She’s wearing a short red dress and heels, and her hair hangs in loose curls around her shoulders. Her makeup is minimal, but she doesn’t need that shit cos she’s naturally beautiful. “Wow,” I mutter.

  She grabs her cardigan, but I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to cover your arms,” I say. “If anyone stares at you, I’ll kill them.”

  She smiles. “I won’t relax.”

  “Baby, you got naked on stage,” I remind her.

  “And I covered them with makeup.”

  “They’re on the insides of your arms, no one will notice.” I kiss her wrist and along her arm. “I want you to feel comfortable with me, scars and all.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she whispers.

  We go
to one of Vinn’s restaurants, the one his dad ran right before he was killed. “The women always talk about this place,” she says as we’re seated. “Apparently, it does the best carbonara.”

  “I’m a newbie to this place too,” I say. I don’t wine and dine women, not because I’m an arse, but romance like this ain’t really my thing. But after today, I thought Lottie needed to see how I feel about her.

  “Wine?” asks the waitress. I screw my nose up, so she hands the wine list to Lottie instead. Wine’s never been my thing, even when I was drinking heavily.

  “Just water for us both,” says Lottie. “Thanks.”

  “Butterfly, you can drink,” I offer.

  “I don’t want to. I want to remember every second of this date because I don’t think it’s something you do very often,” she says, grinning.

  “True. First time in a candlelit restaurant,” I admit. “I like steak houses and burger joints.”

  “I’ve never really been wined and dined. It’s always made me feel uncomfortable, like I don’t belong. Give me a burger joint any day,” she says.

  “Lottie, you can walk in any place and instantly belong. These people aren’t better than us because they sit down and eat posh food over a candle. I just wanted to show you how much I love you. Leia said this place is perfect for romance.”

  “I appreciate it,” she says softly. “Today was hard on us both, but I don’t want it to change us. I’m not a delicate little flower. I won’t break.”

  “You were brave today, saying all that personal stuff in front of me and a stranger.”

  “It doesn’t haunt me like it used to. I understand it wasn’t my fault, though it took me a long time to see that, but I don’t think about it like I used to. I’ve moved on.”

  “I guess we both have a shady past, but we’ll talk about it in time,” I say.

  “We’ve got forever, right?”