Havoc (Storm MC #8) (10 page)

C
hrist
, am I wasting my time?

I’d been trailing Davey all day, all over town, and had learnt nothing about the guy that would help King. He’d spent the day doing his dry cleaning, having lunch with some woman, shopping for X-Box games, shopping for groceries and was currently at the library.

At the fucking library.

I hadn’t heard from King yet, so I figured doing something was better than nothing. I’d trailed him the day before too with no success and was beginning to think the key to helping King didn’t lay with Davey.

Maybe I would have to look for dirt on Jackson instead.

Fuck, I wasn’t used to being wrong about shit. I’d been sure Davey had to have something deep in his closet.

My phone rang.

Carla.

I answered without hesitation. “You good?”

“One of the things I like about you, Havoc, is your lack of small talk. You just get straight to the point.” I could hear the smile in her voice and it settled me. It eased some of my concern over her. She’d been thrashing about in the bed that morning like a fucking maniac and in my experience, the only thing to cause that kind of behaviour was some deep fucking emotions.

“And one of the things I like about you is that you don’t bug me incessantly about mindless crap. What’s up?”

“Steak or chicken?”

“Huh?” I had no fucking clue what she meant.

“Do you prefer steak or chicken?”

“Steak.” I followed Davey out of the library as I answered her. When he turned to walk in the opposite direction to where he’d parked, my attention strayed from the phone call to him.

Where the fuck is he going?

“Okay, steak it is,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

We ended the call as Davey entered the park next to the library. I held back and waited to see what he planned to do there. It was only a small park with a few swings and one shaded table to sit at. A few mothers were there with their kids and as I watched Davey walk past them, another guy caught my eye.

I squinted so I could make out what they were doing.

The guy spoke first and then Davey grabbed his shirt and appeared to threaten him because fear crossed the guy’s face at that point. A moment later, he produced a package from his jacket and handed it to Davey.

Bingo.

As Davey exited the park with a smug expression, I changed course.

I followed the other guy.

H
e works for Jackson
?

I’d followed the guy back to Jackson’s warehouse and as I killed the engine on my bike, I wondered what the fuck he had going with Davey. I also wondered how long I’d be sitting outside waiting for him.

It was nearing four and my dick ached to get back to Carla. I had plans for her that night that included me getting the fuck back to the motel as fast as possible. Plans that didn’t include sitting around waiting for some schmuck while he fucked about inside Jackson’s warehouse.

The door to the warehouse opened and the guy walked out.

Well shit, maybe this won’t take long after all.

He walked to his car and I followed him as he drove through the streets of Sydney to a small house about fifteen minutes away. After he entered the house, I parked my bike and headed around to the back. As I walked through a well-cared for garden that led to a back yard that had bras and panties hanging on the clothesline, I decided he either lived with a woman or this was a woman’s home.

I’d have to be careful.

The back door was unlocked and I easily entered the house. Male and female voices filtered through the hall and I walked in their direction. Startled eyes met mine when I hit the kitchen.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy advanced towards me, but the woman grabbed his shirt and pulled him back.

I held up my hands. “Easy, man. I’ve just got a few questions to ask you.”

His brows raised. “So you just break into my home to do that? Who the fuck does that?”

I ignored the scared pleas of his woman to leave them alone. My intention wasn’t to hurt them, but they didn’t need to know that yet. “You work for Jackson Jones, yeah?”

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth and she screamed out, “Oh, my God, Paul! You told me he would never find out!”

I watched as she started to lose her shit. Tears streamed down her face and her body shook. She curled into the guy who put his arm around her to try to console her.

Paul’s cold eyes met mine. “He knows, doesn’t he? Fuck! Davey promised me he wouldn’t say anything, but I should have known that good-for-nothing asswipe wouldn’t keep his word.”

“I don’t work for Jackson if that’s what you think.” I wanted them to keep talking, but I didn’t want to give too much away.

His forehead pinched into a frown. “Well who the fuck do you work for, then?”

“That’s information I’m not willing to share, but what I do want from you is to know what was in that package you gave Davey today?”

His frown slowly eased and relief crossed his face. “You’ve got nothing, have you?”

I quirked a brow. “You willing to take a gamble on that?”

The woman wiped the tears from her eyes as she watched me. “Tell him, Paul. Maybe he can help us.”

Paul stared at me for a long few moments and I recognised the hopelessness on his face. Whatever the hell was going on with them was clearly eating him up. Eventually, he blew out a breath and muttered, “Fuck.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he moved away from the woman and paced in the tiny kitchen. When his eyes found mine again, I knew he was about to give me what I needed. “I’m one of Jackson’s right-hand guys. When Davey discovered I was dating Marnie, Jackson’s ex, he blackmailed us. He knew that if Jackson found out we were dating, he’d lose his shit over it and God knew what he’d do to Marnie.”

He was right. I’d heard of Jackson’s inability to let ex’s go. Stories of him slicing a guy’s dick off over an ex had circulated, and while I wasn’t sure whether to believe it, Jackson was psycho enough for it to be true. “Or what he’d do to you.”

He nodded. “Right. But I’m more concerned for Marnie.”

“How long ago did you break up with Jackson?” I asked her.

“About six months.”

“And he’s got a new woman?”

She nodded. “He’s dated three women since me and has been with the current one for three months now.”

I processed that while thinking about the blackmail. “What was in that package, Paul?”

“Cash and drugs.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “You’re stealing from Jackson to pay Davey?”

He shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as he should have been. Jackson would likely kill him for theft. “It’s what Davey asked for. I panicked.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Marnie begged, her eyes wide with fear again.

“Sorry, but that’s not an option here. If I were you two, I’d be jumping in my car now and leaving town.” Right up until the moment Paul had told me he was stealing from Jackson, I’d held hope they would escape his wrath. I no longer held that hope. They were screwed, but it was their own doing. People needed to think more about the consequences of their actions.

Paul’s anger unleashed itself and he came at me with a punch. I’d been waiting for it, though, and blocked him with ease. The guy wasn’t built for fighting.

I pulled him close, twisted him around and settled my arm across his chest to hold him in place. Squeezing him hard, I growled, “There’s no time left for you to be fighting, asshole. You’ve made your bed, now you gotta lie in it. I’ll give you the night, but first thing tomorrow morning, I’m taking this information to my boss.” I squeezed him hard once more as I asked, “You got that?”

I let him go and pushed him away. As he stumbled back to where Marnie stood, he choked out, “Yeah. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

With fucking pleasure.

I’ve got better things to be doing right now.

I
t was
close to six when I walked through the motel room door that night. Although it had been a long day, a sense of anticipation ran through me that I was beginning to associate with Carla. It had been years since I’d experienced that kind of feeling. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I tried to ignore it. Trouble was, that was a hard thing to do when your dick was loving the hell out of it.

“Carla?” I called out as I walked through to the bathroom.

She was nowhere to be seen.

I pulled out my phone and sent her a text asking her where she was. A second later, the sound of a text beeped from the bedside table on her side of the bed.

Shit.

Where the fuck is she?

I stalked to the door and yanked it open.

And came face-to-face with her.

I frowned.

“Havoc! Quick, let me in, these are hot!”

I stepped aside to let her through and then closed the door after us. She carried two dinner plates covered in tin foil and quickly dumped them on the table near the television.

Turning to me, she grinned. “You hungry?”

I frowned again, confused about what I was seeing. Jerking my chin at the plates, I asked, “What is that?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Dinner. What else would it be?”

I moved closer to her. “I figured that, but what I can’t figure out is where you got them from?” As far as I knew, the motel didn’t have a restaurant and I didn’t recall one being close enough for her to casually go out to and carry two hot plates back from.

“I cooked them.” She answered me as if I’d asked her the stupidest question.

“Darlin’, we’re staying in a motel with no kitchen and I’ve never heard of kitchens just being conveniently available for people to cook dinner at, so forgive me if I’m a little confused about
where or how
you cooked our dinner.”

Understanding dawned on her face as he made an ‘O’ with her lips. “Oh, I see what you mean. I thought you might like a home-cooked type dinner so I asked the motel owners if I could use their kitchen. They’re this sweet older couple and they said yes.”

I thought you might like a home-cooked dinner.

I hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in longer than I could remember.

My mind kicked into gear and I remembered our phone call from earlier in the day. “Steak or chicken,” I murmured.

She frowned. “Yeah, we went with steak, remember?”

A home-cooked meal.

“Havoc?”

I blinked.

“Steak
was
right, wasn’t it?” she asked. “I could swear you said steak.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I said steak.” My voice was as gruff as my emotions.

She smiled and it lit the fucking room up. “Oh, thank God, because I don’t have it in me to go back and cook more shit for you.”

I was still trying to gather my thoughts. “You don’t like cooking?”

“God no! I might be a waitress, but serving food and cooking it are two different things. And besides, I don’t want to be a waitress forever.”

“We could have just gone out for dinner, babe.”

She paused for a moment. “Yeah, I know, but I figure if you’re always on the road, it must be ages since you’ve had a meal cooked for you. I thought you might like a change from fast food.” She gestured towards the two plates. “We need to eat before this goes cold.”

For the next ten minutes, we ate and I did my best to keep my emotions in check. Carla prattled on about some shit, but I hardly paid attention. For a woman who didn’t enjoy cooking, she sure as shit knew how to cook. The food was delicious. But wrapped up in all that food were thoughts and feelings I didn’t want to touch.

My mother.

Kelly.

Devastation and betrayal.

Hope.

“Are you okay tonight? You seem off.”

I focused my attention back to Carla who stared at me with open-concern.

Placing my utensils down, I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve just got some stuff on my mind.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Pushing my chair back, I stood. “No. I’m gonna have a shower.”

Before she could say anything else, I headed for the bathroom.

I needed some space.

Closing the door behind me, I pulled my clothes off and turned on the shower.

Silence.

Peace.

“Havoc.”

The door pushed open and I found myself staring at Carla as steam filled the tiny room.

“Not now,” I rasped, desperate for her to leave me be.

She didn’t.

“Yes, now,” she snapped. “I cooked you dinner. I went to some trouble for you. And while I don’t expect cartwheels and cheers of thanks, a simple acknowledgement would be nice. Just to know you at least enjoyed your dinner would be good.”

She rambled and the tangled strands of memories in my mind threatened to suffocate me.

Good.

Bad.

Unfinished business.

I can’t do this.

Not again.

“Havoc!”

I snapped.

Closing the distance between us, I pulled at the dress she wore. A moment later, it lay on the floor, along with her panties and bra. As she opened her mouth to speak, I pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t speak.”

My voice betrayed the jagged emotions gripping me, and her eyes widened. She gulped back her words and remained silent.

I dragged her into the shower with me and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Lowering my mouth to hers, I tore a kiss from her lips.

Fuck.

Every damn time.

Calm washed over me when she was in my arms. The fury that lived in my soul eased during those moments and brilliant light flashed through my mind. The kind of light that gave a man hope.

Hope that I didn’t want to feel, but that I could no longer deny.

Because it burst through me every single fucking time I was with her.

She began stroking my cock while I kissed her, and I groaned.

How can one woman make me feel so fucking good?

How the fuck can she come into my life and break my resolve so easily?

I deepened our kiss as my hands moved over her body. Unable to decide which part of her I wanted to touch the most, I chose to touch her everywhere.

Our mouths never left the others.

Our hands worked frantically to give each other pleasure.

And our souls joined to bring each other solace.

She was my refuge as well as my bliss and in that moment, I embraced it all.

When I entered her, she clung to me and moaned my name. The sound of my name on her lips jolted me to my senses. “Fuck, we need a condom,” I muttered, pulling out of her.

“We’re both clean.” Her words were almost a plea, as if she couldn’t wait the minute or so it would take me to get a condom.

My need matched hers. “You want me to keep going?”

She nodded and I didn’t hesitate. I thrust back in and fucked her how I knew she loved it.

When we came, it was together.

Fingers digging into flesh.

Teeth on skin.

Bodies slamming together.

Resolutions broken.