Page 25 of Storm's Deliverance

CHAPTER EIGHT

STORM

“It’s getting late.What time have you got to pick Zeke up from the restaurant?” Mom asks.

I look down at my phone and see it’s midnight. Knowing no restaurant will still be open this time of night, I yawn and rub my eyes. “I think I’m just going to head back to the apartment and wait for him to call. They’ve obviously gone out after.” I shrug. Kissing my mom’s cheek, I get to my feet, but I catch her giving my dad a look. “What?” I ask.

Dad stands, his broad, powerful frame stopping before me. “I don’t like the idea of you driving so late when you are this tired, and I really don’t fucking like that he expects you to wait up for him,” he says sharply.

“I will drive her car. You can follow on your bike and ride us home,” Mom interjects.

I don’t contest the idea. My eyes are dry and exhausted, and I just want to curl up in bed. “Sure, if you don’t mind.” I shrug.

“It’s been a while since your father and I went on a midnight run,” she says with a slow smile spreading across her face. Dad’s eyes spark with lust.

“Eww, okay, enough.” I wave them off. “Dad, can I ride with you?” I ask with pleading eyes.

He grins, pulling me to him before he places a kiss on the top of my head. “You know I would never say no to you.”

“Twenty-four years of age, and she still has you wrapped around her little finger.” Mom tuts, a smirk on her face.

“Whatever my princess wants, she gets.” Dad nods in agreement, his arm draped over my shoulder as we head out. “Rage, keep an eye on everything while I take Storm home,” he orders.

Mom hands me my own helmet; black with a spray-painted Black Hearts MC patch on it. All of us girls got one. I fasten it, with Dad having to double-check it, and hand Mom my keys. She jumps in my car, quickly changing the stereo to one of her favourite songs before she lowers all the windows and turns the volume up. Alice in Chains, Man in the Box, blares out as Mom sings along, speeding off, her hand waving out the window as she goes.

“Your mom is the craziest fucking bitch I know,” Dad mutters as he sits on his bike, starting her up.

“Dad! You can’t say that,” I chastise.

“Why the fuck not? She is, and it’s one of the many reasons why I love her. Never a dull fucking moment. If old age doesn’t kill me, your mom will. But at least I will die fucking happy.” He grins.

I climb on the back of his bike and wrap my arms around his waist. Resting my cheek on his back, I breathe in leather, oil, and musk. I sigh, closing my eyes as he pulls off. Some people take comfort in playing board games with their dad, or watching sports, but for me it’s being on the back of his bike.

The cool breeze caresses my face as the loud rumble of his engine and the freedom of the open road surrounds us. He places his hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knows this is one of my favourite places to be. I used to beg him when I was younger to go on runs with him, which I couldn’t, so I wouldcry, heartbroken. Dad would always come back, whether he had been gone a day or three, and he would take me straight out on a ride.

He turns down our street, and I see Mom parked up casually, leaning against the car, the moonlight highlighting her silhouette. She grins, taking a step forward when she spots us. Dad comes to a stop, and I climb off, removing my helmet before I hand it to Mom to use. She takes it, kissing my cheek.

“Your lights are on, so I guess he made it home.” She nods up in the direction of the apartment. I look up and see the lights on.

“Oh,” I mutter, surprised and a little confused, wondering why he wouldn’t have rang or texted me. “Probably fallen asleep in front of the TV.” I shrug.

“You good?” Dad asks, his sharp ice gaze watching me.

I nod and give him my best reassuring smile. “All good. Go. I will call you in the week,” I state.

“Okay, baby,” Mom says softly as she climbs on the back of Dad’s bike, her hands gliding under his black T-shirt.

“Woman,” Dad warns.

“Casper,” she taunts.

“Okay, I’m not going to witness your foreplay. Go, and I will see you in the week.” I usher them while grabbing my bag out of my car before locking it. Dad grins before pulling off. I can’t help but smile and shake my head at them as I make my way up to the apartment.

Unlocking the door, I step in. The TV is on, but no sign of Zeke. I place my bag and keys on the counter as I make my way through the apartment. Frowning, I make my way towards our bedroom. I’m about to call out for him when the bedroom door swings open, and Angela, another surgeon he works with, halts. Her gaze briefly lands on mine before she looks away, pulling her open blouse together and scurrying past me.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and my stomach sinks as bile threatens to rise. The front door slams shut behind me. I can’t look away from Zeke, standing in our room, shirtless, his pants pulled up but undone. My eyes travel to the bed, the sheets now a crumpled mess. I swallow, blinking, taking everything in before me. I look back to Zeke.

“It’s not what you think,” he starts, holding his hands up, like he’s surrendering. Surrendering to what? I haven’t moved, and I haven’t said a word. I don’t think I’ve even blinked. He takes a cautious step towards me, his eyes round with worry and guilt, drowning in guilt. “We just drank too much. You know what it’s like. Like you and Drix.” He runs his hands through his hair as he begins to pace.