Page 4 of Storm

“You ever been to jail?”

“Jail, yeah. Not prison.”

“It wasn’t easy. Let’s just leave it at that,” he says, pulling his hand away from the bottle. I pull it toward me and bring it to my lips, taking a long pull before he snatches it out of my hand and finishes it off.

“You really don’t remember me?”

“I’m sorry, did you do something memorable?” I ask sarcastically.

“I killed a man.”

“And? Half the club has killed a man. Or more for that matter. That doesn’t make you memorable,” I inform him. He stares at me, his eyes darkening as he continues and I can’t seem to pull my gaze from his.

“How old were you? When I was sent away?”

“I’d guess around seven or eight.”

“How old are you now?” he asks.

“What the fuck difference does it make to you?”

“Just askin’, darlin’.”

“Well, don’t. I’m none of your concern,” I tell him before spinning around and walking away from him. I can feel his gaze on me and I don’t care.

I head over and flop down on the couch, kicking my feet up on the side, and lying across it.

“You want something for that lip?” Debbie, one of the club girls, asks.

“Nah, I’ll live.” She smiles and shakes her head before walking away. I see my uncle pull up a chair and sit next to me.

“You wanna tell me what the fight was about?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“It was over a man and his cock, uncle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” I laugh as he reaches up and runs his hand over his face.

“Is there gonna be a day that you don’t give me hell?”

“Probably not. It was a good thought, though.”

Chapter 2

Storm

I know she’s watching me, and I’m not sure why. She’s been out here for a fucking hour just acting like she isn’t watching my every move. It’s almost annoying if she wasn’t so fucking cute. But the club Princess is off limits to me, and I know it. Knew it before I ever got sent to the pen, and that was a long time ago.

I throw a few more punches and kicks before I grab my bottle of water and unscrew the cap, taking a long pull while keeping my eyes on her. She looks at the book in her hands and acts as if she’s ignoring me. When I’m finished, I crumble the bottle in my hand, toss it in the trash and grab my towel, walking toward her.

“Why are you watchin’ me?”

“Ha! Don’t think so highly of yourself,” she snaps back at me.

“You’ve been out here the whole time.”

“And? I always read out here.”