Slay (Storm MC #4) (18 page)

I climbed the stairs slowly.  Exhaustion still owned me, and my dreams still hadn’t left me alone.  I intended to lie down on Layla’s bed to wait for her, but Annie smiled at me from the couch and I stopped to say hi.  We hadn’t spoken much, and I wanted to change that.  I wanted to spend time not only with Layla, but also with the people who meant something to her.

“Hi,” I murmured as I approached her.

“Hi Donovan.” 

She spoke in such a timid voice.  I fucking hated her father for what he’d done to her, and the fact Layla had taken to him with a knife pleased me to no fucking end.

That’s my girl.

“Can I sit with you?” I asked, respectful of her choice to be on her own if that was what she preferred.

Wide eyes stared up at me, and I thought for sure she would say no, but she surprised me when she said yes. 

“How’s your day been?” I asked, trying to break the ice.

“Good.  I helped Layla for a few hours in the bar this afternoon, so I think she’s happy with me.”

Fuck.

“Annie, Layla loves you and is always happy with you.  Helping her in the bar doesn’t make her happier with you.  She just wants
you
to be happy.”

“I’m happy when she’s happy.”

Jesus, we’ve got a lot of work to do here.

“So, tell me, what kinds of things do you like to do in your spare time?”

She thought about it, and after a couple of moments of silence, I thought she had nothing, but then she said, “I used to like ice skating, and Layla and I used to do it all the time until Julian hurt her.”

Annie had my full attention now.  “Who is Julian?”

“He was Layla’s boyfriend.  The one she met while we still lived on the streets.  He was the one who saved us.”

“When did you live on the streets?”

Her face became a mask and she shut down.  “I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff,” she said, and turned away from me.  The way she huddled into herself told me I’d really hit a nerve with this conversation.

“I’m sorry, Annie.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She didn’t respond and we sat in silence for a while.  Eventually, I got up and made my way into Layla’s bedroom.  I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes for a minute.  A quick rest before Layla came up wouldn’t hurt.

***

“Donovan.”

A hand touched my shoulder and gently rocked me, waking me up.  I cracked an eye open to find Layla staring down at me.

I opened both eyes.  “Shit, sorry,” I muttered as I got my bearings.  “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of hours.  I came up and you wouldn’t stir so I left you to sleep, but your phone’s been ringing nonstop so I thought I should wake you in case it’s important.”

Fuck, Ben and Merrick were waiting for me.

I sat up and took my phone off her.  “Thanks, I’ve gotta check this.”

“No worries.”  She smiled at me as I left the bed and exited the room.

I headed downstairs and outside to make the call to Merrick.

“Where the fuck have you been, Blade?”

“I fucking fell asleep.”

“Ben’s got Phil.  They’re at his house.”

“Okay, I’m heading over now.”

I hung up and jogged upstairs to say goodbye to Layla.  She was waiting for me on her bed.  Naked.

“Jesus,” I muttered as my eyes feasted on her beauty.

She smiled up at me as I walked to the edge of the bed, but as the realisation I wasn’t staying dawned on her, the smile slid off her face.  “You’re leaving?”

Nodding, I said, “Sorry, baby, I’ve got something I have to take care of right away.  It can’t wait.”

Fuck, I hated to do this to her.

I ran my hand along her jaw before I let it drop to her collarbone where I traced a line down to her breast.  Her hand met mine, and she grasped my wrist and pulled my hand away from her body.

Angry eyes glared at me.  “Don’t fucking start something you’re not going to finish.”

“I am going to finish it, just not now.  I’ll be back in a couple of hours for that.”

She shook her head.  “No, I’ll be asleep.  Don’t come back tonight.”

Annoyance shot through me.  “Don’t do this, Layla.  I have to take care of this but trust me when I say I’d rather stay here with you.”

Her glare challenged me.  “Well, stay.  It’s your choice, Donovan.”

“No, it’s not.”

We stared silently at each other, neither willing to back down. 

Eventually, I said, “I have to go.  I’ll call you when I’m done.”

She didn’t say anything and I left.  I had to.  I couldn’t put it off any longer.

But I couldn’t put her glare and her silence out of my mind.

And it fucked with my concentration.

***

As I entered Phil’s home a little while later, my demons roared to life at the sight of him tied to a chair with dried blood painted on his face.  The wild look on his face as he watched me approach also pleased me.

“Thanks for fitting us in to your busy schedule, Deacon,” I said.

Ben had gagged him, so he couldn’t form a reply but he grunted his displeasure.

I pulled up a chair and sat next to him.  “It seems we have a problem that only you can help us solve.”  I paused and then continued, “As you know, we had a couple of hundred men walk offsite today due to some fucked up union representative’s encouragement.  And now we need you to fix that.”

He grunted, and I decided I’d had enough of his silence.  I pulled my knife out and cut the gag from his mouth.  The fear in his eyes at the sight of my knife encouraged me.  I stood and grabbed his hair.  Shoving my face closer to his, I pushed his head back to expose his neck.  I ran my blade across it, light enough not to draw blood, but heavy enough to induce more fear.

“What do you say, Deacon?  You gonna fix that shit for us?”

“Fuck you, Blade,” he spat.

Anger roared in my ears, forcing the blood in my veins to pump furiously through me.  “What the fuck did you just say?” I thundered, pressing the knife harder against his throat.

As the first drop of blood kissed my blade, he answered me, “I said, fuck you, motherfucker.”

I pushed his head hard so it snapped back before bouncing forward again.  My body moved fast as I kicked my chair out of the way, cut his restraints off, dropped my knife on the table next to us, and yanked him out of the chair.  Gripping him by his shirt, I shoved him hard against the wall, and immediately punched him in the face.  Blood spurted onto my shirt but I ignored it.  My only focus was Phil.

And Layla
.

Fuck.

I couldn’t get her angry glare and words out of my head.

Shit, I needed to concentrate on Phil.

In that momentary lapse of concentration, he punched me twice.  I stumbled back, shocked at this turn of events.  No one ever distracted me when I was dealing with shit like this. 

“Fuck,” Merrick swore, and he and Ben fought to restrain Phil again.  Merrick eventually held Phil back by his arms and scowled at me.  “Get your fucking head in the game, Blade.”

I glared at him.  “It fucking is.”

“No, it’s fucking not, asshole.”

Ben interrupted us.  “Ladies, let’s just get this done and then you two can bicker as much as you want.  Yeah?”

We both scowled at him.  “Fuck you, Ben,” Merrick muttered.

“Enough!” I roared, and punched Phil hard in the gut.  “Tell me you’re gonna fix this shit, Phil.  I’ve let you off every other fucking time you’ve screwed us over, even that time you had the shit beaten out of my men, but this time I’m not letting shit slide.”

And there was the look I was searching for.  The one that told me he would do what I wanted.  It was the look of terror mixed with resignation, and it usually meant my opponent just needed one last bit of encouragement before they gave in.

I looked at Ben.  “Call Onyx and get him over here.  I think he and Phil need to have a little chat.”  Onyx was the guy you called when you needed shit taken care of.  People thought I was a crazy motherfucker.  I had nothing on Onyx.

Phil’s eyes started blinking and I could have sworn he shit himself.  “No!  I’ll fix it, Blade.”

I shook my head.  “Call him,” I said to Ben. 

Looking at Merrick, I said, “Restrain him until Onyx gets here.”  I picked up my knife and started to head for the front door.

“What the fuck, Blade?  You’re leaving?” Merrick asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got shit to get back to,” I answered him without looking back.  I was focused on one thing only. 

Getting back to Layla.

Chapter Seventeen

Layla

I took the night off.

After Donovan left to take care of his shit, anger consumed me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on work.  So I locked myself away upstairs and stewed on it.

Annie had retreated into her bedroom so I sat alone.  Never a good thing when you’re angry.  But I craved it tonight.  I
wanted
to be angry.  Kind of like when you’re sad and all you want is to lose yourself in sad songs.

Donovan leaving me when I thought we were spending the night together had brought up old feelings of rejection by my parents.  Stupid, I knew, especially after I’d told Donovan only last night we had to unlearn the expectation of rejection.  It seemed this would be harder than I thought if my reaction tonight was anything to go by.

I ignored his five phone calls.

He’d been gone an hour and a half when the first call came.  They’d continued to come every five minutes or so, with the last one over ten minutes ago.  I guessed he’d given up, and that began a new round of anger. 

God, could I be any more fucked up?  I didn’t want him to call, and yet, when he stopped trying, I wanted him to keep trying.  I drove myself mad with my crazy behaviour.

Fuck, this was a good reason to stay single.  It had to be a better option than sending yourself mad with stupid expectations.  Expectations you knew you shouldn’t have but that you couldn’t fight.

“Layla!”

Donovan.

I stood and watched as he stalked into my lounge room with a look of fury on his face.  He stopped a little over two feet from me, his eyes boring into mine.  “I’ve been calling you.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“I didn’t want to.”

He exhaled sharply.  “Fucking hell,” he muttered, pushing his fingers through his hair.

We stood sizing each other and the situation up in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” I blurted out, stating the fucking obvious.

“I can see that,” he said in a tight voice.

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“Yes, please go.  I need to think.”

He came toward me with that intense look of his I knew well.  Before I could stop him, he slid his hand around my waist and yanked me the rest of the way to him.  Bending his face to mine, he growled, “No, you don’t need to think.  You need to feel.”

His spare hand pressed against my stomach and then slid down into the shorts I was wearing.  I sucked in a breath when his hand slipped inside my panties and he held my pussy in his hand and gripped tight.  He moved so he could whisper in my ear, “Feel that, baby.  Feel my fucking need for you.”  Then his hand around my waist moved to my ass and pushed me into him, into his erection.  “Feel how hard my dick is for you.”

“I feel you, Donovan, but it doesn’t take my anger away.”

His lips crushed to mine in a brutal kiss.  We both poured our anger and passion into it.  Lips, tongues and teeth collided.  My body pulsed with pleasure, and my mind raced to process the mixed emotions assaulting it.  I kissed him, but at the same time, I fought him.  My hands tried to push him off me, but his strength wouldn’t allow it.  His hold on me was too hard to fight.  And when he pushed his fingers inside my pussy, I jerked from the explosion of sensations that shot through me.

I moaned into his mouth.  I couldn’t stop it.

He pulled away from the kiss to stare at me.  “You feel it, don’t you?” he demanded as his fingers continued to pleasure me.

“Yes,” I said, and pulled his face back to mine.  Our lips met in another excruciating kiss.

Oh god.  This man could be my saviour and my downfall all rolled into one if I wasn’t careful.

His fingers worked me into a frenzy, until I was a panting mess in his arms.  As I came, he rasped, “I fucking love watching you come.”

I opened my eyes and focused on him.  His need was written all over his face, and my core clenched at that.  My need still warred with my anger, but need would always win out.  I grasped his face in my hands and begged him, “Fuck me, Donovan.”

A growl rumbled out of his chest, and he lifted me into his arms.  My arms and legs wrapped around him, and he carried me into my bedroom depositing me on the bed.  He tore his clothes off, not taking his eyes off me while I frantically stripped, too.  I was sprawled across the bed, and he spread my legs before moving on top of me.  As he did that, I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight, ready for him to take me.  His cock pressed against my entrance but he didn’t push in yet. 

Staring down at me, he asked, “You gonna stay mad for long?”

“Just fuck me.”  My eyes pleaded with his.

He teased me with his cock, pushing it against me and then pulling away.  “No,” he grunted, “tell me.”

I moved my hands to his head and pulled hard on his hair.  “I don’t know.”

He buried his face in my neck and bit me hard before sucking and licking me. 

Fuck, yes.

I tilted my hips, trying to push myself into his cock, but he moved his hips up, thwarting me. 

“Fuck me!” I demanded, and his head reared up, angry eyes coming to mine.

“Feel me!” he yelled back.

“I am fucking feeling you.”

“No, you’re not!”  He pushed up off me, and although I had my legs tight around him, his strength was too much for me to fight and he pushed through my hold and stood.  Standing at the edge of the bed, body straining with anger and passion, he demanded, “Put all that shit out of your head, and feel it here.”  He pounded on his chest before continuing. “Life’s too fucking short to let that other shit get in the way of what we feel, and I’m not going to fucking lose it again.”