Slay (Storm MC #4) (26 page)

After Donovan fell asleep, I stayed awake as my mind processed it all.  I was beginning to feel sleepy now, and just as my eyes closed, he shifted again and murmured something in his sleep.  My eyes flew open to find him watching me with a look I didn’t recognise from him.

“Hey,” I whispered.

His arm tightened across my body as he whispered back, “Hey.”

I sensed he didn’t need me making small talk, so I remained silent, waiting for him to take the lead here.  We lay there watching each other quietly for what felt like ages, until he finally asked, “You okay?”

I nodded.  “Yeah.  Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.”

I reached my hand out to lightly trace his cheek.  “You’re an amazing man, Donovan Brookes,” I murmured.

He stared at me.  “I’m amazed you’re still here.  I thought you’d be long gone.”

I frowned.  “What?”

He moved so he was propped up on the bed, looking down at me.  “I killed my father today.  It wasn’t pretty, and yet, here you are, still watching over me.  Still making sure I’m okay.  That’s not something I’d expect from any woman.”

“I’m not just any woman, Donovan.  I’m
your
woman, and I don’t desert the ones I care about in their hour of need.”

His eyes searched mine, and then he muttered, “Fuck, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

I held his face.  “You’re a good man.  Don’t ever underestimate that or doubt it, okay?”

He didn’t answer me, so I reiterated it.  “Okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said softly.

“Good.  Now, come back here and let me hold you.  You need more sleep,” I said, bossing him around.  And, for once, he let me. 

My strong man needed me.  He needed to know he was accepted for who he was, no matter what he did.  And I was determined to give him that.

***

The next morning, I woke to find Donovan pacing the room while talking on his phone.  I didn’t want to eavesdrop on his conversation so I got out of bed and headed into the kitchen to make coffee.  He came out just as I’d finished, and I slid his mug across the counter to him. 

Eyeing his clothes, I said, “It’s a good thing I like to buy you clothes.”

He smirked.  “Yeah, baby.”

Donovan had once made fun of my clothes shopping addiction.  It was pretty much my only girly trait and I’d bought him quite a few pieces, which he’d left here. Thank god, because they came in handy now.

We drank our coffee in silence until he murmured, “I don’t understand where Sharon got the gun from.”

“She came back into the bar while you were outside with Marcus.  I was busy with customers, but managed to get out of her that you and he were fighting. I got distracted and didn’t realise she’d gotten the gun out of her bag.”

“Fuck, after all those years, she finally got rid of him.  Mind you, he may not have died from the gunshot wound.”

“Probably a good thing you finished the job then,” I mused.

“Why?”

“Would he have retaliated against her if he’d lived?”

He thought about that and slowly nodded.  “Yeah, I reckon he would have.”

I sipped my coffee and kept quiet.  It was up to Donovan now to decide if he wanted to talk about it or not.

He surprised me when he did speak.  “I don’t know what I feel.”

“Maybe it’s too soon, too fresh for you to know.”

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time, and I thought I’d feel a sense of immense satisfaction.”

“And you don’t?”

“It’s odd.  I don’t regret it for a minute, and I would do it again, but it’s not this overwhelming feeling of anything.  It’s like I feel . . . nothing about it.”  He raked his hand through his hair.  “Fuck, that doesn’t even make fucking sense.”  He paused for a moment, and then added, “After I did it, I felt a sense of justice . . . relief that he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again, but now, there’s just nothing.”

I reached across the kitchen counter and placed my palm on his chest.  “Stop thinking, baby.  Just let it be what it is.”

He covered my hand with his.  “You
do
listen to me,” he said, his lips twitching.

I smiled.  “Yeah, most of the time.”

He finished his coffee and rinsed his mug before coming back to me.  “I’ve got a lot of stuff to take care of today, so I’m not sure what time I’ll see you later.”

“It’s all good.  You take care of what you need to, and I’ll be here whenever you get back.”

He bent his face to kiss me and then asked, “Do you have any idea how much I need you in my life?”

“Probably as much as I need you in mine.”

I watched him leave and decided I’d never let him go. 

Ever.

Donovan Brookes was
it
for me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Blade

I stepped through the front door of my mother’s house with trepidation.  The news I had to break to her would either gut her or help her move on.  I wasn’t sure which.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted me with a smile as she wiped down the kitchen counters.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” I said, getting straight to the point.  I didn’t have it in me to drag this shit out.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to give me her full attention.  “What is it?”

I took a deep breath.  “Marcus is dead.”

Her eyes widened, and her whole body stilled.

I waited.

“How?” she asked eventually, her voice shaky.

I was never one to beat around the bush, so I didn’t start now.  “I killed him.”

Her hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh, God.”

Still unable to tell if she was upset or just in shock, I waited to see what she would say next.

She grasped the chair at the kitchen table and collapsed into it, but didn’t say another word.

I sat next to her.  “I’m not sorry I did it, and I would do it again, but I’m sorry if it hurts you.  I never wanted that for you.”

Reaching out for me, she cupped my chin.  “Donovan, it hurts but mostly because my son had such a bad father he felt it necessary to kill him.”  Her voice cracked as she continued.  “I did that to you, and for that I am sorry.”

I shook my head.  “No, I don’t blame you for that, Mum.”

We sat together quietly, lost in our own thoughts, and I realised something.  It’s easy to blame yourself for shit in your life and in the lives of those you love, but it just holds you back.  Mum had blamed herself for Marcus for far too long, and I’d blamed myself for Ashley for too long as well, and both of us had stopped living our lives fully.

“We have to stop this shit,” I muttered, standing.

Looking up at me with a frown, she asked, “What?”

“All this blame.  It gets us nowhere.  Shit happened, and we survived it.  We’re still breathing, but we’re not living.  We need to stop blaming ourselves and get on with life.”

She stood, too.  “When did you get so smart, baby?” she asked, softly.

“I don’t know, but I’m running with it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s time to move forward.”  She said the words, but I could hear the doubt in her voice.  This was going to take her some time to deal with.  Understandable seeing as Marcus had been a presence in her life for so long.

I embraced her, and when I let her go, I said, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

A small smile brightened her face.  “I thought you might.”

“How?”

“You’ve changed lately, and I’m pretty sure those kinds of changes are usually inspired by a good woman.  You better bring her over soon, because I want to meet the woman who has helped you.”

“I’ll do that,” I promised.

I knew she would love Layla, and I was fairly confident Layla would love her, too. 

A man was lucky if he had one good woman in his life. 

I had two.

***

I left Mum’s house and drove to see Madison.  She had the day off from work, so I was headed to her house.  I’d spoken with her on the phone about Marcus, and even though she said she was okay with it, I wanted to watch her face while she spoke the words.  That would tell me the truth.

She answered the door with a mixing bowl in her arms and flour all over her face.  Smiling at me, she said, “Just in time, big brother, we’ve just put some cookies in the oven.”

“We?” I asked as I walked inside.  The fact she was cooking concerned me.  Was it a distraction from thinking about Marcus’s death?

“Me and Harlow.”

I kept walking as she talked and ended up in the kitchen where Harlow was washing up dishes.  She turned to look at me, and I was stunned to see her haggard appearance.  She’d lost weight since I’d last seen her, and exhaustion marred her features. 

“Hi Blade,” she murmured.

I lifted my chin at her.  “Harlow.”

She gave me a small smile before turning back to her dishes.  I turned to Madison and widened my eyes questioningly.  She shook her head at me; it was her way of saying she’d tell me later.  I let it go.  We had other things to discuss.

“Talk to me,” I said to Madison as I grabbed a stool at her breakfast bar.

She sighed.  “I don’t know.  I hated him in the end, Blade.  You know that.  I’ve already grieved the loss of my father.  But to think he’s gone, and I’ll never see him again, I feel kinda sad even though I don’t want to.”  Her voice cracked at the end, and I reached for her hand to pull her to me.  I put my arms around her and held her.

“I think it would be weird for you not to feel sad, babe.  You grew up with a different father to me, and it’s only recently you’ve seen that other side to him, so you’re mourning a completely different man to the one I knew.  It’s okay to be sad, and it’s also okay to be conflicted about it.  There’s no right way to feel.”

“You have this way, you know that?” she said, softly.

“What way?”

She pulled out of my embrace.  “This way of saying just the right thing whenever I need to hear it.  Thank you.”

Harlow turned around and chimed in.  “She’s right, Blade.  You’re a special man.”

I stared at Harlow, uncomfortable with this conversation now.  Neither of them knew I had killed Marcus, and while I didn’t think they would care, it weighed on my mind.  I’d spoken with Scott this morning, and we’d agreed upon who would be made aware of what really happened yesterday.  That list included those who were present as well as Nash and J.  Scott had advised Sharon not to utter a word of it, either.  Griff and Scott had dumped Marcus’s body and tipped the cops off as to where it was.  They needed his death to be made public so they could move forward with club business.

“Have you spoken to your Mum?’ I asked, changing the subject.

“She came over this morning and it was the first time in ages we sat and talked about stuff so freely.  It’ll take her some time to sort her head out, but I think she’s gonna be okay.”

“And Scott?  How’s he handling it?”

I was surprised that Harlow answered me.  “He was in a bit of shock, but he was okay.”

Watching her closely, I said, “I know you and Scott are going through something, Harlow.  Are you doing okay?”

A sad look crossed her face.  “Not really,” she admitted softly.  She took a deep breath before opening up.  “I was pregnant and lost the baby.  Scott’s been amazing but I’m so lost and I don’t know how to move past it.  I need some time but he just wants to fix everything . . . You know what men are like, they see a problem and try to come up with ways to make it better, but this can’t be fixed.”

Fuck.

Harlow went back to her dishes before I could say anything.  It seemed like she needed some space so I left it.  My phone rang a moment later and I held it up, and said, “I’m gonna get going, babe.  Just wanted to stop in and make sure you were alright.”

She came to me with a hug.  “Thank you for coming over,” she murmured.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” I promised, and then left them to it.

As I answered my phone, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Scott and all the shit he had to deal with at the moment.  I hoped he was up to it, because with Marcus out of the picture, he had a lot to take on.

It was Merrick on the phone.  “Hi Boss,” he said after I’d answered, “got an update for you.”

My mind ran blank.  “What for?” I asked, getting in my car.

“On Phil Deacon.”

“Phil fucking Deacon,” I muttered.  “What’s the update?”

“Turns out the reason we can’t find him is because he’s dead.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, the day he threatened Layla, he also threatened Onyx’s woman, and Onyx wasn’t too pleased about that so he took care of him.”

I chuckled.  “So Onyx the fucker finally got his wish to do more than just talk to Phil.”

I could hear Merrick’s grin in his voice.  “Would seem so.  Where are you?”

“I’m sitting outside Madison’s house and am just about to pay a visit to the Storm clubhouse.”

“Fuck, that’s gonna be a shit fight over there.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, and we ended the call.

God knew what would happen with Storm now. 

***

The mood was grim at the clubhouse. The guys who had still looked up to Marcus were sitting around the bar, discussing revenge on whoever did it. 

Scott greeted me in the bar and quickly took me into the office where Griff was.  As the current Vice President, he’d had to assume control for the moment, and he appeared to be struggling with it.

“How’s the mood in the club?” I asked once we were behind closed doors.

“Not good,” Scott answered.  It was obvious from his body language and tone, he wasn’t happy with me.

Griff threw the pen he was holding down on the table and leaned back in his chair.  “We got word this morning that Marcus sent a shitload of drugs into Ricky’s territory yesterday morning.”

“I thought we’d put that plan on hold for the moment,” I said.

“We had,” Griff said pointedly.

“Fuck,” I muttered.  “That screws with everything.  We’re not ready for that yet.”

“You’re fucking telling us,” Scott threw in, clearly stressed.

I grabbed my phone.  “I’ll get Merrick to round up some of the boys to come over and set up watch.  You’re gonna need eyes on this club, and I’d be putting some on your homes, too.”