Page 9 of Storm's Deliverance

CHAPTER THREE

STORM

I sit in my truck,waiting for Zeke, my stomach swirling with unease. “Get a grip.” I mutter to myself. This isn’t me. I am the type of person that doesn’t care what people think. I am not afraid of anything. I will stand toe to toe with my dad, and with my uncles. I was brought up to always speak my mind, to never fear a man, and never change who I am for anyone. However, right now, my palms are clammy and I feel nauseous. I am scared for Zeke to meet my parents. For them to accept him and love him.

My door opens, and I jump, a high-pitched yelp springing from my throat as I clutch my chest. “What’s got you so jumpy?” Zeke asks, a smile playing on his lips.

I let out a breathy laugh. “I was just stuck in my head.” I shrug.

Zeke leans in, his hand clasping the back of my neck firmly, before he presses his mouth to mine. I relax instantly, melting into him. He breaks the kiss, resting his temple on mine.

“Better?” he breathes.

“Better,” I repeat. “You sure you are ready for this?” I ask, “You can break it off with me now, and I would completelyunderstand. My family are intense. This will be intense,” I ramble.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry. I can hold my own. Your family just want to make sure I can take care of you. Now, let’s get going because I’m starving.” He presses his lips to my temple before stepping back and shutting my door. I look in my rearview mirror and watch him climb into his two-seater sports car. I inwardly cringe, knowing the shit my dad and his friends will give him for driving that car. He flashes his lights, and I pull off, praying for a twenty-car pile-up with no injuries, but just enough to close the freeway.

As the club comes into view, I realise there is no turning back now. I drive past the line of bikes, seeing the club’s patch above the entrance. Well, now he knows what club my family is a part of. I put my truck in park as Zeke pulls in beside me. I look across at him, but his eyes are fixed on the patch above the door. I sigh, bracing myself for the break-up. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.

I climb down from my truck and wait for Zeke. He eventually gets out. He doesn’t look scared, but he does look pissed. “You failed to mention that your family are the biggest fucking crime gang in this town. Hell, in three towns, at least,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

I frown. “They are not criminals.”Well, not the bad kind, anyway.“They have a reputation, yes, but they are good and decent people. This is a club, a family. You can’t accept them, then you can’t accept me,” I snap back, my temper and defensiveness rising within me.

He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose before he looks down at me, his eyes softening slightly. “I’m sorry. It was a shock, is all, but you must know being a member of this family hinders your career,” he points out.

“I love my job, and I love my family. I’ve never had an issue,” I counter.

“Yeah, well, if I were to make it to Chief of Surgery one day, being associated with your family will hinder those chances.” He pauses. “But that’s okay, because that won’t be for a few years, and once you’re living with me, no one will know.” He sighs with relief at his apparent fixing of the issue. He takes his hand in mine and leads us inside before I can process what he said, or what he means by it.

The sound of talking and laughter rings out, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips. Home. I’ve always loved the loudness, the chaos of it. All of it is full of love and protectiveness that you just can’t get anywhere else.

Mom walks towards us, a warm smile on her face as she holds out her arms, pulling me into a tight hug. “My baby,” she coos, kissing me firmly on the cheek. “I can’t believe you kept this secret from me and your dad,” she whisper-hisses in my ear, letting me know just how pissed off she is. Her eyes flicker to Zeke, who is looking at her with a slightly stunned expression. I roll my eyes, used to this reaction. My mom is beautiful, stunning. Even now in her late fifties. She looks late thirties, though. Her black ripped jeans hug her curves, and the plain black tank she wears with it is tucked into her jeans, showing off her ample breasts. Her dark, nearly black hair falls in loose waves, and tattoos cover most of her arms. My mom is cool; she was badass, and I adored her. Even when we fight like cats and dogs.

She looks Zeke up and down, assessing him. He’s lean, muscled, clean and good-looking. Not a tattoo in sight. He has ‘the boy next door’ vibe about him.

He clears his throat. “Er, sorry. It nice to meet you, ma’am,” Zeke says, holding out his hand, his voice shaking slightly. Is he nervous of my mom?

She bats his hand away and pulls him into a hug. “Don’t call me ma’am. It makes me sound like an old lady. It’s Star,” she says, patting his back before pulling away. “Your dad is in his office. He will be out in a minute,” she says to me. “Zeke, what can I get you to drink?” she asks calmly.

“Er, just a water, please. I’m driving,” he answers.

I don’t miss how my mom’s lip curls slightly at his response. “Sure.” She turns and clicks her fingers, and the prospect—or should I say new prospects—come scurrying over.

“Rusty, get Zeke here a nice cold glass of water,” she orders the ginger-haired prospect. “Pirate, get my daughter a beer,” she orders the prospect with an eye patch.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to call them names like that,” Zeke stated.

My mom arched one of her perfect brows at him, her hands going to her hips. “This isn’t a workplace. This is a family, and we call each other whatever the hell we want. If they didn’t like their road names, then they can bring it up with their president,” Mom snaps.

Zeke gives her a sheepish nod. “I apologise,” he murmurs.

“Now, come on through. We are cooking up a storm outside.” I catch Ripley and Raine in the corner, and I give them an enthusiastic wave. Both of them point to Zeke and mime that he’s hot. I laugh, giving them a wide example with my hands, mouthing the words huge at them.

They both double over laughing. Zeke looks at me, and I give him an innocent look. I mean, Zeke is just above average. No complaints from me. As we walk through the side doors to the outside area where the BBQ and fire pit are, Maisy comes over, grinning at me excitedly. I pull her into a tight hug.

“You ready for this?” she whispers.

“No,” I answer honestly.