The Mighty Storm (The Storm, #1)

Spying a room which looks very much like a dressing room, I take Jake by the hand and start to lead him toward it.

Turning to Tom, I say, “Tell them he’ll back out on stage in five minutes.”

“Ten,” Jake adds from behind me.

I stop, turning, I meet his grinning eyes.

“Technically the song only lasts just short of four minutes,” I state, smiling.

“Oh, this is the unreleased extended version, Mrs. Wethers.”

“Mrs. Wethers to be,” I correct.

“Technicality,” he grins. “And one that I’ll be rectifying very soon.”

Then he sweeps me up off my feet, and squealing with laughter I let him carry me into the dressing room, closing and locking the door behind us, leaving Tom, and the rest of the world outside to wait.





Meet Jake …





Chapter One – The Hotel





I can’t fucking sit still.

Ever since Stuart told me the name of the interviewer coming this morning, I’ve been pacing around like a dickhead. My head is flipping about all over the place.

What if it’s her?

What do I say?

She might be pissed at me. I was the one who stopped contact when I moved to the States. And when I hit the big time with the band she never attempted to get in touch with me.

That’d be just like Tru to hold a twelve year grudge. She was always a feisty one.

Tru Bennett.

It might not be her.

How many Trudy Bennett’s could there be in the UK who are music journalists?

She was music first, a writer second. It has to be her.

What time is it?

I’m driving myself nuts here. I just wish she’d hurry the fuck up and get here so can put myself out of my misery.

I know I’m acting like a crazy mother fucker right now, but it’s Tru.

There was only ever her for me, and that never changed in the whole time I’ve been apart from her.

She was the only one who knew me back then, and only she could tie me up like this.

She was my best friend, the only girl I ever loved, and I’ve missed the shit out of her.

It’s times like this when I wish I wasn’t clean. I could really do with a hit right now.

Fuck. I need a smoke.

I get them out of my pocket and light one up.

“Do you want a drink?” Stuart asks walking into the living room. “Maybe a whiskey?”

“No. Yes. No.” I pull on my smoke and blow it out.

“Any conclusion on that drink yet?” Stuart says cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah you want one. Or yeah you don’t.”

“Don’t.”

“It might calm you down.” He crosses the room, heading toward the mini-bar.

“Yeah but if I have one then I might not stop.”

He gets one of those mini Diet Coke cans out and cracks it open.

Coke, that’s what I need right now, and not of the diet varity.

“This girl sure has got you freaked out.” Stuart has another drink, and draining the can, he tosses it in the trash.

I turn to him, taking a long drag of my smoke. “Because she’s not just any girl.”

“No?” Stuart raises his eyebrow.

“No.” I take another long drag, then stub it out in the ashtray. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved.”

“I didn’t think you did love?”

“Only the once.”

Grinning, Stuart comes over and picks the ashtray up.

I know he’s going to clean it out. He hates my smoking. I think he’s worried it will prematurely age him or something.

Gay guys. I’ll never understand them. Stuart’s cool though, he’s been with me from the start and he’s great at his job. He’s also saved my ass more times than I care to remember.

Women are my thing. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I just like to fuck. Hard. And often. Then move onto the next.

There has only ever been one girl I loved, one girl I wanted to be mine, and she might be walking through that door any minute now.

What if she looks completely different?

She used to be really beautiful. She had this amazing ass and a smoking hot body, even as a teenager. And she had the best pair of tits I had ever seen, not that I’d seen many back then, well only hers to be honest, and I only got to see them by accident when she lost her bikini one time when we were swimming. Even at thirteen she had a sizeable pair. Tru was an early developer, all for my luck.

Fuck. What if she’s married now, and has kids or something.

Whatever. Either way it’s Tru, and I need to see her.

“What if it’s not her coming?” Stuart asks walking back through, with my, yep – clean ashtray.

“Then your next job is to find her for me.”

At his expression, I give him an, ‘And no I’m not fucking kidding’ look.

“Do you have OCD or something? You know there’s treatment for that kind of thing, right?” I grin at him.

“OCD is better than STD, Jake.” He raises his eyebrow.

I’ve never had an STD in my life, cheeky bastard. Sheeted and ready to go. I never leave the house without a condom. Well, I never know when I might need one. Trust me, I’ve had sex at the most inappropriate of times, with the wrong kinds of women.

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