Havoc (Storm MC #8)
Nina Levine
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the perfect life we think exists.
It doesn’t.
Sometimes life works out differently to the plan in our head, and that’s not always a bad thing.
Sometimes the one journey we don’t want to take is the one journey our soul needs to take.
“The past has no power over the present moment.”
~ Eckhart Tolle
If you’re going through the daily grind and shit’s getting too fucking real and you reach the point where you doubt yourself, just remember - You’ve got this, girl.
1
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The events of Havoc take place after the events of Revive.
Havoc
She had to be fucking kidding me. Rubbing her hand against my crotch, she begged, “Come on, baby, take me back to your place and show me how well you can use this.”
No way was I fucking this crazy bitch. I knew women like her. They were always on the lookout for a man to pay their bills. I would never be that man again.
Her hot breath on my ear turned me way the fuck off. Pushing her hand away from my body, I muttered, “I can use it really fuckin’ well, just not with you.”
She took a step away from me, eyes wide, stunned at my refusal. Her face clouded over in anger. “Well, aren’t you a prick,” she spat. “Leading me on like that and then telling me no. I’ve wasted my time on you, time I could have spent finding a man who knows a good thing when he sees it.”
Fuck, bitches like her pissed me off. Usually, I wouldn’t waste my breath, but I’d had a shit of a day, and she’d just pushed me that bit too far. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t fuckin’ lead you on. I didn’t buy you a drink, didn’t do much talking and I sure as hell never gave you the impression I wanted to fuck you. I’ve met too many women like you, so I know what you’re after, and there’s no way you’re ever getting it from me. Been burnt once in my life, not going back for seconds. So move the fuck on and leave me the hell alone.”
She stiffened as her mouth fell open. She recovered quickly though, and narrowed her eyes at me. “Fucking asshole,” she snapped, before giving me one last glare and stalking off. I pitied the poor bastard she latched onto next.
Turning back to the bar, I motioned to the bartender to bring me another scotch, and contemplated why the hell I was back in Brisbane. It had been six months since I’d been home, and a year before that. It was never long enough between visits as far as I was concerned, but my sister had her own way of bringing me back every now and then. When she’d called to tell me our father wasn’t well, I hadn’t hesitated to return home. However, as much as I wanted to check on him, I didn’t intend to stick around for long; too many bad memories lived in Brisbane.
The bartender brought my scotch over and as I threw it back, a woman settled onto the stool next to me at the bar. I didn’t look at her, but I knew it was a woman by her smell. Balenciaga. The same fucking perfume my ex-fiancée had worn. I loved it, and yet I hated it, simply because it reminded me of her. Raising my chin at the bartender, I indicated my desire for more scotch. I’d knock myself out with alcohol before I’d dredge memories of that bitch up.
“So you’re with Storm, are you?”
I turned and scowled at her. The cut I wore had a tendency to attract women but tonight I just wanted a quiet drink. “I’m not interested. I just want to have a drink in peace. You think that’s possible?”
She didn’t flinch, just raised a brow at me, and returned my scowl. “Hate to break it to you, Romeo, but I’m not interested either. I was just asking a question.”
I’d fully intended on turning away from her and minding my own business, but her smoky voice stopped me. It was the kind of voice that commanded a man’s attention, and it got mine. My gaze lingered on her face for a good while. It was her green eyes that did it; there was something there that called to me. Sadness perhaps. Definitely pain of some sort. Whatever the hell it was, I wanted to know more about her and that was without even taking a look at the rest of her.
“Yeah, I’m with Storm,” I answered, my gaze steady on hers.
She nodded, and then broke eye contact to ask the bartender for a drink. I let my gaze drop to her chest and then lower. She wasn’t my usual type; her breasts were smaller than I liked them and she wasn’t as curvy as I preferred. And she was a brunette; I always went for blondes. But fuck, she had something that made my dick get hard and I needed to know what it was.
Turning back to me after she’d ordered her drink, she asked, “You know where the ladies' room is?”