Havoc (Storm MC #8)

His face clouded over with anger. “What’s his name?”


I didn’t know Havoc well, but I knew it would be a bad idea to give him my teacher’s name. Nash would just hurt him a little if I let him loose on the guy. I hazarded a guess that Havoc would do a lot worse than that. If the club sent him to take care of problems, I could only imagine what that entailed.

Shaking my head, I said, “No, I’m not giving you that.”

I watched as his chest rose and fell in a pissed-off, jerky movement. It appeared as if he was fighting to control his anger. “I’ll get that name, sweetheart. It’d just be a lot easier if you gave it to me.”

I scowled. “No, Havoc, I don’t need you to fight my battles. Do not pursue this.” My voice was firm, but I doubted he was the kind of man to listen.

“That asshole needs to learn a lesson. Manipulating women into sex is disgusting. I hope you’ve reported him.”

There was no way he was letting this go; I knew that in my gut. “Havoc, I’m being dead serious when I say I don’t want you anywhere near this. I’ll get my brother to sort him out.”

He stood abruptly. “We need to go,” he commanded in that domineering voice of his that I hated to love.

Without waiting for me, he stalked out to his bike. I followed him, annoyed. When I caught up with him, I demanded, “What the hell’s gotten into you? I still had coffee to drink.”

Pulling me close, he rasped, “Listening to you try to boss me around turns me on. And, babe, what I want to do to you will give you more fuckin’ pleasure than coffee, but if you still want coffee once I’m finished, I’ll damn well go out and buy it for you.” He stopped for a moment and stared at me. “Now, are we good to go?”

Damn, I liked the way he thought. “Yes, Havoc, we’re good to go.”





8





Havoc





It had been four days since Dad came home from hospital and he was finally starting to get on my nerves. This was how our relationship had always been though, so I’d been waiting for it. He was feeling better so that was a plus. The doctors had given him a stent and I was hoping there wouldn’t be a repeat of this because staying in Brisbane for an extended time wasn’t high on my list of things to look forward to. On the other hand, staying meant seeing Carla again and that ranked highly on my list. Sex with her was the best sex I’d ever had, and I’d miss it when I left.

I was helping Dad sort out his medication when my phone rang. Checking the caller ID, I was surprised to see it was King. The President of Sydney Storm. Not a man I dealt with often, but when he called, I answered.

“King,” I said into the phone, leaving Dad to his medicine. This wasn’t a call he needed to hear. The kind of jobs King called on me for weren’t jobs anyone needed to know about.

“Havoc. Got a problem and we need you to take care of it.”

“Figured, brother. Where?”

“Sydney. It’s that idiot you dealt with two weeks ago.”

“What? He owes you more money?”

“No, turns out the asshole is cousins with one of our suppliers who is now threatening to cut us off. It’s Jackson Jones. The boys tell me you know him well so I thought you might be able to help us out.”

I did know Jackson. Psycho drug dealer. “Fuck, King. Jackson’s a crazy motherfucker.”

He sighed. “You’re telling me, brother. Can you be here in a couple of days or sooner?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave tonight, and ride straight through. See you tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said, and hung up.

I shoved my phone in my pocket, and then pulled it straight back out to send Carla a text.

Me: You home?

Carla: Yeah.

Me: See you in an hour.

Carla: Fuck yeah.

I smiled and put my phone back away, not sure I could last an hour. The bulge that seemed to live in my pants thanks to her might well cause me to head over sooner.



* * *



Carla



“Carla!” Nash yelled out from the front door.

Bloody hell, I had the headache of all headaches, and his yelling was only going to make it worse. Velvet and I had gone out drinking last night, and I’d ended up with a hangover from hell. Thankfully the headache had eased somewhat but it still lingered.

I didn’t bother answering him; he’d find me.

A minute later, he appeared in the kitchen, a scowl covering his face.

I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Havoc fuckin’ Caldwell. That’s what’s wrong,” he thundered.

Shit.

I figured he’d be pissed if he found out. Hence, I hadn’t told him, but the anger rolling off him was far worse than I’d imagined. I put down the dish I was washing up, and gave him my full attention. “He told you?”