Chapter Two

 

Audrey O’Neil

 

There’s no way in hell I’m leaving the comfort and safety of my apartment while the worst storm in history rages around us outside.

I’m angry at my brother for not coming to get me sooner before the weather got bad, and then sending some…some random guy to haul me out when he knows how shaky and freaked out I get during thunder and lightning.

I was never a fan of storms before the one that killed my parents. Now…well, now I can’t help but think that one of these days, god is planning to take me out the same way. I’m only twenty-two. I’m not ready to die!

And if I don’t come up with something to keep this guy busy, he’s gonna try to drag me outside when I’m obviously safer here.

Despite how handsome and sexy he is in his bad boy leather with his full kissable lips, I’m not leaving with him.

“So, where is Audrey?” he asks, when I take too long to answer.

“She’s already gone,” I reply.

“Gone? Gone where?” he snaps, his hand tightening on my side in a not entirely uncomfortable way.

“She left, so what does it matter?” I lie.

“When? When did she leave?” he asks with his brow furrowed.

“This morning, on a, ah, university bus headed to Asheville.”

“Bullshit!” he says, his face still only inches away from mine. “Her brother wouldn’t have told me to come get her unless he knew she was still here!”

“Sorry, but she’s long gone,” I tell him with a shrug.

“Give me her number. Or call her and find out exactly where she is right now, so that I can follow her.”

“No,” I refuse. Using a phone during a lightning storm is like begging god to strike you down. I don’t want to be in the same apartment when that shit goes down.

“I need to use your phone! Mine’s dead. At least let me call War,” he begs.

“No.”

This time, his jaw falls open almost comically before he recovers and says, “You’re awfully little to be such a big pain in my ass!”

“You’re not supposed to use the phone during a storm,” I point out.

“Why not? Especially when it’s an emergency. And this, well, this is a fucking emergency!” He still hasn’t let my hands go, and now we’re so close, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between us. “Only corded phones are dangerous in storms, not cell phones. And there’s a hurricane coming! If I don’t find this girl soon, everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing!”

“What have you worked for?” I ask.

“My patch.”

“A patch?”

“Getting the patches on the back of my cut that make me a member of the Savage Kings,” he explains.

“So, you’re not a member right now?”

“No.”

“But Warren…Audrey’s brother is?” I inquire.

“Yes! He’s the one who can make or break my membership!”

“So, you’re saying that he has a lot of power in this motorcycle club?” I ask, since this is all news to me. I would think the guy is lying except, what reason would he have to do that? Warren must have been keeping this shit from me.

“Yes, War’s the Sergeant-at-Arms to the president.”

“What does the Sergeant of Arms do?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions,” he grumbles. When I stare blankly at him in expectation, he finally sighs and says, “Fine, this is nothing you can’t search on the internet. The Sergeant-at-Arms is the one who is always packing heat. It’s his job to protect the president.”

“When you say ‘packing heat,’ you mean…carry a gun?”

“Yes,” he replies on an exasperated sigh.

None of this is sounding anything like my straight-laced, Army vet brother. He’s never hurt a soul! Even when he was in the military, he was just a mechanic, not the guy with a gun. Warren is kind and he takes care of people, especially me and Ren.

But if what this guy is saying is true, then maybe I don’t know the real Warren at all.

There must be a good reason why the state took my nephew Ren from him just a few weeks ago and refuses to give him back. And it can’t all be just because Marcie screwed up.

How long has Warren been lying to me? And what else do I not know about the man who raised me?

“Does he…does he like, kill people?” I ask in shock. “He doesn’t do that, does he?”

“What? I can’t tell you that,” he huffs. “And I’m not going to answer any more of your fucking questions. Either you can tell me where your phone is, or I’ll tear this place apart looking for it.”

“You’ll never find it unless I tell you where it is,” I assure him, since it’s turned off and stuffed under my mattress. I take lightning very seriously.

Blowing out another frustrated minty breath that flutters over my face, he looks me right in the eye and flexes his fingers that are still clutching my side. “Am I gonna have to tickle you again?”

Lightning shoots across the sky, making the room flicker with a bluish tint right before a booming crack of thunder strikes so loudly in the silence that I let out a shriek. I swear I hear the windows in the apartment rattle from the intensity.

The guy holding me hostage looks over his shoulder at the apartment behind him, then turns back to me with his brow furrowed. “Why is all your furniture shoved against the windows?” he asks.

“Ah, well, it’s just nice to have an extra layer of protection between the windows and the storm.”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, like he thinks I’m crazy. To most normal people, I probably am a little insane.

But they’ve never had their worst fear take the lives of both of their parents.

“Why haven’t you left town yet?” the guy asks. “Why didn’t you leave with Audrey?”

“Because I didn’t want to,” I answer.

“When the governor says you need to evacuate, you should probably listen,” he argues.

“No.”

“So, you’re just gonna stay here, alone, during the worst hurricane ever to hit the coast?” he asks. I have to swallow past the panic climbing up my throat before I can answer.

“Yes.”

“What about your parents? They must be worried sick,” he says.

“My parents are dead.”

“Shit, that sucks,” he says in a rush. And instead of apologizing for something that wasn’t even in his control to begin with like most people, he says, “My dad’s dead too. I never even got to meet him.”

“Seriously?” I ask in surprise.

“Yeah,” he replies, then huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t even find out who he was until a few years ago. By then, my mom told me he was already dead.”

“That sucks,” I tell him, repeating his own words.

“Yeah, it does. But I was able to find out who he was. He built the entire Savage Kings MC and was their president before he died of cancer.”

“So that’s why it means so much for you to get your patch?” I guess.

“Yeah,” he says on an exhale before he realizes I’ve tried to change the subject. “Now that we’ve bonded over our mutual parental loss, how about you do me a solid and give me your phone?”

Dammit. Now he had to go and put a guilt trip on me.

I don’t want him to get in trouble with my brother. At the same time, though, I’m pissed at Warren, and I’m not going to leave the comfort of my safe and dry apartment either.  

But this guy is persistent. Eventually, he may even find my phone. When he talks to my brother, he’ll know who I am and then I wouldn’t put it past him to throw me over his shoulder and haul me out of here if Warren says to do it. He seems very dedicated to the leather jacket gods and his long-lost father.

 If I’ve learned anything during my three years of college, it’s that there’s one thing that always works on men to get what I want. Besides, this guy is incredibly hot, and my inhibitions are low, thanks to the Xanax I’ve been popping like Tic Tacs ever since the weatherman first said the word “hurricane” a few days ago.  

All I need is to postpone him a little longer, and then it’ll be too bad outside to leave, even if I wanted to. That’s not something I’m looking forward to either, but we’re on the second floor of my building where the water can’t reach us. As long as the windows hold, we’ll be just fine for a few days.

So, I look him right in his gray eyes and say, “Fuck me, and the phone is all yours.”

The handsome stranger stares down at me, unblinking, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not.

“You can’t be serious,” he eventually says, still holding my wrists above my head while his big, hard body presses me into the door just a tiny bit harder.

“What’s your name?” I ask him, blowing a strand of my dark hair out of my eyes.

“Maddox.”

“Well, Maddox, the storm is getting worse, so unless you’re going to go out into it to find another phone, you better hurry.”

“Hurry, and…fuck you?” he reiterates.

“That’s right,” I tell him. “Haven’t you noticed? This is an all-girl university. You’re the first guy my age that I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Are you screwing with me?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Are you...are you a virgin?” he asks. I’m not sure if his voice sounded hopeful or wary.

“No.” Despite my innocent little girl appearance, I’ve been with three men.

“No?” he repeats.

“I traded my virginity to my Physics professor last year.”

“You’re kidding," Maddox says.

“Well, it was more than once. I was failing, so it took a few times before I finally got a C, then the C turned into a B, then the B to an A. Eventually, it was just extra credit and I made it to the top of my class.”

“You were sleeping with your professor to improve your grades.”

Nodding, I continue to tell him something that no one else knows about me. “Professor Burrows would lock the auditorium doors after class was over, and then fuck me right there on his desk.”

“That’s pretty hardcore and…kind of hot,” Maddox says, his eyes lowering to my lips.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” I ask. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Why do you want me? We just met, and I-I don't even know your name.”

“Does any of that really matter to you?” I question, knowing by the tenting in his jeans that the answer is no.