Page 12 of Stormy Knight

Stepping into the kitchen, she realized Jackson was hot on her heels. “Jackson, I think I can have lunch with Stormy without issues.”

“I don’t think that. But I can drive you and work at the restaurant while the two of you have lunch.”

Whiskey whirled around on her husband. Most of the time she loved feeling protected, but at some point, Jackson would have to give her some space. Giving him an irritated look, Whiskey realized he wasn’t budging. “Fine, but you work in the office and leave us alone.”

“That’s fine. If you ladies want to go shopping or anything other than visiting at the restaurant, you will take a bodyguard with you.” Before Whiskey could argue, he cut her off. “This is not negotiable.”

Heading into the bathroom, Stormy stared at herself in the mirror. There was not enough makeup to cover up the bruises on her face.“Honey, I hope whoever the asshole who did that to your pretty face gets his.”Yes, she hoped he got his, too.

Pulling up her long dark hair, she tied it up out of her way. Turning on the tap, she washed her face before putting on her makeup. Makeup, she knew wouldn’t hide anything. Knowing that she almost said screw it, but she wasn’t a woman that went out in public without her war paint on.

Taking her time, she made sure she looked her best before leaving the house. The last thing she wanted was to run into Reeves and have him see the fading bruises which could still be seen. Not that he’d care what had happened to her. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

Staring at herself in the full-length mirror, Stormy saw how thin she looked. Her clothes hung off her. When had she lost her curvaceous figure? Stripping off the dress pants, she opted for leggings to go with her oversized sweater and tall boots. It didn’t improve her look. It did, however, not make it less obvious how sickly she looked.

Scooping up her keys, Stormy headed for the door where she could meet Whiskey at La Familia. It was time to come clean with everything that had been happening since they’d last seen each other. Maybe she should just pack her bags and go home with Whiskey. No, she would not unload her baggage on her best friend’s new family.

Reaching for the door, Stormy stopped, remembering she had a gift for the baby. Turning around, she hustled back to the bedroom. Searching the room, Stormy was starting to second guess she’d brought the bag inside. Opening the closet, she screamed.

Stumbling back, Stormy stared into the closet. There, hanging in front of her, was a life-size cutout that looked just like her. As she stood frozen with fear, a sound of dripping caught her attention. The image had its throat cut. The sound was coming from the cardboard as red paint cascaded down it, dripping onto the floor.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she called Whiskey. “Whiskey,” her voice shook as she said her best friend’s name.

Hearing fear in Stormy’s voice, Whiskey rushed for the front office where Jackson and his brothers were closed in talking business. “What’s wrong?”

Stormy looked around terrified Paul was inside the house with her. “Paul’s been here, he…it’s me in the closet with my throat cut.”

“What?” Rushing back down the hallway, Whiskey shoved open the office door and immediately put the phone on speaker. “Stormy tell me what’s happening.”

“Paul’s been here. He put a life-size image of me in the closet with its throat cut.”

“Where are you?” Reeves asked as he moved towards the doorway. When Stormy didn’t answer, he pointed at Jackson. “Text me the address. I’m taking Marco and Dale with me.

“Stormy. Reeves is heading your way. Give me the address where you’re at.” When Whiskey got no response, she shouted, “Stormy!”

Stormy heard Whiskey shouting through the phone and snapped out her address. “Sorry, I’m at 456 Longview Drive.”

“Reeves is on his way. If you don’t feel safe inside, go get inside your car.” Whiskey watched as Jackson texted Reeves the address. “Tell Reeves to pack Stormy’s stuff. She’ll be staying here until her ex is apprehended.” Whiskey told her husband. Knowing Reeves, Paul wouldn’t be arrested. He’d deal with Paul his own way.

Rushing out of the bedroom, Stormy checked the doors, making sure they were locked. She didn’t know how Paul had gained access to the house. “I think I’m safe inside for now.”

“I’ll stay on the phone with you until he arrives.”

“You don’t have to. Just in case I have to call the cops.”

“Ok. But call me once you’re with Reeves. Stormy, did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” Hanging up, she went to the living room and sat down by the front door, waiting for Reeves.

7

Reeves pulled up to the house Stormy had rented. At least it was in a pleasant area and not the sketchy area across town. What he wanted to know was why she wasn’t staying at the ranch. He knew the answer. Him. He was the reason. He’d blew her off at every turn after Whiskey had been kidnapped. He’d been a wreck after Whiskey was taken, too deep in his own trauma to see how much damage he was doing to the people closest to him. He’d pulled away from everyone, especially Stormy.

Some nights he woke from nightmares drenched in sweat. It was always the same one. A moment in time that haunted him. A sudden chill ran through him as he thought of the nightmares.

He could still see Monroe on the ground rocking back and forth as he whispered to a naked, beaten Whiskey to hang on. It was in that moment something in Monroe broke. Reeves knew it but never spoke about it. None of them did. Now, because he had been an asshole, Stormy was dealing with some psycho ex.

Staring at the house for a moment, he took in the neat lawn, the white shutters, the way it stood out. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place he’d expect her to pick. The place she’d rented seemed tobe warm and inviting. He’d been in some that were nice but were in terrible neighborhoods. This one wasn’t one of those. It was nice to see the derelict neighborhoods being given an uplift from people buying up the properties and fixing them up. It would go a long way if the city would put money and effort into the area. It could give the areas the facelift they needed. Problem with that was the people in charge, they didn’t want to spend money that could line their pockets. And people called the Salvadors unscrupulous.Assholes.

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