Page 16 of Stormy Knight

“Shit, he said…”

“What did he say?”

“He said he intended to be spending lots of time together here at the ranch.” Shit, he never said she would stay with him, per se. Mad at herself, Stormy stood and started shoving her clothes back in the suitcases when the door popped open a second time. This time, it was Parker Lane, Monroe’s girlfriend, darting into the room.

Parker bounded across the room, her soft sable brown hair swinging from side to side. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” she asked, grabbing Stormy in a big Texas hug.

Being with the two women, she blurted out the truth. “Scared.”

Parker stepped back, keeping her hands on Stormy’s shoulder. “Just make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings.” She looked pointedly at Stormy, making sure was listening to her. “I’ve been taking self-defense classes, and it’s the first thing they teach.”

“That’s just it, Parker. I thought I was safe in Texas Creek.”

“You’re safer with the Salvadors than without them,” Parker reminded her as she looked back at Whiskey for backup. “Andyou might have been in Texas Creek, but you weren’t at Devil’s Perch, babe.”

Whiskey stood and moved to one of the leather chairs in the bedroom where she could sit more comfortably while her daughter, listening as the girls talked about what had happened at the house. She was thankful Reeves had gone to pick Stormy up. Although he hadn’t done the picking up, he had done the rescue, she supposed. What ifthe ex had been there waiting to hurt Stormy? The thought had her adjusting her position on the chair.

For a moment, her mind went back to the events of two years ago and tears rose. Instead of giving in to them, Whiskey shored up her emotions. She refused to add to Stormy’s already emotional state.

When Effie started whimpering, Whiskey got up. “I’m going to make the baby a bottle. Don’t the two of you get into trouble while I’m gone.”

“Should I move to the guest suite?” Stormy asked before Whiskey left the room.

“Hell no. Make him deal with his feelings,” Whiskey said as she whisked out of the room. “And you need to deal with yours.”

When Stormy looked to Parker for her input, all the young woman did was smile wickedly. “You’re no help, Parker.”

“I came for moral support. I never said I was here to help.” Parker laughed.

Stormy rolled her eyes and went back to unpacking while worried about her ex and Reeves. One was determined to hurt her physically and the other could rip her apart from the inside out, starting with her heart.

9

They used to see each other weekly. Then it became four times a year when they took advantage of a few books signings to use them as mini vacations. Over the past few years, they barely saw one another.

Whiskey wanted to blame Stormy living in Colorado, but she’d moved to the West Coast the year before for work. Distance made it a challenge for the two to get together. That and she’d had a baby. Ensconced at the kitchen table, Whiskey sat with her face resting against her hand, listening to Stormy explain to Reeves and his brothers what happened to her face. The small scar that ran across her temple was new, so were the bruises that were faint. Probably three weeks old.

The woman who, at one time, went through men like Whiskey changed panties seemed to be different. Things with her best friend seemed to be worse than what she had realized. Stormy had clearly lost weight. Weight, she didn’t need to lose. Even with the fitted leggings, tall boots, and baggy sweater, Whiskey saw how thin she was. Stormy’s face wasn’t gaunt, but it was close to it. Dark circles marred the underneath of her pretty eyes. The dark color that once held spark now seemed dull.

Whiskey listened as Stormy explain about her ex-Paul breaking into her home and attacking her. She sat up, her eyes glanced around the table, and locked eyes with Reeves. He showed no signs of how what Stormy had said affected him. She watched him move from his seat at the table to stand near the kitchen’s island.

Dropping her eyes back to Stormy, Whiskey let out an exasperated breath. She was done tiptoeing around the subject. “Was your ex arrested?”

“Yes.”

“But?” Whiskey questioned, knowing Stormy was holding out more information.

“I’ve been having notes, letters, and horrible things left for me at my house and on my car.”

“When did you get those bruises? I know they aren’t from when you got the scar.”

“Paul was waiting for me when I got home a few weeks ago. I wasn’t alone. One of my friends had been driving behind me and pulled into the driveway at the moment Paul grabbed me and started slapping me.”

Tired of waiting on stormy to spill everything, Whiskey called her out on the bullshit. “Those bruises aren’t from being slapped.”

Stormy let out a sigh. She had hoped Whiskey wouldn’t ask again after she’d given her the short version earlier. Still, she knew this would happen and promised herself she would avoid it at all costs. Now she had to come clean with everything. “Fine. He punched me in the head about a dozen times before my friend pulled up. I was unconscious at that point and can only tell you what was told to me.” That was right after Paul had gotten out of jail from the break in.

“Which is?” Whiskey said, tapping her fingers on the table.

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