Page 37 of Stormy Knight

Jackson’s jaw tightened, though he kept his face neutral. He wanted to say something but wanted to wait on Monroe come back to the room. Jackson had ran into him in the hallway as he was heading in search of coffee. “Monroe will be back soon,” Jackson added, trying to steer the conversation in a more neutral direction.

“We can decide on our next move. You can tell us what you want and give us the green light to go hunting.”

“I hate being here, and yes, I know I sound like a damn whiny little bitch. But Jackson, I can’t stand this.” Reeves looked from Jackson to Monroe who now stood inside the door.

“Is this a good time for me to join in this conversation?” Monroe asked closing the door.

Jackson relaxed a little seeing Monroe walking into the room. If anyone could get Reeves to relax, it was Monroe.

Monroe strolled in, nodding to Jackson. “I thought you were going to wait at home for us?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have the patience for that. My girls are safe on the ranch and there was only so much I could do there, so… here I am.

Reeves threw the blanket and sheets off his body. “And I don’t have the patience to be here!” He was done laying in a clean safe room while Stormy was out there somewhere having who knew what done to her. “I’m checking myself out of here.”

“Reeves, settle down,” Jackson told his brother, trying to take control of the room.

“Is that what you did when Whiskey was taken. Did you calm down? I remember what you did.”

He didn’t look at Jackson, he’d stepped over the line. He couldn’t imagine how it made his brother feel sitting in the room. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Jackson.”

There was a heaviness in Reeves’ words that Jackson could hear, if not quite see. His brother was right, he didn’t like being there. He was also right about how he reacted to Whiskey being taken from their home.

Jackson watched Monroe with Reeves. Monroe could read their brother in ways he never could. Maybe it was because they were closer in age, maybe it was because Monroe knew how to get under everyone’s skin in both a good way and bad. Monroe was always the calming voice for both he and Reeves. He was good at picking up the pieces when things fell apart.Jackson knew Monroe had been affected by what had happened to Whiskey two years ago. Jackson couldn’t take that away.

“Listen, you’re right, Reeves, I hate being here. Can’t stand the sterile environment, the ceiling to the damn floors. I can’t stand any of it. especially the fucking machines beeping constantly,” Jackson shoved out of the chair and began pacing.

Reeves’ hands gripped the edge of the hospital bed, his knuckles white as the frustration surged through him.

His chest still felt tight from the smoke he’d inhaled, but even that didn’t cause him discomfort as knowing Stormy was alone with her ex.

Right now, she was somewhere and he didn’t know where. Being held hostage by her ex-boyfriend, a man who had a pension for violence and here he was feeling trapped in a hospital bed.

He was told to rest, relax, but that was the last thing he would be doing. “You two need to get me out of here and take me home. You do it or I will.”

“Reeves,” Monroe’s voice was stern, but calming. “You need to calm down.” The words didn’t do anything to keep Reeves in the bed. Even with Monroe’s hand hovering on his shoulder ready to ground Reeves. Reeves was over it. Nothing they could say would change his mind.

“I can’t stay here!” Reeves shouted, his voice rough, drained from desperation. “Stormy could be… she could be hurt or worse. Paul could be doing God knows what to her.”

They understood, still Reeves wouldn’t be any help if he didn’t let his body heal from the ordeal he’d been through. Jackson weighed his words before speaking. “We’ve got people looking for her. People who can move through the city faster and more unseen than we can.”

Monroe looked at Jackson, and there was something unspoken between them, a silent agreement. They’d both beenhere before. They both knew how this went. They also knew Reeves wasn’t the kind of guy who’d sit idly by, and neither of them couldforcehim to.

“We’ve get a plan together. We’ll track him down. But you’re not gonna do anyone any good if you don’t listen to your body. You won’t be able to help Stormy if you don’t take care of yourself first. You understand that, right?”

Reeves closed his eyes, biting back the frustration, the helplessness.Take care of himself. How the hell was he supposed to do that when Stormy was out there, in danger, and he couldn’t even protect her? “Fine. But I don’t like it.” He gave in and sat down on the bed. Once his brothers left, he would call the one person who wouldn’t defy him. That wouldn’t tell him no. Marco. Then he’d start hunting down Paul Delacour and when he found the fucker, he’d squeeze the life out of him.

24

Stormy’s feet clapped against the cracked concrete as she maneuvered through the abandoned warehouse district, her breath coming in quick, shortbursts. The scent of rust and mildew lingered in the air. She kept to the shadows, her eyes darting between the decaying structures, searching for the safest direction to follow.

The warehouses, though weathered and hollowed out, still held a strange sort of weight against the moonlit night sky.

Some were leaning at odd angles, their roofs caving in. Others stood tall and defiant, but their windows were nothing but shattered frames, some completely boarded up, others offering only glimpses into the emptiness within.

Her pulse was hammering, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught.

Ahead a gap between two of the more solid-looking buildings opened up. There the concrete had been crumbled away, leaving a patch of uneven, exposed earth. She took a quick breath, steeling herself, and dashed toward it.

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