Page 4 of Stormy Knight

Reeves looked around the bar not liking the situation. There was the potential of being recorded both with video and audio. Before he could comment, the server walked up, greeting them. Not wanting to be obvious, he ordered an Old Fashioned and decided Mario could talk and he’d listen. But he wouldn’t be offering anything that would incriminate himself or his family in any illegal business. Then a thought hit him, “Mario, do the Serranos own this museum?”

Mario pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “I wish. This place is a gold mine. And a legit business.” Mario looked around the bar. “The fun I could have owning this place.”

Something told Reeves Mario’s idea of fun was vastly different from his. “Let’s get down to it.”

“Always in a hurry to get things done,” Mario commented as their drinks were delivered. Picking up his martini, Mario nodded to Reeves before taking a sip of his drink.

An hour later, Reeves sat staring at Mario Serrano. His drink had gone warm due to him not drinking it. He didn’t trust the environment or the company he was keeping. “Mario, you’re always entertaining with your stories.” Standing up Reeves buttoned his jacket. “It was great catching up. Maybe next time suggest somewhere that knows how to make a true Old Fashioned.” Shaking Mario’s hand, Reeves let the older man pullhim into a hug. “Our territory isn’t open to you. If we find out your running product through it,” Reeves leaned back, staring Mario in the eyes. “We won’t be having drinks.”

Letting go of Mario, Reeves walked out of the bar and made his way back to the parking lot. Slipping into the backseat of the black sedan he’d hired, his mood was sour and his alarm bells were going off.I’m overreacting.

Settling into the seat, he told the driver to drive him back to the hotel. What a waste of time, he thought. Checking his watch, he noticed there was time to catch a flight back to Texas Creek.

When the car veered right instead of left towards the airport, Reeves knew what had his spidey senses tingling. The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. Not the same man that drove him to the museum. This was how Mario Serrano wanted to play things.Okay, Reeves thought,let’s dance asshole. Reaching down, he slid the knife from his boot. The privacy divider was partially open, giving him enough room to do damage to the driver. That would leave him in the backseat of an out-of-control car.Best to let the game play-out.

Looking at the driver with boredom, Reeves settled back and just continued staring at the man. Eventually, they’d have to stop. His attention went to the exterior of the car. Fields of wheat colored hay laid out for miles. They weren’t heading further into the city. They were heading further from it. Movement caught his eye, ducking down the bullet fired from the driver’s gun hit the leather seat. The whirl of the divider lowering gave Reeves the opportunity he’d hoped for.

Lunging up, he shoved the knife into the driver’s throat. As the car swerved, Reeves drove the bloody blade into the man’s face, the steel sinking with a sickening thud. The driver, eyes wide with panic, fought to stay in control, his hands desperately jerking the wheel as the tires screeched against the pavement. But Reeves wasn’t about to let him regain the upper hand. Hekicked the back of the seat with brutal force, driving the driver’s head forward into the wheel, and with one final, jarring impact, the man slumped over, unconscious.

With no time to waste, Reeves scrambled through the divider window, his hands steady despite the chaos. He grabbed the steering wheel just in time to prevent the car from veering off the highway.Gotta love lane and steering assistance, he thought grimly, feeling the subtle guidance of the system as it held the car steady despite the situation.

His eyes flicked to the unconscious driver beside him, barely giving the man a second glance. Reaching around, he unlocked the door and shoved the limp body out into the road. The car veered slightly as the man’s weight pulled it, but Reeves quickly corrected it with a swift jerk of the wheel. He climbed into the driver’s seat, his grip tightening on the wheel, and slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched as the car came to a halt, and then he yanked the wheel hard, spinning the car around in a sharp U-turn.

Reeves gunned the engine, sending the car roaring back toward the museum, his mind locked on one thought.Mario Serrano better pray he didn’t find him.

2

Stormy watched out the window of her house. There was a storm coming. Dark, ominous clouds stood off in the distance. As she stood there, she looked for any signs of someone lingering outside.

What’s the worst thing about a house that’s secluded? You can’t see what’s lurking in the trees. It was like being in a scary movie, waiting for an attacker to jump out of the shadows.

She hadn’t always felt like that. No, once upon a time, she loved it. As soon as she had pulled up to the property, she’d fallen in love with the property. She loved the charm and simplicity of the cottage. Loved listening to the waves crash against the shoreline below.

The cozy little home was the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of living in the city. It was like a peaceful retreat where she could relax, unwind, and enjoy the beauty of the coastal views. The trees that hugged the outer edges of the property gave her plenty of privacy. Too much privacy, it turned out.

She loved sitting at her kitchen table enjoying her coffee before making the arduous drive to work every day. From thecrisp white ship lapped walls to the rustic hardwood floors, she loved the place. Even if she couldn’t see the water from her bedroom, she could hear it when the days were nice, and she could open the windows.

Then things changed. It went from a peaceful retreat to a prison. For the last six months, she found herself the target of what seemed to be an over-obsessed ex. At first, she thought it was cute. He was trying to win her back by leaving notes and flowers on her doorstep or her car. Then things went dark. She started getting threatening messages when she went out with other men. Pictures of her with them would be left not only on her car windshield, but in her home and work office. The cops took a report and spoke to the guy. They told her he seemed genuinely concerned about her. And that they found nothing in his home that suggested he was her stalker.

Then the attack happened. Late one night she was woken by a sound. When she opened her eyes, she saw the silhouette of a person at the foot of her bed. The attacker grabbed her foot, dragging her down the bed as she struggled. Wrapping her arms around herself, Stormy thought back on that night.

Stormy’s heart pounded as she tried to steady her breathing, her body still humming with adrenaline. The room was a chaotic mess - furniture knocked over, the lamp askew on the floor, and the air thick with the remnants of the struggle. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the sharp scent of cologne, Paul’s scent, which now felt suffocatingly close.

She hadn’t been sure she could do it…hadn’t been sure that, in the heat of the moment, she would be able to fight back. But she had. She’d survived. And though her body trembled from the exertion and the injury to her face, she would not let herself break just yet. Not when there was still the sound of sirens in the distance, the hope that help was coming.

Her phone lay next to her. The screen cracked, but still functional. She saw the flashing red 911 notification and felt a brief rush of relief.

“Please, hurry,” she whispered, her voice raw from the screaming and fear. She kept her finger on the taser’s trigger, the tiny electric charge in the air buzzing faintly, a reminder of just how close she had come to being overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure how long Paul would stay down—he was a large man, dangerous even when stunned, but she couldn’t afford to take chances. Not now. Not when she was this close to being saved.

Her head swam with dizziness, a mix of the shock, the bleeding, and the lingering fear of what could have happened. She could still see his face in her mind—twisted with rage, hands around her ankle, the feeling of his weight crashing down on her as he fought for control. He’d almost had it.

But she hadn’t let him.

Her mind briefly drifted to Whiskey - had she been right? Had she given her this taser for a reason? Her advice had always been sharp, practical, but this was the first time she’d ever had to use something like that. She shuddered, thinking of how close she’d come to needing it for far worse.

Stormy’s fingers clutched at the taser, not sure if the feeling of power or fear was stronger. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep holding onto it—her muscles ached, her vision blurry…but she was done. Done being vulnerable. Done being afraid.

When the police finally burst through the door, she barely registered their presence at first, the flashing lights outside only adding to the overwhelming sensation of everything coming to a head. But then there was the sound of commands, of officers rushing toward Paul, and Stormy exhaled, letting herself collapse back against the bed, her heart still racing but her mind beginning to clear.

---