Page 139 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“I’m saying you’ve got to let her choose. You won’t win anything by force, Storm. All you’ll do is lose more than I think you’re really willing to give up.”
I hold my breath, feeling the burn.
“You gave up eight years of your life—of their lives—to this mission. Make it worth something, Storm. That’s all I ask,” he replies.
I look at him, and something he sees in my gaze makes him grin.
“I hear you, Riale,” I rasp. He pats my shoulder before taking a step back and grimacing.
“For real, though, did you have to wail on my face like that?” Riale says, balling up his shirt and using it as a compress for the cut above his eye.
I shrug.
“You got in a nice kidney shot,” I throw back, and Riale laughs. We stand there for a second before Riale lifts his hand for a shake.
I stare at his outstretched palm before clasping it and pulling him in for a back slap.
“You know you my dawg, right?” Riale says, and I huff, pulling away and hitting his shoulder hard.
“I know. Likewise,” I add with an eyeroll.
“All right, enough of this pussy shit. See you tonight,” Riale says.
“For what?” I ask, thinking of putting Tempest and Riale to bed, but then realizing I’d likely scare the shit out of them if I showed up with a busted face.
“You really weren’t listening, were you?” Riale says, shaking his head. “Axel made contact with the Ukrainian. We have a way to end this—and give you that happy ending you’re dying for.”
I spin his words around, checking myself to make sure I’m not misinterpreting them.
I’m not. We’ve got a path forward…which meansIhave a path forward.
With Shae. With the kids.
Maybe even as a family.
“We got work to do, nigga. You ready?” Riale says. I smile wide, ignoring the fresh wound I re-open to do so.
THIRTY-ONE
SHAE
Istop biting my lip when I taste blood. Going through the motions of our bedtime ritual, I hold on to hope that Storm will show.
But now that the kids are bathed and wound down, that hope quickly fizzles out, anger and just enough ofI-knew-this-would-happento keep my blood humming.
“Mommy?” Raiden’s soft voice stops me as I turn the lamp between the twins’ beds off. Dimming the light, I sit on Raiden’s mattress, reaching for his hand when I see tears lining his lower lids.
“What is it, Rai?” I ask, mindful of Tempest’s huff as she settles beneath her blankets. My daughter rolls over and faces the opposite wall. Raiden sniffs, then twitches his nose, which is his signal for when he really wants to cry but doesn’t want anyone to see.
“Why didn’t he come tonight?” His words are just above a whisper, and I slide my eyes closed, once again wanting to take a club to Storm Sandoval’s head.
Isn’t this what I was afraid of? That he’d get the kids’ hopes up that he’d be there, only to let them down?
“I’m sure he got caught up, sweetie,” I say, pasting on a smile. Is this how it’s going to be?
“I was thinkin’ that maybe I made him mad last night. When I asked him to read with me again?” Raiden’s voice trembles on the last few words, and I cup his cheek, leaning to kiss his forehead.
“Baby boy, I promise you didnothingwrong. Put that thought right out of your head. Here, let me pluck it out for you,” I say, trying to cover my sadness with humor. Pinching my index and thumb together, I press them to his temple, turning my wrist left and right while making drilling sounds.
