Page 33 of Empower

When she released me, she asked, “Please tell me you made those peanut butter brownies again, I’m craving them.”

Before I could reply, I felt him before I heard that raspy voice that caused chills to creep up my neck, “Lena, did you make extra this time?”

Storm.

I knew he was talking about the Oreo Dirt Cake.

Ever since I had made it that day, anytime we had a club function, I made two of them, and he usually ended up eating half of one pan.

I swear it’s the only indulgence I ever see him eat that’s not meat and potatoes.

For him to be around my dad’s age, looking at his body, you would assume that he was at least ten years younger.

“Actually, believe it or not, you have your own,” I said as I moved to open the fridge and then tilted my head at the smaller orange container that had a card taped to the lid, with his name on it.

I watched as his eyes moved to it, and then his feet moved in that direction, and when I whispered, “Happy Birthday by the way, Storm.”

At my words, he froze. He stood there, his shoulders rose, in a split second, he turned around, and locked eyes with me as he made his way over to where I stood. Looking up into those eyes that were more like the clearest waters in Hawaii as the sun set over them, I felt my entire world cease, it felt as if I were living for him and him alone.

When he brought his hand to cup the side of my cheek my eyes closed of their own accord. Only then did I feel the sweetest softest kiss on my forehead.

Then in a whispered breath, I heard, “Thanks, Precious.”

If I knew him better, I’d say he put more emotion into those words but there’s no telling about that man.

“You’re welcome, now go enjoy it before it gets taken.” That seemed to do the trick because he opened the fridge and grabbed his cake.

I turned my head from watching Storm to my dad who had just walked into the kitchen, “Hey, doll face, what is that I smell?”

He took in Storm and what he had in his hands, “Is that an Oreo Cake? Storm is trying to fucking hog a-freaking-gain?” My dad started to stomp after Storm who stood there and smirked as he grabbed a fork and dug in.

“Actually, Dad, I made that one for Storm, it’s his birthday tomorrow.” I tried not to blush like a June bride, but I knew I’d failed; my face was super-hot too. And my dad saw it, just great. Then that smirk that formed on his face said it all.

He didn’t try to yell at me, and he didn’t try to yell at Storm, he just hugged me and said low enough for no one else to hear, “It’s okay, Storm needs a little happiness in his life.”

Chapter 6

Storm

I was walking out of my office when I entered the main room of the clubhouse and realized two things.

One, everyone was silent.

And two, Lena’s face was pale.

My eyes tracked to where she was looking, and when I saw her eyes were locked on a man who was standing just inside the door, I let my eyes take him in.

It had been a dimly lit room when I had beaten his face into a bloody pulp.

But I would recognize that piece of shit anywhere.

Clip was growling.

Ripper was popping his knuckles.

Cason was on the phone, “Red, you want to get a piece of Lena’s stepfather, suggest you get here now.” That was when I felt Cason’s eyes on me, taking in my expression, “You don’t, Storm is going to beat you to it.”

He was fucking right.