Storming His Heart (3 page)

“Thanks for the warning,” Thorne muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

She smiled through her teeth. “I know.” All morning long her brothers had nagged her about just what had happened in Miles’s study. For some reason, they wouldn’t take her description of a brief altercation with Westlake’s agent at face value. Thank God Thorne hadn’t read her while Savage had taken horrible advantage of her. Horrible, incredible, sexual advantage.

Damn, just thinking about the incident had her aching all over again. Rafael Savage. Even his name sounded dangerous.

Her uncle suddenly turned to her and frowned, and Storm barricaded her mind with layers and layers of mental steel.

“Nothing like making the client happy, eh?” she said with a forced grin.

Uncle Max wasn’t buying it. “Tell me again about Savage. What exactly happened between you two in Locklen’s study?”

The suspicion on her family’s faces didn’t bode well.

“Nothing more to tell than what’s in the report. He got there first. Sporting of him to give me the jewelry, though.”

Max glared. “I hate when my own flesh and blood lies to me.”

“I knew you were lying,” Luc muttered.

“I’d hate to have to stoop to a personal invasion,” Thorne added, “but I will.”

She didn’t welcome a mind-sweep
at all
. So much for her poker face keeping her family at bay.

“It’s not that big a deal.” She tried to repress the memories of Savage’s caresses, which remained uppermost in her mind. “I didn’t lie, exactly. I just didn’t mention the whole truth.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie.” Thorne crossed his arms over his chest.

Max stroked his chin. “Interesting that this is the same man you ran into a few weeks ago on the mayor’s case.”

“It is?” Thorne glowered. “You might have mentioned that. You just said you ran into a Westlake prick at Locklen’s.”

“I didn’t say that, exactly.”

Luc pounced. “What did he do to you? Did he threaten you?”

“He blindfolded me, okay? Blindfolded me and tied me up.”

“Then let you go.” Max’s deceptively light tone didn’t fool her in the slightest. Crap. He knew something. But how much of that something did he know? “He blindfolded you but didn’t gag you; he has an idea of what you can do. And something else from your report bothered me—if he was wearing a mask, how did you recognize him?”

“Well, ah, he has really deep brown eyes. I just recognized him. He knew me right off too.”

Max remained silent.

Unfortunately, Thorne didn’t. “Did he touch you?”

“Of course he touched me. How else do you think he tied me up?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Thorne replied through clenched teeth.

“Well, what did you mean?”

Thorne flushed.

“Damn it. You know what he means. Did the bastard touch you where he shouldn’t have?” Luc clarified.

Her older brothers took great delight in squashing anything that might resemble her sex life. Was it mean of her to make them squirm?

A telepath like Thorne, Max answered without making a sound.
“Not at all. They need to butt out of business that doesn’t concern them.”

She checked her internal shields again, fixed the crack that had let him inside, and fired back at her brothers, “Oh, give me a break. I’m twenty-six, not ten. So what if he kissed me? I’m old enough to know when a man’s interested and when he just wants to rile me.”
Or excite me, or make me so wet I had to throw out my panties.

Max calmed her brothers. “Rafe Savage is no rapist. He’s one of Jurek Westlake’s top agents and one hell of an investigator. Has a nose like a bloodhound and doesn’t stop until he finishes a job.”

She and her brothers turned as one to stare at him. What
didn’t
her uncle know?

Max continued. “Remy’s been doing some surveillance work for me.” Their resident computer expert had joined Buchanan Investigations over a year ago. Worth every penny, according to her uncle. “She’s had a very close eye on Westlake Enterprises ever since our joint venture on the Mitchell/Guest case.”

“Were you planning on sharing this with us at any time during the investigation?”

“No. You have no need to know what Westlake is doing unless I say so. Problem?”

Thorne scowled. “Of course not,
boss.
”

“Wonderful. Look, Savage isn’t one to break the rules. He had a sterling reputation with the Atlanta P.D. before he joined Westlake. Bribes, threats and intimidation won’t work on him.”

“Well then, what will?” Thorne flexed his hands and curled them into fists.

Storm wanted to shout at them to let her deal with the man. It was her he’d kissed. Her he’d touched. She’d handle Savage herself. She didn’t need her older brothers to beat up the big bad bully again. Hell, she’d make Savage apologize on bended knee. She could do it if she focused hard enough.

Max answered before she could. “Let me deal with Westlake matters. It’s Friday. You’ve all been working hard. Take the weekend off. We’re testing the Raeford Hotel’s security next week, so I need you refreshed and ready.”

Storm didn’t wait. She grabbed her opportunity and darted out of the office with a wave goodbye. Her brothers caught her at the elevator.

Thorne reached for his keys. “So, what are your big weekend plans? Hell, it’s been a good month since we’ve had some time off. What are you two going to do?”

“I’ve got a date with Belinda.” Luc smirked. Thorne snorted. Obviously, communication passed between the pair because Luc laughed as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

Storm hated being left out. She poked the ground floor button and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s so funny?”

“Never mind,” Luc said. “Guy talk.”

Probably talking about Belinda the Bimbo’s bra size. Like Storm couldn’t figure out why her brother was dating the queen of easy.

“How about you, Storm?” Thorne asked.

She’d gotten a message from a persistent admirer who’d been trying to date her for months. Hank Cavidge wanted a dinner date in the worst way. He was cute, nice and funny. A terrific neighbor. But she hadn’t been wanting to go. She knew what would happen if she went. Still, resigned, but willing to do anything to prove herself wrong and have
something
to do on a Friday night, she finally intended to call him back.

“I might have plans,” she hedged.

Thorne raised a brow. “Oh? With a guy?”

“No. I’m a lesbian.”

Luc choked. “Are you serious?”

“No, dummy. I’m just tired of the third degree.”

Thorne chuckled. “So long as you keep your distance from the Westlake prick, I hope you have fun.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“Thanks for your permission,” she said, all sweetness and light. “At least I’m not going out with Hank because of the size of his—”

“
Storm,
” her brothers interrupted at the same time.

“Come on, Luc. Tell me it’s Belinda’s intellect that has you so infatuated.”

He had the grace to flush.

Thorne sighed. “God, I hate when you talk about stuff like that.”

“Sex?”

“Shut. Up.” He glared at her.

Luc made a face. “Ech. I don’t even want to think about my baby sister and some guy doing God knows what.” He ignored the finger she shot him. “So Thorne, how about you? What are you up to this weekend?”

The elevator reached the ground level, and they exited into the parking garage and sought their vehicles. They reached Thorne’s first.

“I’m taking the Deuce for a ride.” Thorne patted his motorcycle. “I might head to Atlanta. There’s a rally up there Saturday.” He mounted the flame-patterned, metallic blue bike and revved the loud pipes. “If you need me, I’ll have my cell. Storm, you have any problems at all, let Luc know. I mean it.”

Luc and Storm watched him ride off.

“If he ever finds a woman who can pry him from that bike for more than two seconds, he’ll be in love,” she predicted.

She moved to her own car, a sporty red number she’d had her eye on for months.

“Storm?”

She turned around to see Luc standing by his truck. “Yeah?”

“If that jackass you’re going out with this weekend gives you any problems, you call me. I mean it.”

She nodded dutifully to make him leave, then started her car and headed home.

Did they think she was totally helpless? Angered, she recounted each and every instance of their interference in her social life over the years. Twenty minutes later, she still pondered the overprotective males in her life. At least Uncle Max ignored the matter of her dating. He was all business, which she appreciated. Her mother kept her father
mostly
too occupied to delve into her social life. Weekly dinners with her parents normally ended with questions about who she was or wasn’t dating, but what could she do?

Family was family.

Storm arrived home and let herself into the quaint, bungalow style cottage she’d purchased a year ago. After dropping her keys on the oak table in the foyer, she adjourned to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of iced tea and plunked her tired body onto the down cushions of her comfy sofa.

“Jackass? Why are my dates jackasses and Luc’s
hot babes
?”

In the peaceful silence of her house, she sipped tea and stared unseeingly at the cordless phone on her coffee table. A pad of paper with a phone number written on it sat next to the phone. Why put off the inevitable? Morosely, she reached for the phone and dialed Hank’s number.

Hank picked her up at eight and they went to dinner at a popular restaurant known for its choice selection of Southern cuisine. He reinforced what she already knew about him. Hank had a great sense of humor, good looks and was a self-made man. She found herself really liking him. So far, so good.

When the waiter came to take their orders, Hank asked her what she wanted.

“Order for me.” A small test.

“She’ll have the country steak and collards.”

A good choice, and total chance that he selected what she would have ordered for herself.
I am not manipulating him. No power, no psychic crap. Not tonight.
She smiled before he continued.

He chose the entree, vegetables, salad dressing and beverage she wanted. Still, she tried to convince herself it was all a coincidence. The house vinaigrette was a popular choice. She couldn’t possibly have influenced him so quickly and with so little contact, could she?

The pleasant meal and conversation continued. Hank ordered them dessert. Her favorite. Peach cobbler. Her hopes for the evening took a steady downturn.

When they left the restaurant, she noted the slight chill in the evening air. Before she could finalize the thought, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, sheltering her with his body heat. Once at the movie, he led her to the middle seats in the front of the theater.

Storm always sat in the middle toward the front.

She couldn’t concentrate on the picture as she strove to shut down the power she hadn’t realized she’d been projecting. Why had it taken so little effort to get Miles Locklen to obey her, yet Savage hadn’t been affected at all? Hank, a man she might have had some fun with, was obeying her unspoken needs like a puppet on strings. No challenge, no will of his own, or so it felt to her. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

After the film ended, they followed the crowd out onto a side street.

“That was a great movie, wasn’t it?” Hank asked with a grin as they continued down the street, each step a fruitless journey toward another failed date.

Storm tried, really tried, to put some effort into her smile.

“Sure thing, Hank—great movie.”

The streets had emptied. Hank had parked between the restaurant and movie theater so they could walk after dinner. He’d mentioned he thought Storm might like that. Unfortunately, she did.

As they crossed the empty street, a car came out of nowhere.

Hank froze in shock as the car’s headlights enveloped them. Only Storm’s quick reflexes prevented the two of them from becoming hood ornaments. She shoved him to the sidewalk and leaped to join him, except she wasn’t fast enough.

The car clipped her and she fell next to Hank. As they both lay panting on the hard concrete, Storm watched the car speed down the road and out of sight.

“Stupid drunk driver.” Hank blinked at her. “Are you all right?” Still shaken by the near miss, he didn’t seem to notice her odd calm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Stupid drunk driver.” A drunk that steadied the car right after he’d hit her. Interesting, and very, very painful.

Rafe bolted upright in bed. Black sedan, midnight, gray eyes, a blond man. Images flashed through his mind like shards of glass, shooting daggers of pain into his brain. He groaned and reached for his head with unsteady hands.
I control my visions. I don’t dream them, not since… Christ, what now?

He stumbled out of bed and tried to clear his thoughts, with little success. Rafe moved to his bathroom sink and splashed his face with water. Staring into the mirror, he noticed dilated pupils in his bloodshot brown eyes.

He rinsed his face again and held onto the sink until the shaking stopped. Then he scowled as he realized what part of the vision meant. He knew the owner of those gray eyes.

But he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Chapter Three

Friday night blurred into Saturday as Storm lay on her bed, careful not to put any pressure on her left side. She could barely tolerate her short sleep shirt. While sleeping, she’d rolled onto her left side and the pain had woken her immediately. The front left panel of that black sedan had slammed her high on her leg. The red welt she’d seen last night had transitioned nicely into a monstrous, purple bruise.

She thanked her blessings she hadn’t broken any bones.

Talk about a bad ending to a bad date. She’d forced Hank to leave her outside her door with a reminder to say nothing of their hit and run. She’d also convinced him to ask Sofia, the owner of their favorite coffee shop, out on a date. Sofia was more his type, anyway. He’d gazed at her blankly before leaving with a smile.