Page 15 of Breaking Storm

Sean glances in the mirror. “What the hell happened?” I tell him, and then he shifts his eyes to her. “Good job, Teagan.”

She gives him a timid smile, nods, and arches her eyebrow at me. For some unknown reason, her boldness sends a jolt to my dick. I lay my head back and grin. Even though I’d never admit it, I’m thankful and indebted to this woman. Who would have thought my childhood crush would wind up saving my life?

Chapter 7

I COME DOWNSTAIRS TO SIT in the backyard. From Joey’s office, I hear James tell Joey to beat the shit out of me, so I press my body against the wall to keep from being seen. A lump lodges in my throat. Joey assaulted me, so there’s no doubt in my mind he’ll take his dad’s advice. My hands fist the front of my shirt as I continue to listen to the conversation. To my surprise, Joey snubs James’ suggestion. What does he mean by being “led by the balls for years and doing everything James asked to keep her safe”? Who isshe? Why does he need to keephersafe?

I suck in a breath and hold it when James exits the office and Joey isn’t far behind. Unconsciously, I let out an audible breath, and Joey turns to me and tells me about the fight. I’m not about to argue since James planted the idea of beating me in Joey’s mind, so I escape before he makes good on the suggestion.

While getting ready, my hand trembles and I fumble my mascara and lipstick. Joey only makes it worse by demanding I change shirts. Him bossing me around regarding what I wear infuriates me. I mean, I can dress myself.

But in all honesty, while I dress and we fight, I steal glances at his bare chest. It’s the first time I’ve taken a moment to examine his physique. It’s beautiful in a warrior kind of way.Joey's body is a battlefield of injuries, scars, and losses. A war map of suffering and destruction. His muscles wrought from fighting. An exquisite specimen of a man, whose body strength mirrors his assertive personality. There are areas of jagged skin poking out from tattoos, which are splattered over his chest, back, and arms, but he’s not completely covered in tats. The lightness of his mint green eyes is in juxtapose to his black hair and build made for annihilation. Their softness of calm waters can lure in the hardest of souls.

And then I’m snapped into defensive mode when he asks, “Where’s the picture, Tea?” This pierces my nerves, and there’s an unidentifiable glitch in my heart. I’ve never experienced this hiccup as if something struck my chest, causing an involuntary pause in my heart. Anger rises. But why? Is this jealousy?No!I’d be sick in the head to be jealous of the husband who assaulted me.

I taunt him until he has me against the wall. The vein in his neck pulses, and I take the blow from his unleashed threat and tell him. By the bedside table, he caresses the picture of her. The woman I assume he protects. Tears stab at the back of my eyes, and I blink to stop them from escaping.

At the fight site, I tuck myself into Sean and Joey’s sides. This is a breeding ground for brutality. Men’s protruding muscles flex, there are manly grunts, and internal roars rumble from their chests. I’m the only woman present, which sparks the goosebumps along my skin. James leers at me, so when Joey moves me to the side out of his eyesight, I’m more than happy to comply. But the kiss... well, that was unexpected. The first full-on kiss. His lips make up for the hardness of his body. They press against mine, tenderly, and then they’re gone in an instant.

Fight time. Joey removes his shirt, and again, I’m lost to the embroidery of his tattoos and muscles, especially when he attacks. The power behind his punches. His body is prepared and constricts against assaults. This display of barbarism should sicken me for being mesmerized by Joey’s valor. Instead, I have an appreciation for the male form and the blatant honesty of feral men.

Gunfire erupts, which I’ve been protected from until now. Joey replaces Sean, and we run, except my fear is throwing me off-balance and I lose my sense of direction. Joey folds me into a receding entryway to a store. Like a sphinx, he guards in front of me. He assaulted me on our wedding night, and I use him as coverage against danger. My life, my common sense, crushed into gravel. I should wish death on him. Hope he gets shot protecting me, except such anger doesn’t exist. That’s not to say he doesn’t make me furious, but not enough to call upon the grim reaper and cast a wish. In the last four days, Joey hasn’t touched me in any sexual way. Nor has he physically hurt me.

When Joey’s busy hitting one guy, the other tries to sneak up on him. I crawl out from the entranceway and go for the crowbar snuggled against the curb. The glint of a gun has me sprinting toward the guy, whacking his arm downward and knocking the gun out of his hand.

The guys scramble away, and we find Sean waiting for us in the car. Joey berates me for saving his life, but after Joey tells Sean what happened, and Sean voices his appreciation, I turn into a child and gloat.

IT’S FRIDAY, AND I ONLY took off work until Thursday. I dress for my florist job in black jeans and a T-shirt that says, “Iris you were here.” Joey is out today doing God knows what, so I sneak downstairs and head to the Fullerton station. He lives… we live in Lincoln Park, and Fullerton is the closest station that will bring me into the Loop. My father never gave me a car, saying, “It’s too risky not knowing where you are.” It paid off. I enjoy taking public transportation, because it gives me a chance to read or get lost in thought.

I keep glancing over my shoulder until I arrive at the station without anyone following me. The idea of slipping past Sean makes me smile. It’s later in the morning, so there aren’t too many people on the platform. Soon we’re at the Washington and Wells stop, so I walk to LaSalle and Randolph, where the florist shop is located.

My boss Rosie is clueless as to why I took off for almost a week because I’m keeping my marriage a secret. How can I explain a wedding when she assumed I was single? Although I dated Ashton for a year, I never mentioned him. I take in a deep breath and push open the door. The bell chimes, and Rosie glances up, revealing her peach-colored cheeks. She is the sweetest boss, and she blows my mind regarding her knowledge of plants and flowers.

She tosses her gloves on the counter and comes from behind it. “I missed you, Teagan!”

Walking into her open arms, I say, “I missed you, too.”

Rosie tilts her head from side to side, examining my face, and then she slides her hands down my arms and takes my hands in hers. “You look different.”

I pat down my hair. “It’s windy out.”

“Were you sick?”

I hate lying to sweet Rosie. A Latino woman of five feet zero inches. A thirty-five-year-old stuck in a twenty-year-old body. She’s fit with a good supply of healthy snacks under the counter. Rosie has been a shoulder for me to lean on when times were tough. I never told her about my family or about the devouring environment I come from. She’s too nice to hear of this life, and I’m too embarrassed. The only thing I shared with her is that I attend college. So, our conversations consist of the shop and its customers.

“No, I wasn’t sick. My friends and I went to Galena for some spa treatment.”

Rosie gives me a last once over and returns to her flowers. “Officer Angelo Podesta stopped by yesterday.” She gives me a sly smile and twirls her index finger toward me. “He asked about you.”

“Um, Rosie?”

She still holds the smile. “Teagan?”

“If that smirk and twirly thing suggests his romantic interest in me, then you’re missing the point.”

Her hands land on her hips. “What do you mean? He asked about you!”

“Okay, how did the conversation go?”

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