War of Hearts Read online

  9

  Fury

  * * *

  “From what we can ascertain, the threat against Zara isn’t real,” Axe says on Friday afternoon when he arrives at the clubhouse to go over some stuff with King, Hyde, and me.

  I haven’t seen King since last night when he took Lily to the hospital. He looks exhausted, but his relief that Lily is okay blazed from him when he told me the outcome of their trip to the hospital. I spent the night at King’s, outside. After what happened between Zara and me in the kitchen, no fucking way was I going back inside. Mace showed up just before 6:00 a.m., and I took off as fast as I could. I’m looking forward to heading down to Melbourne early next week. I need the break from Zara and my attraction to her.

  “Ricardo tried to get into bed with Black Deeds, but they didn’t want anything to do with him,” Axe continues. “We dug pretty deep into the shit he had going on and found nothing to suggest he had ties to anyone else who would put Storm or anyone linked to Storm at risk.”

  “So you think she’s safe?” Hyde asks, crossing his arms and planting his feet wide.

  “Yeah.”

  Hyde looks at King. “You still wanna keep eyes on her for a while? I can rearrange some shit to make that happen if you do.”

  The shit he’s talking about rearranging is the club run down to Melbourne next week to help Winter, the Melbourne chapter president, deal with some problems down there.

  King pushes off from his desk where he was settled and straightens. “Yeah, I do. I trust this information, but I don’t wanna take any chances. Not at the moment when we’ve got assholes coming at us from all fucking directions.” He eyes me. “You and Devil take turns watching Zara, and when we all head down to Melbourne next week, you’ll stay behind and watch her 24/7. With any fucking luck, we won’t be tied up down there for too long.”

  Fuck.

  Not what I wanna be doing. Not by a long fucking shot.

  King continues, looking at me, “Good work on Hagarty. This shit should keep him in line for a long time, which means it’ll keep Stark in line, too.”

  We discussed Hagarty before Axe arrived and King advised me that I’m finished with him. The dirt I’ve uncovered so far is enough for his purposes. I have no idea what he means when he says that dirt should keep Stark in line except that I know dealing with her keeps King’s stress levels high, so it should mean he can relax a little where she’s concerned.

  We finish up and I make my way down the hall towards the front door of the clubhouse. I’m on duty to watch Zara this afternoon and tonight. After last night, I may as well be on duty to find ways to give King a reason to hack my dick off and hang me for my sins. I’ve struggled to keep my eyes off Zara since the day we went running, but I saw her in a whole new light last night and I liked what I saw so much it intensified that attraction. So much so that I almost kissed her. Under her father’s fucking roof.

  My only goal in life right now is to make it through each day without laying a hand on her. If that means I have to go back to being the asshole she hates, so be it. This gig of watching her will end soon and we can go back to having nothing to do with each other. Until then, I’ll pretend she’s the entitled little princess I thought she was rather than the caring daughter and sister I now know her to be.

  I leave the clubhouse and head over to her place. When I pull up outside the house, she’s standing in front of her car in the driveway, ranting at it. The bonnet is up and she’s bent over the engine, madly touching things like she knows what she’s doing.

  “You got any real idea of what you’re doing?” I ask, moving next to her.

  Those beautiful blue eyes of hers land on me. I’m not sure if the anger in them is because of the car or because of me. The dynamic between us shifted last night and hell if I know where we’re at now.

  The anger in her eyes softens. “Ugh, this car is a pain in my ass!”

  “When was the last time you had it serviced?”

  “Oh God, don’t you give me a lecture about that, too. King never shuts up about it.”

  I look at her expectantly. “When was it?”

  “Fine, it was too long ago. A year maybe. But don’t tell King that, okay? He thinks I had it done recently.”

  “You told him you had it done when you didn’t?”

  “Yes! Otherwise he would just keep giving me hell about it.”

  I frown. “Why wouldn’t you just tell him the truth and get it done?”

  She looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet. “Ah, I don’t know, maybe because it’s expensive.”

  “Fuck, Zara, you do realise King has a whole clubhouse of guys who know their way around an engine, right? That shit could be done for free if you can’t afford it.” While I think she’s made a poor choice, I can’t deny it helps reinforce my new impression of her. The fact she hasn’t begged her parents for free shit impresses me.

  She places her hands on her hips and hits me with a defiant look. “Yeah, well maybe I don’t want to hassle him when I know he’s got a whole head full of problems that are way worse than mine.”

  “Yeah, well maybe you should hassle him because he’d rather know you’re safe, especially at night. Imagine if you’d broken down somewhere other than here.”

  Something I’ve said hits home with her and her defensiveness disappears. “Fine. You’ve made your point. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  “I’ll check it out for you.”

  She waves me off. “It’s all good. I’ll get it sorted with King. I don’t want to put you out.”

  I’ve no fucking idea why I continue offering her help except my mouth seems to have taken over my body and is hell-bent on making promises all over the damn place. “I’m here all night with nothing else to do. I’ll take a look at it now and see if I can fix it.”

  She turns silent for a moment before saying slowly, “Okay, thank you.” Then she says, “Umm, do you want a drink? I mean, it’s hot and all.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  Taking a step back, she says, “I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, she turns and hurries inside. It’s like she can’t get in there fast enough. I’ve no idea what the fuck just happened, but something did. Her voice changed and she practically stumbled over herself to get away from me. I’ll never fucking understand women.

  10

  Zara

  * * *

  God, could I be any more awkward? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? After last night, I can’t stop thinking about Fury. I’m so confused about him. Does he like me? Do I like him? Or is this thing between us—if it can even be called a thing—just physical? Like, the guy is hot, no doubt about it, but is that all I’m feeling about him? Gah. Having him show up and offer to do something to help me only confuses me more. Now he’s being nice. Like he was last night. It makes me want to spend time with him. And that doesn’t feel like just a physical attraction.

  I wish Holly were here. She’s the practical one out of the two of us. She’d talk me around until I saw this for the bad idea it is. Besides the fact he’s older than me, Fury is Storm for goodness’ sake. King laid down the law with me months ago and told me to take my attention off his guys. He’d never be okay with something happening between Fury and me. Holly would remind me of that if she were here.

  So, because I don’t have my older sister to give me some of her wisdom, I try to talk some sense into myself. I pour Fury a glass of cold water and run through all these reasons why allowing this attraction to grow is a bad idea. I’m on reason number five when my phone rings. I glance at it and see it’s Marissa. Again. This is like the tenth time today she’s called.

  I know she’s just going to keep going, so I snatch the phone up. “Hey,” I answer, snappier than I was going for. But I can’t help it; I feel snappy towards Marissa.

  “Oh no, don’t you ‘hey’ me like you haven’t been ignoring all my calls,” she snaps back. “What the fuck’s going on, Zara?”

  I’
ve pretty much come to the realisation that Marissa is not a good friend to me and that I really don’t think I want her in my life anymore. Ending the friendship is going to be hard, but keeping it will be harder. “I’ve got some personal stuff going on.” Not a lie. “But we do need to talk.”

  “Damn straight we need to talk. Why did you tell Tommy you don’t wanna see him anymore?”

  “Because I don’t. The guy’s a dick.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means you’ve always been into dickheads. At least Tommy’s the hottest one around and comes with a hot best friend.”

  “I have not always been into dickheads.”

  “Yeah, you have. And you’ve fucked more of them than anyone I know. So don’t get all high and mighty about yourself.”

  That’s it. I’m done. “You know what, Marissa? You just proved how bad a friend you are and I’m done with you.”

  “Ah no, bitch, I’m not the bad friend in this friendship. That would be you. You don’t show up to my parties half the time anymore, you treat me like shit when you do show up, and you ruined my chance with Puck. Because you don’t wanna hang out with Tommy anymore, he’s stopped coming around, which means Puck has stopped coming around. You’re so damn selfish.”

  Standing on the outside of our friendship looking in, I see the shallowness of her world, a world I’ve been a part of for years. It’s like staring in a mirror, though, because the things she just mentioned are things I used to focus on, too. Somewhere along the way, those things stopped being important to me.

  The thing that hurts the most is the fact she doesn’t even know me. “No, you’re a bad friend, Marissa. You go around telling people I’m a slut. I know you do, because you actually think I am. The fact I’m not, and you have no idea I’m not, makes me finally admit to myself that you don’t even care enough about me to know that. You don’t care enough to make it a point to know anything of real value about me.”

  “Babe,” she says, her voice filled with venom, “you are a slut. Stop trying to tell yourself you’re not. And fuck you. I make the decision when a friendship ends. Everyone knows that.”

  I don’t bother to correct her again or tell her I’ve slept with exactly three guys in my life. Two were boyfriends. One was a one-night stand. None of that makes me a slut. And besides, I don’t even believe in judging a girl in that way.

  “Goodbye, Marissa,” I say before removing the phone from my ear and ending the call.

  I place the phone down and stare at it feeling some weird emotions. Relieved to have ended the friendship, but kinda sad about it, too. I also feel a little sick in my tummy over this, which is strange because I know this might be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

  I’m lost in thought when Fury’s deep voice drags me back to reality. I blink and bring him into focus. “Sorry,” I say, “I missed what you said.”

  His brows pull together. “You okay?”

  “Yes.”

  He steps closer. “You don’t look okay, Zara.”

  I don’t want to tell him what’s wrong, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at me with genuine concern that makes me open up. “I think I just ended my friendship with my best friend.”

  “You think? Or you know?”

  The room is silent while I stare at him, but there’s a whole lot of noise going on inside my head. Did I really just tell Marissa we’re done? Am I okay with that? Does that mean I have no friends now? Because Marissa will surely do her best to make sure no one we went to school with will want anything to do with me. And why is Fury standing in front of me looking at me like he cares about me?

  “I know.” My voice breaks and I try to swallow my emotions.

  He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m taking it if you were the one to end it, she was a shit friend.”

  I nod, swallowing hard again. Willing my emotions to behave while Fury is in front of me. “Yeah, she was.”

  Again, he takes his time before saying, “Well, in my experience, friends are overrated. It sounds like you’re better off without her.”

  “I probably will be.”

  “Has that guy been back?”

  His question throws me, and because I’m so focused on Marissa, I stumble over who he’s referring to. “Which guy?”

  “Tommy.”

  “Oh.” I shake my head. “No. I haven’t seen him since the day he came here.”

  “Good. He’s a dickhead.”

  Butterflies camp out in my tummy at the interest he’s showing in my well-being.

  I like him taking that interest.

  My gaze drops to his lips.

  Just one taste is all I need.

  And then I’ll leave him alone and do as King told me to do.

  “Zara?”

  His voice is so sexy. Rough. All man. Not like the boys I’ve dated.

  I just want one taste and one touch.

  Oh God, those muscles.

  This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

  You won’t be able to stop at just one of anything.

  Especially not when he’s here every day.

  “I’ve moved on from Tommy,” I blurt.

  Fury’s eyes narrow at me. “With someone else?”

  No.

  With you.

  I can’t tell him that, though. I’ll sound like a dumb teenager with a crush.

  I’m saved when he receives a text and directs his full attention to it. He frowns and types out a reply before glancing back up at me.

  In an effort to end this conversation and encourage him back out of the house so there’s some space between him and my desperate desire to lock lips with him, I shove the glass of water his way. “How are you going with my car?”

  He takes the glass. “Still looking.” He then proceeds to talk to me in mechanic speak, most of which goes straight over my head. Words like exhaust manifold and exhaust gases and oxygen sensors and fuel injectors are thrown out along with lots more that mean nothing to me. I listen intently, figuring that when he gets to the end, he’ll tell me something important that I may understand. However, he finishes with, “This may take some time.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Is the garage empty? I’m going to need some light to work with soon.”

  “Yes. Holly’s out for the night.”

  “Good.”

  Without another word, he goes back outside and I ease out the breath I’ve been holding. I really need to get a handle on this.

  Five hours pass in which Fury goes out to get some parts for the car and then comes back and fixes it. I spend those hours taking a long bath, contemplating life, and baking six cakes to try to take my mind off all the things I’m overwhelmed by.

  When Fury comes inside just after 10:00 p.m., he’s covered in oil and grime. It’s on his clothes, in his hair, and smeared all over his skin, including his face. The fact I still find him hot as hell when he’s a sweaty, dirty mess is more proof I’m fucked up in my thinking where he’s concerned.

  He places my car keys on the kitchen counter and says, “She’s fixed.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh my God! Really?” I thought for sure my car had no hope.

  “Yeah.” He then rattles off all the things he fixed before finishing with, “From now on, I want that car serviced every six months or every ten thousand k’s, whichever comes first. And if you can’t afford it and don’t wanna ask King, get your ass to me and I’ll do it.”

  My eyes stay wide. For more reasons than one. “And now you sound like King, all bossy and shit.”

  “Yeah, because you need to hear what we say. I’m being deadly serious; you’re a female, you can’t afford to break down in the middle of fucking nowhere at night. Don’t let your car get that bad again.”

  I don’t love the way he bosses me, but I have to agree with him about not letting my car get so bad it breaks down and leaves me stranded alone somewhere. I also a
ppreciate him fixing the car, so I don’t argue back. It takes a lot to bite my tongue, because I’m a born fighter, but I force myself to.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. I told you I’d fix it if I could.”

  “Yeah, but what about the cost of the parts?” God, please don’t let him say hundreds. I’m not sure where I’ll find hundreds.

  “Nothing, Zara. I know a guy. He gave them to me in exchange for shit.”

  “So it cost you something. I want to pay you for that.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters and glances at the cakes on the counter. “How about you let me use your shower and cut me some cake, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Fine,” I say, even though I would prefer to pay him. “I’ll get you a towel and you’ll drop your dirty clothes outside the bathroom because if you’re not going to let me pay you for the parts, you’re bloody well going to let me wash your clothes.”

  He shakes his head. Not in a pissed off way, but rather, in a half-amused-half-frustrated way. “You always this fucking argumentative?”

  “You better believe it. You don’t think I lived with Mum all my life and King for four years without picking up some skills in this department, do you?”

  His hands go to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head. Throwing it to me, he says, “Where’s your bathroom?”

  I barely hear him because I’m too busy taking in those muscles of his. The ones I thought I’d appreciated the hell out of while he was fully clothed. Turns out, I wasn’t even close to fully appreciating them.

  Aware of him staring at me waiting for an answer, I drag my eyes up to his. The heat I see there hits me deep in my core and I’m overcome with the feeling that anything I thought I knew about guys and sex is nothing compared to what Fury could teach me. That’s because I’ve never been looked at by a man the way he’s looking at me. And after months of not even wanting to look at a guy, Fury has brought my attention back in a big way. It feels good.