Storm by Aria Ray

Chapter Seven

Zoe

Ilied to Storm when I told him I needed to go visit my mother.

Yeah, maybe I should have gone to check on her, but I needed some time alone. I needed to think about how I was feeling.

I was amazed at myself for even having pulled this feat off.

Me, dating a biker…I would never have imagined myself in this position! And then everything that happened at the concert. I almost got into a catfight with a girl who was dressed like a stripper just because she got all up in my face. I didn’t know I had it in me to react that way.

I bit down on my lip as I ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, to my apartment. Then I locked myself in with my heart racing.

And what was that kiss about?

Two kisses. Both fiery. I touched my lips with quivering fingers, hopeful that I might still be able to feel the imprint Storm left.

Those kisses hadn’t felt fake. He said he was kissing me for the sake of the story, but I had given into them without hesitation.

Mom called, catching me by surprise, while I was fantasizing about a kiss and how my whole body tingled when Storm touched me. I was so embarrassed.

“Mom?”

She was crying again.

I wasn’t sure if she would ever stop crying now. She had been through too much heartbreak; more than one woman was capable of withstanding.

“Zoe!” she shrieked into the phone.

“Mom, do you need me to come over? Is everything alright?”

My eyes filled with tears, too. Just hearing the helplessness in her voice was enough. She would never be herself again. Not until we had found Alison.

“I just need you to bring Ali back to me. Honey, please, can you do that?” She managed to get her voice steady enough to say those words before hurtling back into bitter sobs.

“I’m trying, Mom. I want Ali back too.”

“Then we need to give these people what they want.”

“Mom, we can’t. It won’t work. They’re just trying to rob us. There’s no way they’ll just hand Ali over to us after everything she has seen. She knows too much about them.”

Mom broke into louder sobs.

“They sent us another message, Zoe. We’re losing time. They’re not going to wait around for the money. They’re going to make us pay, one way or the other.”

“What did the message say, Mom?”

“They’re arranging for the drop off on Saturday. This Saturday. If we don’t do as we’re told, they’re going to kill Ali. And Zoe, honey, I think they’ll do it. I believe they’ll kill her.”

She broke down again. Tears trickled down my cheeks, too. I wanted to be able to believe just as she did—that the kidnappers would return Alison once they had the money—but I couldn’t allow myself to be as naive as her.

“I promise I’m doing everything I can, Mom,” I whispered.

“They sent another picture. There, I’ve sent it to your phone. Look at her, Zoe. Look at that picture of your sister and tell me you still want to hold out on that ransom.”

Mom ended the call before I could respond. It was unfair. These kidnappers had given her a glimmer of hope of getting her baby back, and no matter what logical explanation I gave her, she couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just go along with it.

My phone pinged with the image she’d sent me. It was a photograph of a photograph, which I assumed she received in the mail.

I gasped, crying out when I saw Alison.

It looked like a different room, possibly in a different motel. She was lying on her side on a dirty looking bed. Her wrists and ankles were tied, and she was in a fetal position, like she was trying to protect her body from getting hurt. With her eyes shut, the bright flash of the camera had caught pink marks on her face and purple bruises down her neck where someone’s hands looked to have been.

I flung my phone to the ground. I felt sick.

I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved into the toilet, wrapping my arms around it like it was my savior. I couldn’t stop the tears. No wonder Mom was so upset. Seeing that photograph of Alison was... I had no words to describe it. I didn’t even want to imagine what she was going through. The struggle to live through what she had to endure.

I stood and looked in the mirror.

My makeup had run down my face in little shiny rivulets. There were dark circles under my eyes because I hadn’t been sleeping. I hadn’t been eating, either. Every time my dark mood was about to lift, I was reminded of my sister’s suffering which knocked the breath out of me.

Splashing my face with water, I stepped out of the bathroom and went searching for my phone.

My hand shook violently when I dialed his number.

Storm answered the call within moments.

“Zoe?” He wasn’t expecting me to call. I had no reason to call him.

He had nothing to do with Alison. It wasn’t even his son who was missing.

“I…my sister…we received another threat. Another photograph of her. Storm…they’re hurting her.”

I wept into the phone like I had never wept before. I had never even let Alison or my mother see me like this. I had never allowed myself to be this weak, but for some reason, I was breaking down now, and I didn’t care what Storm thought of me.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to find her, Zoe. I promise,” he said.

Was I just imagining it, or did Storm’s voice feel like a hug? I kept the phone pressed to my ear while he spoke to me in a low, quiet voice which was completely unexpected.

He was a strong, dangerous man. Dangerous to be around for more reasons than the obvious. There was nothing about him that gave any hints to this side of him. I closed my eyes as I let the tears flow.

“We’re going to find your sister,” he continued. I hadn’t spoken for a while. I didn’t have the words, and he didn’t seem to be in a rush, either. He just let me stay on the phone and cry while we discussed our plans.

“I don’t know…what I’m doing.” I tried to even my breathing, but I was still gasping for air between words. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to help her.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, but we’re making progress, more progress than the cops will make. Also, you’re not alone. We’re in this together.”

Amazed, I didn’t ask any more questions. I didn’t want to spook him.

Is he just being polite?

But I couldn’t deny the warm glow that was spreading within me now.

It wasn’t like he’d made any earth-shattering revelations; there was just something about the way he spoke. He was calm. Rock-solid. I believed him. I wanted to believe everything was going to be okay.

“Do you think you’ll be okay by yourself tonight?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Then maybe you should try and get some rest. We don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us.”

“Goodnight, Storm.”

“Goodnight, Zoe.”

The call ended. I clutched my chest and gulped in a lungful of air. How did he knock the air out of me? I wasn’t even in the same room with him.

How did he manage to make me feel like this?

I decided to follow his advice. I was exhausted, and I needed sleep. There wasn’t anything I could do tonight. I hoped tomorrow would bring some new leads we could chase.

I went to bed and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was thinking about him again. Now, not only did I have the kisses to fantasize about, but also that smooth caressing voice of his.

∞∞∞

I woke up in the middle of the night, gasping, like I had run out of oxygen. When I sat up in bed, I noticed that my hand was between my legs.

I was panting. I was covered in a thin film of sweat. My skin was hot to the touch. And I had this intense feeling of arousal tingling all over my body.

It was pretty obvious to me that I’d been thinking about Storm. He was on my mind.

And my fingers were on my swollen throbbing clit.

How could this be happening? How could I allow myself to go this far? The kisses were a part of the game. It was all an act. He had said so himself.

Then why was I touching myself? Thinking of him?

I fell back in bed, but for some reason, I still hadn’t pulled my hand away. Heat radiated from between my thighs, and my nipples were stiff under my pajamas.

A light moan escaped my lips when I pictured Storm’s mouth there, taking in one of my nipples, sucking on it gently, then firmly.

My fingers stroked my clit again.

I glided down under the sheets, enjoying the coolness. My forehead was still damp. Somehow, in my sleep, I had brought myself right to the edge of an orgasm. There was an easy chance that I would have come. In my sleep! Dreaming about Storm!

I pictured him again. His strong, muscular arms circling around me. His big body stretching over me, pinning me to this bed while he kissed my neck, tasted my lips.

My fingers slipped into my wet pussy. I arched my back, thrusting my hips up as I imagined Storm above me. I didn’t know what his cock would feel like. I didn’t know how big he was or how deeply he would fill me, but I pictured it all.

His pants falling off. My hands taking his cock and stroking him, feeling the pulse and throb of him growing. Then I imagined guiding him, so he’d plunge inside me.

I moaned, sliding my fingers further inside my pussy. My clit throbbed, so I stroked a finger over it and imagined it was his tongue. My teeth sank into my bottom lip, as my finger hovered for a second stroke.

Storm teasing my clit was the only thing on my mind when I tipped over the edge. The force took me by surprise.

My toes curled. My back arched off the mattress. I rolled to the side, gripped the sheets, and waited for the throbbing to end. It was replaced by a deep ache.

I sat up in bed again, shocked that I’d allowed this to happen.

I wasn’t shocked that I’d pleasured myself. I was shocked that I’d fantasized about Storm. I’d dreamed of Storm!

He wasn’t my type. There was nothing about his world that made me comfortable. I did not belong there.

Most importantly, he did not want me there. He was working with me because he had to. Because he wanted to help his friend. And maybe he was a gentleman after all, so he was being polite to me—telling me what I needed to hear.

That was all. Nothing more.

I jumped out of bed to go clean myself. In fact, I decided to have a long hot shower, just to bring my heart rate back to normal.

With no clue how I was going to do it, I was now determined to put some space between us before things got really whacky.

He would not take over my life like he’d taken over my fantasies.