Debt Collection II

The strange man sat back down, returned his motorcycle boots to the top of the desk, and laced his hands behind his head. 

“He will be here in a minute. Why are you looking for him though?” He asked.

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. Storm put that with his black hair, impossibly blue eyes, and exotic name. "You're Irish." She muttered, before she could stop herself.

He smiled a smile that could melt a woman at ten paces. "And who else would be running a pub?" He asked.

"But you don't own it." She stated, remembering that Mr. Tim was.

“Perhaps.” He said with a shrug. “But I doubt that is the answer to my earlier question.”

“I’m here to collect my pay. He had eaten at my step mum’s restaurant without paying up. She sent me to do the needful.” Storm replied, meeting the man’s gaze steadily.

“I see. How much is that?” The man asked.

His voice went frosty, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out. 

“Four hundred dolls.” Storm replied, and the man’s eyes narrowed, pupils flicking to slits as he retreated to the predator within him. She knew he was assessing a situation.

A drop of silence, and Storm began to wonder if she had made the right choice obeying her step mum in coming here. She would have just sat it out as the usual, bypassing the threat of having no food to eat for the night and the next day. Justin could help her out with that.

What pushed me to come here? She thought, looking at every nook and cranny of the room, everywhere but at the man who was as hot as hell sitting across from her. She knew he was looking at her, and in any other situation, she would have told him to go to hell for bothering her this much before storming out of the room with or without the money. But unfortunately for her, they had to meet at one of the most crime festered bar in the town. She still loved her life.

“Four hundred dolls huh?” The man asked, and she nodded, not trusting her voice. For some reason, she was also nervous and tongue tied. This has never happened before.

“Okay then. Take this and be out of here. It is not safe for a girl like you.” He mentioned, and she darted her eyes to his hand which was now outstretched towards her.

Storm took the money without hesitation, glad that he was paying up for a debtor, signifying that she wouldn’t be coming here anytime soon. Using her eyes, she did a row count of the crispy bills even as she stood up gingerly on her feet. The man stood up too, perhaps trying to walk her out of the office.

Not planning to be in close range with the strange man, she walked abruptly to the door, opened it and walked into the bar. Outside the room, she exhaled deeply, inhaling deeply the next second when she felt the heat emanating from the man behind her.

“Do you care for a drink?” He asked her, more like whispered into her ears, and she shook her head, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“Too bad.” He muttered, stepping towards the cabinet which was right beside her and taking up a beer bottle.  But as he opened the bottle to take a sip of beer, a shot rang out at the entrance the bar.

Storm’s heart beat plummeted.

The bar had no windows, but the front door always stood wide open, and now a cascade of gunfire poured through the welcoming entrance.

The next thing Storm knew, she was on the floor with two hundred and fifty pounds of solid male muscle on top of her. She knew exactly who pinned her, knew the shape and feel of the long body pressing her back and thighs, trapping her with male strength. She struggled but couldn't budge him. Damn him.

"Get off me." She gritted out, feeling her body react suddenly, not minding the fact that she was in danger of being shot. No was she coming here again.

His voice with its Irish lilt trickled into her ear, swirling heat into her belly. "You stay down when the bullets fly, love."

Love? What the hell was the ego maniac talking about? Tried as hard as she may, she couldn’t get him to budge.

A ferocious roar sounded as one of the bouncers, or so she thought ran past, heading outside of the bar. What was wrong with him? Storm thought. Didn’t he know he could get killed? She heard more shots and then the bouncer's bellow of pain. What a stupid way to die. She thought, whilst wondering why his voice had sounded like an animal’s. Bullets splintered the bottles above the bar with a musical sound, and colorful glass and fragrant alcohol rained to the floor. Another roar, this one from another guy, vibrated in the air, and the hail of bullets suddenly ceased. Tires squealed as an engine revved before the sound died off into the distance.

Stunned silence followed, then whimpers, moans, and the angry voice of the bartender which had been washing glasses earlier. "Bastards. Lick brain ass**les."

The few people started rising from the floor, talking, cursing.

"You can get off me now," Storm said.

But the man lingered, his warm weight pouring sensations into Storm's brain-strength, virility, protectiveness.

“You're safe with me, love, and you always will be.” He whispered, and she swallowed down her saliva, refusing to dwell on his statement. Finally, he rose to his feet and pulled her up with him; six-feet-five of enigmatic hot male, the black-haired, blue-eyed, to whom she owed her life.

But still the man didn't step away from her. He stayed right inside her personal space so that the heat of his body surrounded her. "Anyone hurt?" he called. "Everyone all right?"

His voice was strong, but Storm sensed his worry that he'd have to act as something like a guardian tonight, which meant cleaning the bar and its environs of the dead bodies to avoid the invasion of the cops. She had a feeling that the he was also going to go after whomever had been behind the attack. She wondered what it was all about, even though she wasn’t really interested in knowing anything about guns, kills and the likes of it.