Seven Sons

Chapter Eleven

The clubhouse has few windows and a lot of soundproofing, a dream for a girl who is terrified of thunder and lightning.

The minute we get to the top of the stairwell and Jase opens the fire escape, I am cringing at the bright flashes of light and the menacing thunder that rips through every fiber of my being.

Once the door is open, the noise of the wind and thunder becomes deafening, and I cower at the prospect of going out into it.

"Come on," Jase yells above the din, pulling my hand. "Trust me!"

Trust him? Of course I trust him. He risked his goddamn life to try and save mine all those years ago.

But does Sammi trust him? Should she?

"Fuck it," I breathe, unplanting my stubborn feet and following him outside into the howling wind and neon flashes. It's got to be better that being stuck downstairs with my mother.

I squint my eyes, cringing against the sudden assault of stinging, sharp raindrops that are almost solid enough to be considered hail. They bite at my skin like tiny bullets, baying for my blood.

"Why the hell do you want to be out here?" I yell at Jase. He tugs my hand and we keep running. The visibility is terrible and I can barely see what's in front of me, apart from thick sheets of icy rain.

Lightning strikes uncomfortably close and I scream, practically jumping on Jase. He laughs, pointing at something in front of us. At first, I don't realize what it is – it's a room without walls, and it's not wet inside.

It's not magic, it's a room made entirely of glass. A greenhouse.

How odd, I think, and squeal again when another bolt of lightning strikes less than a hundred feet away. I am practically glued to Jase like a spider monkey stuck to his back.

I breathe a sigh of relief as he opens a door in the glass and pulls me inside, closing it behind us. The storm still rages around us, but at least I feel a little more protected. The room is pretty big, at least twenty feet across and with a stunning view of the Venice Beach coastline.

"What is this place?" I ask. "A marijuana farm?"

Jase smiles. "Used to be. Until the cops started doing aerial surveillance. Now it's my hangout when I get sick of being down there with my idiot brothers."

"Do you bring all your father's whores up here?" I ask him, wringing the extra moisture out of my long brown hair.

Jase chuckles. "Did you just call yourself a whore?"

I smile wickedly. "Let's keep ourselves firmly planted in reality, shall we? I'm sleeping with your father so he'll let me stay here in his club. What else would you call me?"

Jase raises his eyebrows. "I don't know. A girl who had to make some hard decisions to protect herself?"

I shrug, shivering. "That's a much nicer way of saying it," I concede.

"Here." Jase shrugs out of his long-sleeved leather jacket and puts it around my shoulders. I can't help but notice that the jacket is plain, devoid of any patches or club insignia. That must piss Dornan right off.

"Thanks," I say, a thrill coursing through me as his fingertips brush my shoulder.

I am amazed. Even after six years, even with him oblivious to who I actually am, there is a chemistry between us that cracks and fizzes like the storm that rages all around us.

"Take a seat," Jase says, pulling out a couple of upended milk crates. He sits on one and produces a half-empty bag of pretzels to go with the bottle of Jack at his feet. He munches on a pretzel before offering me the bag.