Finding Storm Read online

  Jonny knew …

  He knew about me.

  He was coming to see me.

  The smile in Jasper’s eyes turns to a smirk on his lips. “But, by the look on your face right now, I’m guessing you didn’t know, did you? You had no idea that he knew of your existence. No clue that your father, one of the greatest musicians to have ever lived, died that night because he was coming to meet you.”

  The dirty bomb that was just dropped in front of me has fired off shrapnel straight into my chest.

  I can’t breathe.

  Jonny knew.

  He knew.

  He was on his way to see me.

  He died, coming to see me.

  “Storm, do you have anything you’d like to say in response?”

  Jasper’s voice flickers me back to life. I drag my eyes up to his.

  The smirk in them makes me want to wipe it off his face.

  My hand twitches at my side.

  My heart is pounding against my ribs. Adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mouth dry as fuck.

  Standing, I shove my chair back, and it falls to the floor with a clatter.

  I’m well aware of the silence that hits the restaurant, but I ignore it. Ignore everyone but the little prick across the table from me.

  I grab my wallet from my pocket, pull some bills out, and toss them on the table.

  “You’re talking shit. And this interview is over.”

  Jasper stands, pushing his chair back. “I can assure you, I’m not. Everything I said is the truth.”

  “You’re a fucking liar.” I point a finger at him before I start to walk away.

  My legs feel rubbery. I honestly don’t know if they’ll get me out of here.

  “If you don’t believe me, ask Jake.”

  That stops me dead.

  “Or Tom, Denny … Tru.” His words hit my frozen back.

  They knew?

  Slowly, I turn to face him.

  “They all know the truth. Marie told Jake years ago. When you first moved to LA. They’ve known for all this time, and they’ve never bothered to tell you. Left you thinking that Jonny never knew about you. Never cared. A whole decade of lies. Makes you wonder why they’ve never said anything to you, doesn’t it? Makes you wonder what else they haven’t told you.”

  I pin him with a stare. “You know fuck all.”

  “Actually, I know a lot. More than you, clearly.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The prick actually has the audacity to laugh.

  I need to get the fuck out of here. As I move my stare away from him, my eyes catch on his phone sitting on the table.

  The phone that has been recording this whole conversation.

  My life on tape for the world to hear.

  Whether what he’s saying about Jonny is true or not, it’ll make for one hell of a story.

  My life up for debate again.

  I can see the fucking headlines now.

  Jonny Creed died because of his illegitimate son, Storm Slater.

  It’s irrational. But people aren’t rational. Mob mentality rules.

  I’ll be crucified in the press and by social media, depending on the way the story is swung.

  Jesus.

  I don’t want this to be true.

  The people I call family. People I love and admire, keeping the truth from me.

  The thought makes me feel sick.

  But something deep in my gut tells me that Jasper’s not lying. He’s a cunt, but he’s telling the truth.

  Jonny knew about me. He got in his car and drove it straight into a ravine, coming to see me.

  And this fucker is going to print the story for all the world to see.

  And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Unless …

  For a big man, I can move fast.

  I lunge forward and swipe his cell off the table before he even gets a chance to move. I drop it on the floor and stamp my boot on it, crushing it. The crack of glass beneath my foot is satisfying as fuck.

  “You’ll pay me for that.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. I grab some more bills out of my wallet and throw them in his face. “This should cover it.”

  The money flutters to the floor. He makes no attempt to get it.

  I watch as he puts his hand in his pants pocket and pulls out a small recording device. Holding it up, he curls his fingers around it. And my brief, momentary sense of relief is gone.

  “I always have a backup.” The smug cunt shrugs. “I enjoyed our chat today, Storm. I’ll send the finished article over before it’s published.”

  Motherfucker.

  I grind my teeth so hard that I’m surprised I don’t crack a tooth.

  He walks around the table, coming toward me.

  He’s got some balls; I’ll give him that.

  I clench my hands at my sides.

  Jasper stops directly in front of me.

  I stare down at him. He’s sweating. He’s not as calm as he likes to make out he is.

  “Jonny died in his prime,” he says in a low voice. “Twenty-five years old, and he was already a musical genius. Just think what the music industry would’ve been like if he’d lived. He died because of you. You deprived the world of what could have been. And what were we left with? A once-great band that could never recover the loss of its main talent. And your shitty attempt at playing dress-up with your lame excuse for a band. You’re a fucking insult to Jonny’s memory.”

  My hand snaps out before I can stop it, and I grab the fucker by the throat, lifting him up onto his toes. I lean my face into his. “You sure have a hard-on for Jonny.”

  I hear someone shout something, but I ignore them.

  My sole focus is on this prick.

  “Nothing to say now, fucker? Or have you run out of shit to talk?”

  I flex my fingers around his neck, applying more pressure.

  “Nah,” he croaks out, face red. “I just knew how to push your buttons. So predictable. Smile for the cameras, Storm.”

  Stone sinks into my stomach.

  I don’t even bother to look up.

  A fucking setup. How could I have been so stupid?

  This was about money.

  Of course it was about money.

  He wound me up to get me to react, and I played right into his hands.

  I push him away from me, not even enjoying the satisfaction of hearing him hit the floor.

  I push past the people who have gathered around to watch the show.

  And I’m well aware of how many fucking phones are held up, recording this, even still now.

  “My lawyer will be in touch!” Jasper calls after me as I weave my way through the restaurant. “Oh, and I wasn’t lying about Jonny and why he was in his car that night! Just ask Jake!”

  I slam out of the restaurant and get straight in my car.

  I don’t even bother putting on my seat belt before I’m pulling out into traffic, cutting cars up to get in the lane I need to be in.

  I ignore the sounds of car horns blaring.

  Ignore everything.

  The thoughts swirling around my brain.

  The crushing pain in my chest.

  Because I’m focused on one thing only.

  And that’s the direction I’m heading in.

  Straight to TMS Records.

  I’m on autopilot when I pull up outside the building that houses TMS Records.

  A place I love.

  I wonder if I’ll love it the same after this.

  I leave my car in a no-parking zone outside the entrance.

  I don’t plan on staying here long. And if I get a ticket, so what?

  Exiting my car, I lock it and stride up to the door. I push my way into the building. I barely even feel the cool of the AC hitting me. I’m running off pure anger.

  I walk past security, barely acknowledging them, and go straight to the reception desk.

  “Storm, hey.” Patty, one of the receptionists, smiles at me, and
then her brow furrows when she sees my expression. I must look like thunder. “You okay?”

  Patty’s worked here forever. She’s part of the TMS family.

  Wonder if Jake’s lied to her too.

  Not in the mood to answer, I just ask, “Is Jake here?” I can hear how stony my voice is.

  If he isn’t, I’ll go wherever he is. I’m not sitting on this.

  I want answers.

  Patty gives me a concerned look and reaches for her desk phone. “He’s here. Not sure where though. Let me call up to his office and check.”

  I wait a moment, my muscles locked up tight, rage swirling around my brain, while she speaks on the phone.

  She puts the receiver back in the cradle. “He’s in studio four.”

  I’m moving, heading for the stairs to take me up to the first floor, where Jake is.

  I take the steps two at a time.

  I turn left, ignoring everyone I pass, focused on my destination.

  I stop outside the door. I can see Jake through the glass window on the door.

  He’s in the booth.

  Tom and Denny are here too, sitting at the mixing desk with Noel, one of the producers.

  Now that I’m here, I’m frozen, unable to go in.

  I stare at the three of them through the glass.

  I thought they were my family.

  I trusted them.

  They’ve been lying to me for years.

  The betrayal cuts deep.

  As if sensing I’m here, Jake’s eyes flicker up to mine. Whatever he sees on my face has him stopping singing.

  He speaks. Saying something to Tom and Denny through the mike because they both turn around to look at me.

  The hurt and humiliation of what happened in the restaurant flares back up, and I shove the door open. So forcefully that it bounces off the drywall.

  “Storm?”

  That’s Denny. He sounds worried. He should be.

  “Take ten, Noel,” Tom says.

  Noel looks at Tom and then me. Nods and leaves. I move a fraction to let him pass me in the doorway.

  Jake walks into the room, and then it’s just the four of us.

  One big, happy fucking family.

  “What’s going on?” Jake looks from me to Tom to Den and back to me again. “What’s happened?”

  I note the concern in his voice, and I don’t care.

  My heart is pounding. My fists clenched at my sides.

  My anger is palpable.

  “Storm?” Tom sounds annoyed now.

  That pisses me off further.

  “I know,” I grind out.

  “What?” Denny sounds confused. So much so that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so fucking bad.

  “Jonny. I know.”

  And that’s all I have to say.

  Like the dirty bomb that was dropped on me less than thirty minutes ago, I drop it right back on them.

  It ricochets around the room, an explosion of silence.

  And if there was any doubt in my mind that it wasn’t true, I know for sure now that it is.

  “Who told you?”

  That’s Jake. I’ve never heard him speak so quietly before.

  My eyes laser onto him. “Does it matter?” I snap.

  “It wasn’t—” Jake takes a step toward me.

  “Don’t”—I point a finger at him—“fucking come near me.”

  He stops. He looks contrite. Guilty.

  I hate him in this moment.

  And Tom.

  And Denny.

  I hate all of them.

  Mostly, I hate myself for being so fucking stupid.

  “We should have told you,” Tom speaks quietly, a voice I’ve never heard him use before. “You shouldn’t have heard it from anyone else. That’s on us. We fucked up.”

  I laugh. With zero humor. “How very fucking gracious of you.”

  “Storm …” Den says low and with warning. He always did have that parental tone down pat.

  I slice my eyes to him. “Fuck you. I’m not a kid anymore. So, don’t talk to me like one.”

  “Storm, just listen …”

  My eyes whip to Jake. “Why the fuck should I? I was supposed to be able to trust you. You were supposed to be my family—”

  “We are your family,” Tom cuts me off, sounding pissed.

  And that’s like a hot poker to my rage.

  “Like hell you are!” I roar. “Families don’t fucking lie to each other! Keep important secrets from each other, like how Jonny knew I existed! That he was coming for me that night!” Grief catches in my throat. And I get annoyed that I’m fucking moments away from breaking down.

  I suck in a harsh breath.

  “Families don’t keep important shit from each other, so you don’t get to call yourselves that anymore.”

  “Storm, it wasn’t … you were just a kid … when I found out the truth, your mom had just died, and I didn’t want—”

  “Fine,” I cut Jake off. “You didn’t want to tell me while I was going through shit. I get that. What about all the years after?”

  The silence is deafening.

  Jake’s eyes sweep the ground before coming back to mine. He sighs, dragging a hand through his black hair. “There … was just never a right time.”

  I laugh a hollow sound. “Never a right time? Funny that. Because I was with you every fucking day! All of you! And not once did one of you think to say, Oh, Storm, just so you know, the guy who knocked your mom up—you know, the guy you thought didn’t know you existed—well, actually, he did! And he died, coming to see you!” I’m yelling now, and I don’t care.

  “We fucked up. Okay?” Tom says quietly.

  I round on him. “No! It’s not fucking okay! And to hear it from a fucking journalist …” My hands go to my hips, and I look at the floor for a moment, gulping in some air.

  I feel like my head’s going to explode. I just can’t believe this. Any of it.

  They were like dads to me.

  Jake actually adopted me, for fuck’s sake.

  I was supposed to be able to count on them. I thought I could trust them. Over anyone else in this shitty fucking world, I thought they had my back.

  What a joke.

  Slowly, I lift my head. “Would any of you have ever told me the truth?”

  The silence in the room and the guilt in their eyes answer my question.

  A laugh of disappointment escapes me. Lifting my hands, I say, “I’m done.” I walk out of the studio.

  They chase me out into the hall. Which is surprisingly empty. I’m guessing everyone heard us arguing. But then I wasn’t exactly being quiet.

  And at this point, it’s the least of my fucking concerns.

  “Storm, wait!” Jake calls after me.

  A second later, his hand lands on my shoulder. I shove his hand off, rounding on him.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” I grind out.

  He lifts his hands up in surrender. “Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t back off either.

  He stands there right in front of me, staring me in the face.

  “I screwed up. This is on me. Marie told me the day of your mom’s funeral. She told me.” He bangs a hand to his chest. “No one else.”

  “Jake, we all knew. This wasn’t just you …” Denny steps forward, moving closer to him.

  Jake lifts his hand, stopping him. “They only knew because I told them. It was me who said we shouldn’t tell you. I also asked them not to. This is on me. Not them.”

  I know what he’s doing—trying to take full blame. But it won’t wash with me.

  They were all Jonny’s friends. All three of them.

  They all knew.

  They’re all culpable.

  “Who else knows?” I ask in a lowered voice.

  “Lyla. Smith. Stuart,” Tom is the first to say, naming his wife, the guitarist who took Jonny’s place in the band after he died, and Jake’s assistant.

  “Simone,” Denny adds, naming his wife.<
br />
  And the betrayal just keeps cutting deeper.

  “So, basically, everyone but me,” I bite.

  I love all of those people. And they all knew.

  I stare at Jake. “Does Tru know?” my voice whispers down the hallway.

  I already know the answer to this question. He wouldn’t keep this from her. He doesn’t keep anything from her.

  But a stupid part of me is hoping Tru doesn’t know. Because I don’t want to have to be mad at her too. She matters as much as these three standing before me. She adopted me. Loved me. Held me when I cried after losing my mom.

  Jake stares at me for what feels like forever. Then, he nods once.

  Pain lances across my chest.

  “But don’t blame Tru,” he’s quick to say. “Like I said before, this is on me. She wanted to tell you. I wouldn’t let her.”

  I stare at Jake.

  The pain and anger and hurt are coursing through me. I can’t feel anything but that.

  I shut it all down, numbing myself to it. No longer allowing myself to feel anything.

  When you’ve been hurt over the years, you get used to protecting yourself.

  “I don’t blame her. Or the others.” My voice is arctic.

  My eyes move over Tom and Denny and then rest on Jake.

  “I blame the three of you. You were Jonny’s family. You were my family.” I let out a cold laugh. “And as of right now, we’re done.” I let my eyes flash over them all again, so they know that I’m serious. That I mean this. That I blame them all equally. “As far as I’m concerned, the three of you are as dead to me as Jonny is.”

  I don’t miss the way they flinch.

  And I don’t fucking care either.

  I turn on my heel and stride down the hall, getting the fuck out of there, ignoring the sound of them all calling my name.

  I jog out of the building, shoving past some people coming in, ignoring their grunts of annoyance.

  I don’t care about anything but getting as far away from here as possible.

  Anger is like my life force at the moment. It’s what’s keeping me going.

  I’m at my car in seconds. Spotting a ticket on my windshield, I grab it and toss it onto the passenger seat as I get in my car.