Read Online Slay (Storm MC #4) by Nina Levine - Free Book Online

cleanse the bad memories from my mind as easily as the sweat from my body.  Why the hell didn’t killing Bullet give me fucking peace ?  ‘Cause it sure as fuck hadn’t. 
    The night gave way to day as I dealt with my emails, phone calls, and meetings with Merrick and my boys.  There was nothing out of the ordinary today.  Three o’clock rolled around, and exhaustion called my name. But as I stepped through the front door of Layla’s bar, I felt pumped.  The dual thoughts of seeing her and kicking someone’s ass if they needed it fuelled my newfound energy.
    Thursday afternoon seemed to be a quiet time.  There were only ten customers by my count.  I slowed my approach as I made my way to where Layla stood at the bar.  Her ass was on full display while she bent over picking something up from the floor.  Fuck, her curves were sexy.   My gaze stayed glued to them until she retrieved whatever she was after and straightened.  She spun around on the spot and caught me staring at her.
    “Fuck, do you always creep up on people like that?” she asked, her hand going to her chest and her eyes wide.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” I apologised.
    She calmed herself down and waved my apology away.  “No, it’s all good, I was in my own little world and then heard you. You didn’t frighten me, just made me jump a little.”
    I followed her to the end of the bar where she had her bag.  “You ready?”  I watched her rummage through it like a madwoman.  What the hell women kept in their bags was beyond me.
    “Yeah, just gotta tell the girls I’m going out.  I’ll be right back.”  She slung her bag over her shoulder and ducked out of sight through a doorway.
    Within a couple of minutes she was back, and I followed her outside.  She came to a stop and I realised she needed to know which car belonged to me.
    “The black Jag,” I said, pointing towards it.
    She dropped her head slightly and raised her brows at me.  “I probably could have worked out which car it was without the colour.”
    I scanned the street.  She had a point; there were no other Jags to be seen.  I ignored her statement, though, and opened the door for her.  This earned me another eyebrow raise.  “What?” I asked.
    She slid into the seat before looking up at me.  “It’s not often a man opens the door for a woman anymore.”
    “There should be more of it,” I said.
    “I agree.”
    Once she had her seatbelt on, I closed her door and walked around to my side.  I had no idea where we were going today, but I hoped it wasn’t close by.  The more time alone with her, the better, as far as I was concerned.
    A couple of minutes later, I pulled away from the kerb, and we were silent until she said, “I always wondered why people would spend so much on a car.  Still don’t really get it, but this is pretty damn comfortable.”
    I found her honesty refreshing.  Glancing at her, I asked, “Did you grow up with money?”
    “Yes.”
    “But they didn’t spend it on cars?”
    “They did.  They had so much money and bought anything and everything they wanted or thought I wanted.”  She paused before adding softly, “We were the most miserable people you could ever meet.  Money did that to us.”
    “And that’s why you wonder why people spend so much on cars.”
    “Bingo.  If my parents had spent their time like they spent their money, happy would have been my middle name.”  She shifted in her seat, and I glanced across to see her looking at me.  “How about you, Donovan?  Did you have money growing up?”
    “No.  My mother worked her ass off just to give me the basics, let alone anything else.”
    “So, it was just you and your mother?”
    “Yeah.” 
    “And your Dad?  Where was he?”
    Usually, I hated being pushed to talk about Marcus, so it stunned the hell out of me when I found myself answering her question.  “Marcus was married to another woman and had another family.  He visited us