When the Storm Ends: The Tempest Series, #1

By Kate Kinsley

When the storm ends, there's a calm in the air that shows you everything is going to be all right. 

But nothing may ever be right again. 

Delani Delvecchio has weathered storm after storm throughout her life, but this one may have the potential to break her. After what is supposed to be an anniversary celebration with her friends and boyfriend, Delani gets pulled into her own personal hell. 

Taken. Beaten. Tormented. 

Delani fights and makes it out, only to realize she's not safe at home—she's no longer safe in New York at all. With an untraceable phone, clothes that aren't her own, and enough money to get her by, she gets on a train and heads to the last place she felt she would be looked for. 

What she didn't expect to find when she got there was him. 

Cocky. Charismatic. Safe. 

Brody Russell, small town cop, quickly becomes the calm during Delani's storm. 

His presence makes her forget and his southern charm works its way into her heart. 

Brody promises to protect her, to be right by her side when the storm ends. 

But what if this storm is only the beginning?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Kinsley
• Release date: Aug 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386640349

Book preview

Don’t judge yourself by what others did to you.

C. Kennedy, Omorphi

1

Three months earlier…

D elani, hurry up! We’re gonna be late.

Be right there, I call down to Taryn, my best friend since middle school, who’s waiting impatiently downstairs. Gazing in the mirror, I brush my brunette hair off my shoulders. I check my makeup again, making sure my emerald green eyes are done to perfection. Smacking my lips together, I even out my ruby red lipstick. Turning to the side, I smooth out my little black dress that’s hugging my hips, showing off my perfect figure. My flawless skin glowing, I’m ready to party like a rock star. Tonight, I’m celebrating my one year anniversary with Cole. Thoroughly satisfied, I bound down the stairs to my awaiting bestie.

It’s about time, prima donna. Christ, you’re worse than a Kardashian.

Look who’s talking. You were supposed to be here an hour ago, I say, rummaging through my purse for my iPhone.

Hey, it wasn’t my fault! My manicure appointment ran late. It was worth it, though. See how fantastic they look. She wiggles her fingers in my face and I glance up at her glistening nails.

Yes, they’re great, I murmur before returning my attention back to my bag. Where the fuck is my phone?

It’s right here, she says, waving it in the air. You need a tracker on this thing.

I grab it from her, shove it in my purse, and scoop my keys off the hall table before strolling toward the door. Can we go now? It’s been a shitty day and I really need a drink.

Yeah, all that shopping you did must have exhausted you, she laughs, sarcasm dripping in her tone.

I narrow my eyes at her in a death glare and she raises a brow, daring me to prove her wrong. She’s not, of course, and my only comeback is, Fuck you, with a smile.

Charles is waiting outside, she says as we exit my Manhattan brownstone and walk down the steps to the awaiting town car.

Charles, her personal driver, opens the door with a smile and a nod. What are you ladies up to this evening?

We’re meeting the guys at Avenue, over on Tenth Avenue and West Seventeenth Street, Taryn says, ducking her head as she enters the Lincoln.

On a Monday?

It’s the hottest club in Manhattan on Mondays, I answer with a smirk as I scoot across the leather seat next to her. Charles shakes his head and lets out a chuckle before closing the door behind us.

I wonder if Leo will be there tonight, Taryn giggles.

We never see anyone famous, I protest. We’ve been going there for almost a year and I’ve only seen Macklemore.

I thought I saw Paris Hilton last week, she argues, checking her makeup through the camera in her phone.

That wasn’t Paris.

Whatever. Rumor has it Leo will be there tonight.

What is your obsession with Leonardo DiCaprio? I ask, checking my phone for messages. Shit, two missed texts.

What’s not to love? He’s fucking hot.

You’re obsessed, I joke, scrolling through my messages.

I’d totally ruin my body to have his kids.

Ignoring her, I mutter, The boys want to know why we’re not there yet.

Good Lord, tell Cole not to get his panties in a bunch. We’ll be there when we get there.

You’d think they’d be used to us being late, I say, hitting send.

Me: On r way, chill!

Are we almost there? Taryn asks Charles, her attention still on the camera.

A few more blocks, he shouts over the music, weaving through the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Taryn fluffs her wavy, blonde hair before narrowing her eyes and pulling her phone closer. Do my eyes look too dark? she asks, blinking a few times and flashing her baby blues.

For the millionth time, no. You always look fabulous, I insist.

I just want to be sure, she moans.

Charles pulls up in front of the club and we take in the desperate partygoers begging for the bouncer to let them in. There’s always a crowd stretching an entire block any day of the week and tonight is no exception. He jumps from the driver’s side and moves around toward the sidewalk, helping us out of the car.

Text me when you’re ready to go, Charles says as we shuffle out and straighten our dresses. As Charles pulls away, I give a wave to Marcus, our favorite bouncer, who’s positioned between the door and the street. With a subtle nod and a smile, he unhooks the red velvet rope holding back the wannabes and posers. Making our way through the tightly packed bodies, we slide through the small entrance he’s made for us. I place a quick kiss on his cheek and step past him. Taryn and I enter the club as the mob of scantily-clad girls scream behind us.

We enter the nightclub unscathed. The dark wood-paneled walls reflect the bright purple lighting, making everyone and everything appear violet. A giant blue spotlight swoops across the mass of bodies moving in rhythm to the beat. If you stand still long enough, the base vibrates through the floor and into your shoes. Not wanting to become trapped by the entrance, Taryn and I sashay our way across the overflowing dance floor to the stairway leading to the VIP seating area. We crest the top of the stairs, finding Cole and Dominic seated on one of the brown leather couches. Dominic and I have been friends for years, even before Taryn and I. I set him up with Taryn a couple years ago and they are the perfect couple. After I met Cole, we started going out on double dates and Dominic and Cole became fast friends, to my and Taryn’s pleasure.

As soon as Cole sees me, he stands, pulling me into an embrace. Happy anniversary, Delani.

Happy anniversary, I say, kissing him on the cheek. He sits back on the couch and pats the spot next to him while Taryn moves toward Dominic.

Oooh, you guys ordered champagne, I hum, pointing to the wine chiller and glasses surrounding it.

Only the best for my girl, Cole says before reaching for the Dom. He fills all four glasses and passes them around.

Here’s to another great year, he toasts, his glass high in the air.

I’m not sure you can top this one, Taryn says, and she’s right. This year has been fantastic.

The day I met Cole, my girlfriends and I had gone out to a club for Taryn’s twenty-fifth birthday. We were ordering drinks from the bar when I first noticed him. He was with a bunch of guys, admiring me from the other side of the bar. He stood tall, but not towering over his friends. His dark hair flopped over his forehead in an adorable way. But his eyes—they were intense and unwavering. It didn’t matter where I walked, his gaze followed me everywhere.

Tired of the ogling, I walked up to him and asked why he was staring. His answer couldn’t have been more ridiculous. My boys over there bet I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the room. Want to buy some drinks with their money? It was, by far, the worst pickup line I’d ever heard, and I burst out laughing. As he laughed along with me, I got a good look at his eyes. They reminded me of a warm latte and a ring of gold hung inside his irises, adding another layer of depth. We got to talking, I gave him my number, and we’ve been together ever since.

Cole swings my legs over his and runs his fingers over my thigh, giving me a naughty grin. I gasp at the sensation as he moves higher before batting him away with a smile. His brazenness is so out of character—especially in a public place.

I want to go downstairs and dance, Taryn says to Dominic, her eyes never leaving the pulsating bodies on the floor.

Sure, baby. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. With a wink, Dominic escorts Taryn down the stairs and I give them a small finger wave.

How was your day? Cole asks, nuzzling my neck.

Good. I nudge him back. What’s with you today? I ask, glancing around us as my hackles start to rise. Anyone could be watching and the thought makes me shudder.

Nothing. I’m just happy to see you. He smiles at me, a little lopsided, his eyes glassy and dilated. He caresses up my leg again, moving toward the apex of my thighs, misreading my reaction.

Stop! We’re in public, I hiss, shoving him away for the second time.

No one’s watching, he whispers. C’mon. It’s our anniversary.

I’m not doing this here, I insist, feeling more exposed than I’m comfortable with. I start to stand when three men approach us from the other side of the room and Cole tenses underneath me before pulling me back down.

Cole, fancy seeing you here, a man with dark amber eyes in a three-piece designer suit says. He smiles, but it isn’t a kind. It looks menacing, even though his hard features and the five o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks and jaw are attractive. I find myself staring and look away, my gaze brushing over the other two men in similar suits.

Armond, nice to see you, Cole says, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone.

This must be the elusive Delani, the man says with a wicked grin, turning his attention to me. He has an accent, Spanish or Italian maybe. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. His sardonic smile gives me chills, and I don’t like his patronizing attitude, but it’s his eyes that give me pause. They’re dark and threatening, and remind me of death.

He-hello, I stutter in a whisper. I swing my legs off Cole and sit up straight on the couch. Cole puts his arm across my shoulders, pulling me close.

What do you want? Cole snaps, instantly going from semi-pleasant to arctic.

We just came by to say hello, another man with the same accent answers.

Forgive me, I’m being rude, Armond says, waving his arm behind him. Delani, this is Tomas and Emmanuel. Cole’s grip tightens on my shoulder and I flinch at the bruising touch.

Hi, I squeak, trying to wiggle from Cole’s grasp.

Can we talk for a minute? Armond asks.

Delani and I are celebrating, can it wait? Cole asks through gritted teeth.

No.

Fine, Cole sighs before turning to me, his eyes pleading. Baby, can you go downstairs and find Taryn? I’ll come down when I’m done. His voice remains steady, but dread creeps into my gut at the slight fear in his gaze. He doesn’t want me here, and I can’t help but think my earlier reaction to these men was right. They aren’t nice people—and they aren’t his friends. Please, he whispers.

Okay, I concede, pushing down the concern and plastering a smile on my face. I don’t want them to see the worry gnawing at my insides. All three men watch with hungry eyes as I stand. Tomas runs his gaze up and down my body, his leering gaze coming to rest on my breasts. A chill creeps up my spine, giving way to goosebumps. I try to suppress a shudder as I wave to them and scurry across the room as fast as I can in three-inch stilettos, feeling overexposed and creeped out. As soon as I reach the stairs, I look back. Cole’s eyes go wide and his face pales as the men surround him.

My heart thunders as I fly down the steps, searching for Dominic and Taryn. I scan the bar and hook a heel on the rung of a stool to look out over the crowded dance floor. After a few moments, I spot them and push my way through the hordes of people, shoving those who are unwilling to move.

Dominic! I scream over the music. Taryn!

After several failed attempts, Dominic turns his head toward my voice, searching for the sound. I wave my hand in the air and his eyes land on mine.

What’s wrong? he shouts, his brow furrowing.

I don’t know. These guys are upstairs talking with Cole and I have a really bad feeling. Can you go up there, please?

Without a second thought, he nods his head and makes his way toward me, fighting through the crowd.

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, are you okay? Taryn asks.

The way they were looking at me when I was walking away…it freaked me out.

Fucking men. They’re all scum.

Yeah, maybe.

C’mon. Let’s go get a drink.

---

Two drinks later, there’s no sign of Cole or Dominic and the gnawing worry in my gut starts to fester. What the hell can they be talking about up there? I ask Taryn, as if she knows.

I don’t know, but I don’t like it either.

They should have been down—

It was a pleasure to meet you, a thick accent murmurs against my ear from behind, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. Armond. My body jerks in response as a chill runs through my veins. I turn toward him and he offers a smile, but it’s sly and malicious. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

Y-You, too, I stutter out, and immediately want to smack myself for showing my nerves. He regards me for a moment before nodding and walking away.

Who the fuck was that? Taryn asks.

One of the guys from upstairs, I mumble, my eyes still on his back until he disappears out of view. C’mon, I say, grabbing her arm and running toward the stairs. We ascend and as I hit the landing, Cole and Dominic come into view. They’re crouching toward each other on the couch, scowls prominent and voices low.

Dominic, what the fuck? Taryn yells across the room. They both look up, startled. As soon as Cole’s eyes land on mine, he studies my face before running them over me, relief clear in his features. What the hell is going on?

I open my mouth to ask just that and Cole lunges toward me, grabbing my wrist. We’re leaving, he growls, dragging me toward the stairs.

What? Leaving? Let go of me. What the hell, Cole? I try to wrestle from his grip, but he holds me fast.

We need to go.

Go where? I ask, planting my feet on the carpet.

Spinning, he says, Home. Your place. Anywhere but here.

Okay, but you don’t need to drag me, I snap. Shaking him off, I follow him out of the club to the valet. I still don’t understand why we have to leave, I mutter, crossing my arms against the slight chill in the air. Though, I’m not sure if it’s the weather or my shot nerves.

Ignoring me, he hands the stub to the valet, who rushes off to get Cole’s car. He glances over at me for a second, a spark of sympathy in his eyes, but then returns to staring into the dark night. Fine, I can ignore him too. There’s no fucking way he’s getting laid tonight, either. Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms and wait.

A few long minutes later, the valet pulls up in Cole’s black Mercedes Maybach and I rush to the passenger side, not waiting for the valet to open the door. Cole shakes his head, but makes no effort to stop me. Tipping the valet, he slides into the driver’s seat and pulls away, tires screeching across the pavement.

We ride in silence the entire way to my brownstone, my arms still folded across my chest and eyes focused on the quilted pattern covering the dashboard. He’s driving like a crazy man, dodging cars through midtown like Mario Andretti, tailgating taxis, then slamming on the brakes to avoid them. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he has a death wish. Something is very wrong and I need to know what it is.

Before I can ask, he pulls up in front of my apartment. Get out, he mutters, not looking at me.

If you think for one minute I’m getting out of this car before you explain what the fuck just happened, you’re crazy. I glare at him, wishing I could read his mind and reveal his secrets.

It has nothing to do with you, so we’re not discussing it, he says, his tone flat and impassive as he stares ahead, his body rigid. Gripping the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms flex.

"Are you fucking kidding me! Whatever doesn’t have to do with me just ruined our anniversary! For Christ’s sake, what is going on!"

Just go. I’ll call you in the morning. There’s something I need to take care of. Clenching his jaw, he grips the steering wheel tighter, his focus never wavering.

Cole—

Will you just fucking go! he shouts, spinning his head so his gaze meets mine. His eyes are wide and full of fear, his lower lip trembling. Panic builds behind his darkening irises and the blood in my veins turns to ice.

Okay, I whisper, I’ll go inside. Promise you’ll call me in the morning?

I will, he says, his voice lower, softer, and the panic in his eyes fades to a simmer. Opening the door, I slide across the smooth leather seat and exit the car.

I love you, he whispers as I close the door.

The second the latch clicks, he pulls away and I’m left standing in front of my apartment, alone. I fish for my keys as I walk up the steps. Slamming the door shut, I throw them in the bowl on the console table. Tonight was supposed to be fun—it was supposed to be happy and all about our one year anniversary—but it took one hell of a wrong turn. Pulling my cell phone out of my purse, I text Taryn.

Me: I’m home. Alone.

Who were those guys and what did they want? Better yet, what had Cole so spooked? Frustrated and refusing to speculate on the whys any longer, I grab a bottle of pinot noir from my wine rack and a bottle opener before walking over to the couch and plopping down. Setting the wine and accessories on the side table, I kick off my shoes and rub my throbbing feet when my phone buzzes.

Taryn: He left you alone? Douche!

Me: I’m about to open a bottle of wine. Dominic say anything?

Taryn: Not a peep. Want me to come over?

Me: Nah, me and Pinot are good.

I toss my phone to the side, open the bottle, and search for something watchable on TV. Once I find something, I pull a blanket off the back of the couch and get comfortable with my glass of wine. Three glasses later, my head on a throw pillow, I doze off.

Pain radiates from my scalp as my body flies through the air, slamming down onto the wood floor. Before I’m fully awake, massive hands scoop me up and toss me against what feels like a brick wall, only to find it’s a person. Panicked, I struggle, but someone is holding me tight. Hello again, Delani. That voice, I know that accent.

Twisting my head to the right, a figure walks out of the darkness. Armond walks into the light, his hand wrapped around the back of Cole’s neck. He shoves Cole where he wants him and cold sweat beads along my clammy skin. Cole is ghost white, the red from the cut above his eye and bloody lip a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin.

Cole? I ask in a shaky, high-pitched whisper, my lungs seizing as fear tightens its deathly grip.

I’m so sorry, Delani, he whispers. Four men surround him, one I recognize from earlier this evening, their eyes fixated on me. They stand in a semi-circle, protecting their boss, and dread creeps into my gut.

You see, Cole owes me money—a lot of money. And he doesn’t have it. Now, what are we going to do about it? Armond’s mouth curves up into a malicious grin, matching the connotation behind his words.

"Cole, what is he