Southern Storm Read online Natasha Madison (Southern #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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The dark of the night eventually turns an amber color when the sun comes up. I don’t know how long we stand here, but when I see Blake coming my way, the look of devastation and tiredness is all over his face. Smudges of black soot are on his face. “I’m so sorry, Savannah.” I can’t say anything. I just look at the pile of rumble that is left. “We tried to save it.”

“I know,” I say, my heart broken. “It’s not your fault.”

“We are going to go through it later when all the fire is out and get you a report as soon as we can,” he says with his helmet under his arm.

“What do you think it could be?” Jacob asks, and he looks down.

“It can be a whole list of things.” He tries to be as diplomatic as he can be. “Let’s not speculate.”

He turns and walks back to his team as they all look at me.

“We all know that this was intentional.” My voice comes out clear as day. “Right before you called, I got a call.” I turn in Beau’s arms, but he doesn’t let me go. Instead, his arms move lower, and he holds me around my waist now. “From an unknown caller. I thought it was another crank call, but this time, he spoke. Told me I needed to be gone.”

“Who did?” Jacob asks while I shrug.

“His voice was muffled, but it was a male,” I tell them, looking back at the bar. “Guess they made sure I would get gone.”

“We should get you home,” Beau says. “Ethan is worried sick about you.”

I go through the movements of walking away from the bar. I get in the car, looking out the window the whole time. “I shouldn’t have threatened him,” I say. “You shouldn’t have gone over there.”

“If this is my father’s doing,” Beau says, “he’s going to pay for it.”

I laugh bitterly. “He’s never paid for a single fucking thing he’s done in his whole life.” I shake my head. “Last year, Herman,” I mention the guy who owned the gas station, “he disagreed with your father at a town hall meeting. He wanted to see the budget because he didn’t understand a couple of things. Two weeks later, he was out of business. No suppliers would sell anything to him. He tried to keep it going, but when you can’t get gas there, it kind of defeats the purpose of having a gas station.”

“What?” he asks, shocked.

“You really didn’t know?” I look over at him. “Like at all?” He just shakes his head. “Dude,” I say, looking down at my hands and seeing they are almost black from the ashes.

We pull up, and as soon as we shut off the truck, the front door is thrown open, and Ethan comes down running, tears streaked down his face. “What the fuck am I doing all this for?” I mumble as I get out of the truck and catch him in my arms.

“Mom.” I pick him up now, something that he’s stopped making me do since he’s ‘a growing boy’.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, buddy,” I say and walk toward the door where Kallie stands.

“I couldn’t get him back to bed. He just kept asking questions,” she says, and I smile at her. “Ethan, why don’t we cook a huge breakfast for everyone while your mom and Beau go and shower?”

I look over and see that Beau has ashes all in his hair and streaks of it on his face, too. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, and I lie, nodding my head. “Can we make pancakes?” Ethan turns to ask Kallie, who would give this kid the whole world if he asked for it.

“That sounds good,” she says and holds out her hand for him. He squirms out of my arms, then walks up the steps and into the house with Kallie.

I turn, sitting on the steps. “It dawned on me that I only opened that bar to show people I could do it,” I tell Beau who stands in front of me. “I wanted the people who spoke of me with disdain to look at me and say wow, she’s doing it or, better yet, look at how far she’s come.”

“We’ll rebuild it,” he says without missing a beat.

“I used to go into the bar, and I wasn’t Savannah the home wrecker or Savannah the one who had a child out of wedlock or ever Savannah ‘that one.’ I was Savannah, owner. No one felt sorry for that Savannah, and no one said a bad word about that Savannah. I was everyone’s best friend when I was pouring them a drink. They joked with me and told me secrets. It was as if I was never that first Savannah.”

“You are the bravest woman I know,” he says, squatting down in front of me and grabbing my hands to bring them to his lips. I take one of my hands and put it on his cheek.



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