The Storm (The Storm #4) by Samantha Towle Page A

of gin. Unscrewing the cap, I put the pills in my mouth and take a long drink of gin, swallowing them down.
    I place the bottle back on the dresser and just stare out the window, running a hand through my hair.
    I need to go to Queens, now.
    Getting my phone, I check the times for a direct flight from LAX to JFK. There’s a red-eye going out in a few hours.
    Perfect.
    Leaving my bedroom, I jog downstairs. I grab my jacket off the coat hook and my wallet and car keys off the hallway stand. Leaving my house, I lock up and head for my car parked in the driveway.
    Unlocking my car, I climb in and fire her up. The headlights automatically come on in the dark. I shift the car into drive and open my security gate with the remote I keep in my car. As I pull out onto the deserted road, the gate starts to close behind me.
    I press my foot on the gas, propelling me forward.
    Speed—one of the things I love.
    The rush of adrenaline it brings does it for me.
    But if this kid is mine— he’s mine —then I’m going to have to change things, especially the way I live.
    The drugs have to go. The drinking has to stop.
    I’ll get clean.
    Go into rehab if I have to. Do whatever is necessary.
    I feel a rush of excitement, something I never thought I could feel at the thought of having a child.
    Johnny Cash’s “You Are My Sunshine” comes on the radio. Turning it up loud, I hum along, my fingers tapping on the wheel.
    This is it. Right here, my life is going to change. I’m going to change everything for him.
    Storm is my reason to be a better man.
    God, Mom and Dad are going to be so excited when they find out they have a grandson.
    I bring my cell to life, looking at Storm’s picture again. I rest my cell on the top of the steering wheel, staring at him.
    Screw not calling Jake.
    I’m on my way to the airport. It’s not like he can stop me anyway. I have to talk to him about this. I need to tell someone, and he’s always the first person I want to tell the good stuff to.
    Clicking off Storm’s picture, I bring up Jake’s number. I’m just about to hit dial when I see a flash of something up ahead in my peripheral vision.
    A dog.
    Fuck.
    It all happens so quickly. Hitting my breaks, I swerve to miss the dog. My tires lock up and I clip the curb. My car spins out, hitting the barrier, and I go straight through.
    Fuck no.
    The car feels like it’s flying.
    Then, down.
    Down.
    And I know this is it.
    I’m going to die.
    I’m going to fucking die.
    I’ll never get to meet my son.
    I never got to tell Jake or my folks about him.
    I never got to meet my son.
    A tear rolls down my face as I watch the ground coming fast toward me.
    I shut my eyes—

When I finished writing Taming the Storm , I knew I wasn’t ready to let go of the Storm gang, especially Jake, but I wasn’t sure why. I always knew there was something missing, this loose thread that needed tying up, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. Then, I realized that thread was Jonny. Jonny was pivotal to The Mighty Storm. Woven throughout all the Storm books, from the very beginning, he was there with Jake, Tom, and Denny—not in body but in mind and spirit. This story was my chance— Jonny’s chance—to tell his story. This book might have been Jake’s, but it was Jonny’s, too. And Jonny’s ending might not have been the HEA that you’re used to from me, but it was one that I needed to tell—that Jonny and Jake needed to tell—so please don’t yell at me for the tears!
    While I’m here, I want to say thank you to all you Storm and Jake fans out there. Without you, none of this would have been possible. Your love for Jake and Tru has and continues to be awe-inspiring.
    My amazing and patient husband—You always support me, always listen to me, never judge me. I love you.
    And my children—Thank you for simply being you .
    I have to say, the soccer conversation between Jake and JJ in the book comes from many similar conversations I’ve had with my