Smokey's Distraction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 15)

by Chiah Wilder

  “Her? This should be fun,” Shadow said.

  “What the fuck does that mean? This is business. Zach told me he sent one of his best people to do the job, and he said the woman’s all business,” Smokey replied.

  “I’m just saying, working with a chick could be fun.” Shadow waved Tania over.

  “Again, she’s a professional. Anyway, I’m not into the prim and proper chicks who wear suits and high-collared blouses,” Smokey said.

  “Whaddaya want, honey?” Tania asked as she came over to the table.

  “Can you make me a roast beef sandwich with cheddar, lettuce, tomato, and mayo?” Shadow replied.

  “Sure. I’ll even put a couple of pickles on the plate ’cause I know how much you like them.” The club girl glanced around the table. “Anyone else want anything?”

  “I’ll have the same as Shadow except no lettuce and cheese,” Animal said.

  “I’ll have a taste of you after you’re done making the sandwiches,” Bones said.

  Tania blew a kiss at him and walked away, her rounded hips swaying with each step. Smokey watched as she disappeared into the kitchen, and his thoughts flashed back to the pretty black-haired woman from the night before. The way her body moved with his during the show felt so good, and she fit perfectly around his arms. There’s no fuckin’ way she wasn’t interested. I don’t know what the hell her problem was.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  Bones’s voice dragged Smokey out of his thoughts and confusion spread across his face. “What?”

  “I was talking to you, bro, but you were a million miles away. I was asking if you wanna have some fun with Tania and Charlotte?” Bones said.

  “Now?”

  Bones rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Fuck, dude, this isn’t that hard to follow.”

  Smokey shook his head. “Not feeling it right now.”

  “Maybe you’d feel it with Melanie. She’s got black hair like that chick you struck out with last night. You can pretend it’s her.” Bones grinned.

  “One more jab about that shit, and I’m gonna kick your ass,” Smokey growled.

  “Here you go, guys.” With her eyes fixed on Smokey’s, Tania bent down real low and put a plate down in front of Shadow, then handed the other one to Animal.

  Smokey had a frontal view of the club girl’s big tits, and once again, the only thing he could think about was the sexy woman from the previous night—the one with the sassy mouth who said no. Smokey stared past Tania as he tried to bring her name to the front of his mind.

  “Marie,” he said.

  The brothers at the table stared at him, and Tania’s eyes widened.

  “I’m Tania, honey. We don’t got a Marie here.”

  Bones pushed his chair back and stood up. “He’s got one on his mind already and his dick does too.” He grabbed the club girl’s hand and yanked her to him. Go get Charlotte and let’s have some fun.”

  Tania nestled close to him. “I can’t wait, baby.”

  “This is good,” Shadow said after swallowing a bite of his sandwich. His compliment fell on deaf ears because Tania and Bones had walked away.

  “I’m pissed it snowed. Those weather assholes said it would be a light accumulation, not eight inches. Shit … I was planning to ride today,” Smokey said.

  “Me too,” Shadow said, and Animal nodded in agreement. “I can’t wait for the summer when we can just let loose.”

  “Yeah. So far this has been the snowiest spring in a few years.” Smokey glanced at his phone: it was three o’clock. “I’m gonna check out one of the construction sites I’m working on. I want to make sure the security guard is there. The last company I hired kept sending me jerks who showed up for an hour and then took off. The club should think about starting a security company.”

  “I don’t think that’d go over so good with most of the residents,” Animal said before taking another bite of his sandwich.

  “We get good money for the occasional gigs like concerts and watching some rich fucks’ backs. I wouldn’t want to haul my ass to a spot and sit there for eight to ten hours.” Shadow wiped his hands with the napkin.

  “We wouldn’t do the guarding—we’d hire people to do it. The best part is that if they screwed up, we’d kick their asses,” Smokey said.

  “We got enough shit going on with the new strip mall, the online poker and sports betting that Hawk set up, and the fuckin’ Rising Order. That asshole Skeet thinks he’s gonna take over Insurgents’ territory.” Animal slammed his fist on the table. “Next church, we need to push to show those fuckers who owns Colorado.”

  “I’m with you, brother.” Smokey bumped fists with Animal and then with Shadow. “You guys solo tonight too? I was thinking to grab some chow at Ruthie’s later.”

  Animal shook his head. “I promised Lucy I’d help with her science project.”

  Smokey chuckled. “I’d think you’d want the kid to pass the class.” Animal held up his middle finger while shaking his head, and Smokey mirrored the gesture.

  “Another time, bro. When do you need me for the remodel job?” Shadow asked.

  “Tuesday’s good.” Smokey rose to his feet. “I’m heading out.” He pointed at Animal. “See you in church this week”—and he tipped his head toward Shadow—“and I’ll see you at nine on Tuesday. I’ll text you the address later on.” He shrugged on his jacket and headed out of the club.

  The snow fell softly and silently, dusting his head and shoulders, and deadening the sound of his footfalls. Smokey slipped into his burgundy SUV and switched on the engine. Nearly all the club members had a cage in addition to their motorcycles, although some of the younger members still rode on icy roads and in snowy conditions. Smokey remembered when it had been inconceivable to him to drive, let alone own a cage. But then, he’d been in his early twenties and had thought he was invincible. After several years in an outlaw club, witnessing mayhem and death, Smokey’s appreciation of the fragility of life had replaced his indestructible attitude, and he bought a cage two years before, when he’d turned twenty-eight.

  He pulled out onto the icy road and headed toward downtown Pinewood Springs. When he reached the town limits, he hung a right and drove through the parking lot of the Colorado Hotel. The historic hotel, built in 1893, was a favorite among tourists who came to the area to partake in many of the outdoor activities or to soak in the therapeutic spring waters that had been bubbling up from the earth’s core for millions of years.

  The fact that Smokey was cruising the lot looking for a black Buick Regal was pretty damn pathetic. If Bones, Animal, Shadow, or any of the brothers got a whiff of what he was doing, he’d never hear the end of it. And even though Smokey knew he was acting like a grade A pussy, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was because in dissing him, the chick had inadvertently challenged him, or maybe she was a breath of fresh air compared to all the women who jumped for him without even a fight. He didn’t have a clue, but all he knew was that he wanted to find her and win her over. And by the way she reacted to him at Blue’s Belly, Smokey had no doubt that with a little effort and a bit more charm, she’d gladly spread her legs.

  Disappointment weaved through him as he looked up and down the rows of parked cars. Two hours later, intense coral pinks, fiery reds, and peachy oranges draped the horizon as Smokey pulled out of the last motel lot in the county. Angry at the hours he wasted in trying to find some chick’s damn vehicle, he took a sharp turn at the next streetlight and headed to the construction site he was supposed to have checked two fucking hours ago.

  When he approached the site, he saw a security car parked by the end of the barbed-wire fence. Smokey drove over to make sure the guard wasn’t snoozing on the job, chatted briefly with him, then turned his cage around and drove to Ruthie’s to grab a bite to eat.

  Smokey thrummed his fingers on the dashboard as he waited for a minivan to back out of a parking space. Normally, he didn’t go to Ruthie’s this early, especially on a Sunday when the diner was
packed with families. Screaming kids and arguing parents didn’t make the best combination for a relaxing meal, but he was already there, so he clenched his teeth and waited as the driver of the vehicle took his damn sweet time exiting the space.

  When Smokey walked inside, several people hovered around the cash register and many more milled in the small waiting area. Children squirmed and cried on parents’ laps while the older ones sulked and stared out the window at the falling snow.

  “Fuck,” Smokey muttered under his breath as he stomped his wet boots on the mat just inside the door. He glanced around and saw Maddie carrying a tray piled high with plates and drinks as she maneuvered around and through the crowd.

  As if sensing someone was watching her, the curly-haired waitress, clad in a pink jumper and white apron, glanced over and locked eyes with him, and a large grin spread across her full face. She nodded and mouthed, “Hang on,” then stopped at a booth with six people crammed into it and set down the tray on a stand.

  Smokey scanned the restaurant: all the tables were full and the counter as well. He rocked back on his heels and peeled off his gloves as he looked over at a table with four little boys and two frazzled parents. Two of the kids were constantly on the verge of knocking over their glasses of milk, and the mom and dad took turns grabbing the precarious beverages and pushing them back toward the middle of the table.

  Watching the family’s interaction reminded Smokey of his own when they’d gone out to eat on the rare occasion. His parents would sit in the middle of the booth, and he and his four brothers would be divided on either side of them. As boys tended to do, they would act up sometimes—nothing serious. His father would give them a cold stare, and in a steady voice would tell them to settle down. His mother never said a word, but that had been par for the course for most of Smokey’s childhood.

  “I told you boys to stop it,” the father with a beaklike nose and small eyes said to his sons. Smokey wondered if the kids would get a beating when they got home, just like he and his brothers always had afterwards.

  “You solo?” Maddie’s voice yanked Smokey out of recollections.

  “Yeah—I forgot about it being so damn crowded in here on Sundays,” Smokey replied.

  “In three hours, this place will be so nice and calm.” Maddie glanced around, shaking her head. “That’s what gets me through this crap.”

  Smokey laughed, then nodded toward the back of the eatery. “Is our booth free?” Ruthie’s was a favorite Insurgents’ hangout, and the last booth in the back of the diner was normally reserved for them.

  “Sorry, it’s taken. You guys hardly ever come in this early on Sundays. I can get you a place at the counter.” She took a step closer to him and whispered, “The guy with the T-shirt pulled tightly over his big belly is just finishing up a slice of banana cream pie. Will that work? It’s the last seat and your back will be to the wall.” Maddie knew the bikers required seating that enabled them to have a full view of the restaurant.

  Smokey nodded. “That’ll work.”

  “I’ll get it fixed up for you,” she said in a low voice before rushing away.

  In less than five minutes, the pot-bellied customer was at the register paying his bill, and Maddie was motioning for Smokey to come over.

  “Why do you get preferential treatment?” someone behind him said.

  Smokey’s jaw tightened as he turned around and squinted at a shaggy-haired guy in baggy pants and a loose-fitting hoodie. “You talking to me?” he said, slightly leaning forward.

  The people standing near the young man quickly scattered away to the corners of the small waiting area. The dude darted his eyes from the dispersing patrons to Smokey then back to the customers.

  “I didn’t hear your answer,” Smokey said in a voice as sharp as a razor blade.

  The early-twentysomething-year-old looked down at the floor and shuffled in place. “I … uh … was here … uh … first.”

  “So?” he growled.

  The guy shrugged. “So nothing.”

  “If you got a problem—tell me and we can deal with it.” Smokey watched the guy shift from one foot to another.

  “Everything okay, honey?” Ruthie asked as she came over to Smokey. The owner looked at the fidgeting man and then back at the biker. “Is he giving you trouble?” she asked Smokey.

  “I’m not causing any trouble,” the young man said.

  “He just needs to learn to think before he talks.” Smokey turned away and slipped an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you. Haven’t been at the diner in a while, have you?”

  “I’m trying to take it easier—doctor’s orders, not mine.” She laughed. “How are you and the other guys? Still breaking women’s hearts and partying too hard?”

  Smokey smiled. “You know it—some things never change.” He squeezed her shoulder, then dropped his arm to his side.

  “I’ll come over and visit with you in a while. One of the cooks called off, so I’m in the kitchen.” Ruthie winked at him, then slipped behind the counter and disappeared into the back to help out with the orders.

  Smokey moseyed over to the counter and settled down on the red vinyl-cushioned chrome stool. Maddie placed a steaming cup of coffee, a small earthenware creamer, and a glass of water in front of him.

  “Do you need a minute?”

  Smokey tipped the creamer over his coffee. “Nope. I’ll have the steak—medium—and eggs.” He picked up his spoon and stirred the coffee.

  Maddie scribbled on a pad. “Fried potatoes or hash browns?”

  “Fried potatoes.”

  “Toast, right?” Maddie looked up and smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  “I know Shadow, Axe, Rock, Rags, and Jerry like English muffins.”

  The corner of Smokey’s mouth turned up. “Do we come in here that often?”

  “You do.” She patted his hand, then tucked her pen and pad into one of the pockets of her apron. “I’ll get your order in,” she said before scurrying away.

  Smokey brought the cup to his lips and briefly inhaled the fresh and strong aroma of roasted beans before taking a sip. The coffee was so hot it smoked, and he relished the warmth as it slid down his throat. A movement by the cashier register caught his eye, and he put the cup down and stared at the back of a woman with long raven hair. For a split second he held his breath, then exhaled when his gaze skimmed over the slender woman. Nope, that’s not her. The woman leaning against the cashier’s stand didn’t have curves that wouldn’t quit, long legs, and a round ass that he wanted to sink his teeth into.

  As if sensing Smokey’s scrutiny, the woman glanced over her shoulder at him, and he quickly looked away and brought the coffee mug to his lips. Not even close. Images from last night when she’d checked him out with those captivating blue eyes—bright and shimmering like a lake on a cloudless day—flashed through his mind. He chuckled softly as he recalled the defiant look in those amazing orbs. Fuck … I would’ve loved to have hooked up with her last night. I still can’t believe she turned me down. Something mustn’t be right with the chick.

  “Here you go,” Maddie said as she put the plate in front of him. “I brought you some hot sauce and ketchup. Can I get you anything else?”

  Smokey shook his head. “You thought of everything—that’s why you’re our favorite.” He winked at the waitress, and as she laughed, a faint blush of pink washed over her cheeks.

  “You’re such a charmer,” Maddie said before turning away.

  Smokey was halfway through his meal when he saw someone approaching him from the corner of his eye. He put down his fork and turned his head, noticing it was Ryan. A rock hard knot formed in the pit of Smokey’s stomach as he took in his younger brother’s appearance: sunken cheeks, glassy eyes, and disheveled hair. Even from where he sat, Smokey could smell the alcohol on Ryan’s breath. Smokey shifted his gaze from his alcoholic brother to the dour face of his mother who stood behind Ryan.

  “How’ve you been?�
� Ryan said as he flung out his arms.

  “Good.” Smokey leaned back a bit as his brother lowered his arms and looked down at the ground. “You?”

  Ryan raised his head and a huge smile spread across his face, deepening the lines around his mouth. “Just great. Real great. I can’t believe I ran into you here. Isn’t this just great, Mom?” He moved to the side and gripped their mother’s arm. “Isn’t it great … real great that we bumped into Daniel?”

  “It’s Smokey—Daniel died a long time ago,” he said.

  Ryan cupped his hand across his mouth and bobbed his head up and down. “Right, I’m sorry—I should remember that. Sorry, dude. I’m real sorry. I should—”

  “Can it, okay?” Ryan only remembered Smokey’s name when he was sober, and from the stench of booze on his breath and the way he was acting, Smokey knew he was drunk.

  “Okay … yeah … okay.” Ryan fumbled with the zipper on his down jacket.

  Smokey averted his gaze from his brother to their mother. She looked older and more bitter than she had the last time he’d seen her. It had been over a year since he’d laid eyes on her. Each time he’d gone over to the house he’d built for her and Ryan, she’d disappear into her bedroom and refuse to come out and talk with him.

  “How’re you doing, Mom?” he asked.

  Tonya Harty’s black eyes squinted. “Fine.” She tugged the sleeve of Ryan’s jacket. “We have to get a table. Come on.” The loose strands from her ponytail swept across the nape of her neck as she spun around and marched toward the front of the diner without a backward glance.

  “She never fuckin’ changes, does she?” Smokey said.

  Ryan shrugged. “You know how she is.”

  He wiped the corners of his mouth with his fingers as he glanced at his mother’s retreating back. “Yeah, I do. She checked out on us when we were kids. Is she eating enough? She looks too skinny.”

  “She eats.” Ryan turned his head toward the front of the diner. “I better get going—she can be a real bitch.”

  Smokey nodded. “With everyone except Dad. She never raised her voice to him even when he was beating the shit outta us. Fuckin’ amazing.”