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

by Chiah Wilder

  Skeet leaned against the brick wall and whistled.

  “The fucker’s calling the dogs,” Chas said hoarsely.

  Smokey’s body grew taut. “We gotta move.”

  Then the signal came—a beep on their phones.

  “It’s party time,” Smokey whispered, dropping low to the ground.

  The men fanned out in a wide circle as they moved toward the club.

  Whistling again, Skeet walked to the edge of the porch, his head turning right and left as he snapped his fingers.

  Coming around the side, Smokey saw Puck and Bones on the opposite end of the lanai. Skeet, seeing him as well, whirled around, rushing toward the door. Smokey jumped over the railing at the same time Puck did, both of them running toward Skeet.

  The ex-Insurgent looked over and yelled, “Fuck!” Pushing through the door, he screamed, “We’re under attack!”

  The loud music drowned out what he was saying, but with him swinging his arms around wildly, the music finally died.

  “They’re—”

  Smokey tackled him from behind, dragging his flaying body back onto the porch as Puck, Bones, Chas, and Tank rushed into the club. From the sound of splitting wood, Smokey guessed that Rock, Throttle, Animal, Jerry, and Wheelie had gained entry from the back.

  “You fuckin’ traitor!” Smokey shouted as he slammed his fist—replete with large, silver skull rings on each finger—into Skeet’s face.

  “Get the fuck off my property!” Skeet yelled back as his steel-toed boot made contact with Smokey’s shin.

  A sudden gush of pain jolted through Smokey’s body, dropping him to the ground. Grabbing Skeet’s foot, he yanked him down as well.

  “You think this piss-ass excuse for a club can wear the Colorado patch?” He punched Skeet in the face. “That’s for disrespecting Banger.”

  The ex-Insurgent tried to fight back, but Smokey was straddling him, pinning his arms down with his knees.

  He landed another blow. “That’s for disrespecting the Insurgents.”

  Skeet groaned, bucking under Smokey’s weight.

  Anger and hate fueled Smokey on. Pulling his arm back, he delivered blow after blow. “And that’s for my brother, Ryan.”

  The weathered wood was stained from the spattering of Skeet’s blood. On the final punch, Smokey heard the familiar crunch as he snapped the traitor’s nose into something grotesque.

  Screams, the thunderous sound of rushing boots, shouting, and gunfire, came from inside the house. Jumping up, Smokey pulled out his Glock 19, ready to enter the house when he saw the headlights of two SUVs rushing toward the house.

  “What the fuck?” he roared.

  In the distance, there was the low wail of sirens—a death toll to outlaw bikers. Axe and Cruiser ran up the porch steps.

  “Rusty and Skinless called us. The fuckin’ badges are comin’,” Axe said.

  “I just told Rock,” Cruiser said.

  “Shit!” Smokey kicked Skeet in the belly and jumped off the porch, just as Rock came through the front door.

  “Everyone, get your asses outta here!” Rock shouted. “The prospects brough two of the SUVs. Let’s go!”

  Smokey ran around back to make sure all his brothers knew what the hell was going on before rushing through the house, Glock in hand. The only ones inside were downed Rising Order members. Seeing a couple of women huddled in the corner, he ignored them and hurried outside, jumping into Puck’s vehicle. They hauled ass away from the clubhouse toward the storage shed to pick up Smokey’s SUV.

  In less than twenty minutes, they were on the road, headlights off, making their way back to Pinewood Springs.

  Smokey was fuming. “Who the fuck called the badges? That shithole isn’t in a residential area.”

  “One of the club whores, for sure,” Throttle said. “We were fighting with the assholes, and I saw this slut running off with her phone. I tried to go after her, but I was busy with a jerk trying to cut me.”

  “How did the prospects know about the badges?” Tank asked.

  “Heard it on the scanner,” Throttle said. “Shit, that was close.”

  “Yeah, but now we got witnesses,” Smokey said.

  “The assholes are stupid, but they’re not stupid enough to snitch. After showing them what we’re about, they won’t want to die a snitch’s death,” Throttle replied.

  “But the bitches?” Tank said. “They may turn. We’re gonna have to convince ’em it’s not in their best interest to talk or make deals with the badges.”

  “Did you waste Skeet?” Animal asked.

  Smokey clenched his jaw. “No. I beat the shit outta him, but then I saw the prospects coming.”

  Animal laughed. “Don’t sweat it, bro. There’ll be a next time.”

  “Yeah, there always is.”

  “Those pussies were weaker than shit,” Tank said. “I set off one Molotov, and they ran like a bunch of girls. What a bunch of pansies. No wonder we beat their asses so easily. I’m pissed about the bitches, though. I should’ve checked them for phones and taken them away, but I was too busy kicking disrespectful asses.”

  Animal looked worried. “Do you think they took videos? That seems to be the thing to do.”

  “I didn’t see anyone holding a cell phone, but who knows? We just gotta make sure the sluts understand we don’t tolerate snitches. At. All,” Tank said.

  As the men talked about how they showed the Rising Order what happened when they didn’t respect the Insurgents MC, Smokey settled back in the seat, making sure not to exceed the speed limit. He and the others all had blood smeared on their faces, hands, and clothes, and they didn’t need any trouble with the badges. The women could talk, and if that happened, they’d have to be sure their alibis were airtight. It was sloppy not to have searched the girls. Banger and Hawk aren’t gonna like this. We’re all in for an ass-chewing, especially Rock, and the brothers inside the house.

  Several hours later, Smokey pulled into the Insurgent’s lot, in desperate need of a shower. His clothes, as well as the other brothers’, would be burned, and the SUVs would be detailed several times.

  By the time he showered and took care of things, it would be well past three in the morning. It crossed his mind to head over to Ashley’s, but she would ask too many questions, and he wasn’t up for it. She was new to his world, so he had to slowly introduce her to it. In time, she would know what club business meant, and how it would feel to worry about him when he’d disappear for days at a time.

  Sighing, he slowly climbed the stairs to his room.

  19

  Ashley glanced at her phone to see if Smokey had called while she was in the shower. Disappointment filled her as she looked at the screen. She hadn’t heard from him since he left

  the previous afternoon. Not even a text. Nothing. So what? It was a fun weekend. Inhaling deeply, she slowly exhaled, refusing to let Smokey’s actions—or lack of—bring her down.

  After giving herself a pep talk, she took a parting glance in the mirror and walked out of the room.

  While stuffing her yoga clothes into a paisley tote bag, she went over the events of the weekend in her head. Since the day before, that was all she’d been doing while pretending to watch TV or read a magazine. She still couldn’t believe Smokey had spent the past two days with her. Whenever she thought about it, her stomach fluttered and her body ached. She never would have imagined any man having such an effect on her, but somehow, he did, in a delightful and nasty way.

  A small laugh slipped through her lips as she turned on the coffee machine. The shot of caffeine from a morning cup of coffee with cream always energized her. Draining the cup, she set it in the dishwasher before picking up her briefcase and heading out to the garage.

  Settling into the car, she locked the doors and pressed the garage door opener. Ever since that man had tried to attack her, she made it a point to be in the car when she either opened or closed the door. One the cops had called her a few days back, informing her that J
effrey was in Denver, working on the night of the incident. At first, Ashley believed the officer was just humoring her, but when she called the deputy district attorney, he confirmed that Jeffrey was employed, and had been at work that day. Then David had subtly suggested that perhaps therapy could help her to let go of her “irrational fear of Mr. Elion being out to get you.” Irrational fear, my ass. I’m not imaging any of this. But was it possible she was placing blame in the wrong place? Now that Jeffrey was working, it didn’t make sense that he was the one tormenting her, but someone was, and the tricky part was finding out who.

  Pressing the opener, she looked obsessively in the rearview mirror, then shifted gears and slowly backed out. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man stepped into the driveway.

  Startled, she cried out, “Holy shit!” and slammed on the brakes, her heart pounding as if it were about to jump out of her chest.

  Then another man came into the driveway.

  “Dammit!” Clinging to the steering wheel, she pressed her foot down on the gas and sped backward.

  The two men jumped out of the way, one of them yelling, “Ms. Callahan! Stop!”

  At the end of the driveway, her nerves snapped when she recognized Mark Ames and Gage, frozen to the spot, staring at her in disbelief. She put the car in park and jumped out.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” she shouted. “I almost hit you!”

  Mark slowly walked toward her. “No reason to be using bad language.”

  “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want to. Why the hell are you two always creeping around? I’m sick of it. Do you hear me? Sick. Of. It. Enough already!”

  After several seconds, Mark stuffed his hands in his pockets, and calmly asked, “Are you done?”

  Ashley stifled a scream. “I’m done with the repairs.” Her tone was tight and cold.

  “That’s not really your decision, is it?”

  Anger rippled through her. “I’ve told you over and over that I need to know when you and Gage are coming over, and you’ve ignored my request repeatedly. I know I’m not paying for the repairs, but it’s insulting when you purposely disregard my wishes.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you saying I’m treating you bad?”

  “Not badly, just rudely.”

  “I’ve said rude things to you?” Mark gestured for Gage to come over. “Have you heard me say anything rude to Ms. Callahan?”

  “No,” Gage mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

  “This is ridiculous,” she mumbled. “As much as I’d love to discuss this with you, I have to go to work.”

  “I asked you a question that you didn’t answer. Have I said rude things to you?”

  “No, you haven’t said anything rude, but when you ignore what I ask you to do, like letting me know when you’ll be coming over, I see that as rude.”

  He quirked his brow. “Fair enough.”

  Feeling uneasy, she turned to Gage. “And what’s your deal? You act like you don’t know me whenever I see you in the grocery store, the coffee shop, and, well, most of the places I go to. Why?”

  Gage shifted from one foot to another. “I didn’t see you,” he replied, bumbling out his answer.

  “Did you go up to him?” Mark asked her.

  Ashley threw him one of her don’t-fuck-with-me looks. “I was talking to Gage.”

  “But you’re making him uncomfortable. He said he didn’t see you, but you saw him, so I’m wondering why you didn’t go up to him and say ‘Hello’? Just saying. Seems kind of rude not to have done that.”

  Why am I wasting my time arguing with these two idiots? “Now, listen to how this is going to go down. You will not work on anything inside the house, because I’m not giving you the key. The next time you want to come over, you will call me—not Zach—and make an appointment. If you don’t, I won’t let you inside. Got it?”

  Mark narrowed his eyes.

  “Good. If you need to get ahold of me to make an appointment, you have my number.” Without waiting for a response, Ashley turned around and walked back to her car. Sliding into the seat, she closed the garage door, fastened her seatbelt, and drove away.

  By the time she got to the office, she had cooled down. The first phone call she’d make would be to Zach, informing him that unless his cheap labor followed her wishes, they were history. Even though she was living in the company house, she was still a tenant with rights.

  Pushing open the large glass doors, Sabrina’s dour face greeted her. She better not start any shit with me.

  Ashley threw her a warm smile. “Morning.”

  She looked at her suspiciously. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a perfect spring day. The marketing campaign for the company starts today, I nailed a difficult client through Zoom conferences, and I landed another big contract in Aspen.” Oh, and I spent the weekend screwing your boss. At that thought, she grinned.

  The corner of Sabrina’s lips tugged up into a small smile. “So now that the marketing has started, you’ll be going back to Denver.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Keeping her annoyance at bay, she flashed her a saccharine smile. “I don’t know. I’m really getting to like your quaint and picturesque town. I’m thinking of staying. With Zoom, the internet, and faxes, I don’t need to be in Denver.”

  Sabrina gave her one of the best death stares Ashley had seen in a while. “I know you hooked up with Smokey,” she said in a voice that could cut glass.

  “I don’t engage in office gossip.”

  “It’s not gossip—I know. I told you not to. I explained, nice-like, that we had something.”

  Ashley laughed dryly. “I don’t think you’ve ever been nice to me since I got here. Don’t get into my business. I don’t like it, and I don’t play fair.” With a toss of her hair, Ashley walked away, heading straight to Smokey’s office.

  “He’s not coming in today,” Pearl relayed when she saw her.

  Ashley looked over her shoulder at the older woman. “Is he at a site?”

  “No.”

  A thread of worry weaved its way through her. I wonder if something happened to him last night? I hope he’s okay. Why doesn’t he call me?

  “The campaign started today, so I was checking in with him. Thanks, Pearl.” Ashley ambled down the hall, acting as if nothing was amiss, even though her nerves were shot.

  For the rest of the morning, she buried herself in work to keep from playing possible scenarios of why Smokey didn’t come in. The scenarios ranged from him at Death’s door, to him regretting their weekend together. When they kept replaying in her mind, to the point of obsession, Ashley turned to her trusty friend—work, and it didn’t fail her. By early afternoon, she hadn’t thought about anything but charts, projected earnings, and marketing strategies for a number of accounts she was juggling.

  A knock on the door startled her. She looked away from the spreadsheet on her monitor to find Brady standing in the doorway. Fear gripped her. Something’s happened to Smokey. Why else would Brady be at her office? Her stomach lurched as she waved him in.

  She tried to sound calm. “What’s up?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” He took a quick look around. “You’ve got a nice office, and a killer view.”

  Realizing he was there to see her, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I lucked out.”

  Nodding, he pressed his hands together, tenting his fingers, prayerlike. “Ashley,” he said in a low voice. He looked past her shoulder to the scenery outside the window, then back to her. “I want to apologize for the way I acted on Saturday night. I was out of line. I guess I was shocked to see you with him.”

  It was as if Smokey’s name was too abhorrent for him to say.

  Ashley leaned back in her chair. “I guess we should’ve waited until we were away from the shelter. It wasn’t anything I planned.” Images of Smokey pulling her into his arms as she threw out the trash flashed through her min
d. “I was finished with my shift and heading out.”

  “Did he accost you? Because I wouldn’t be surprised. Those bikers think every woman is theirs for the taking.” Disgust tinged his tone.

  “No,” she said softly, “he didn’t.”

  Confusion spread across his face. “Then you wanted to kiss him?”

  “Yes. We’re attracted to each other. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again when I’m at the shelter. It was spontaneous, but still, that’s no excuse.”

  His smooth features shifted. Knitting his brows, his nostrils flared as he glowered at her. “Each time I’ve asked you out, you’ve turned me down, but you choose him—an outlaw biker—instead? I bet you have no idea how many illegal things that club does. They’re immoral, and they’d slit your throat before you could blink. I’m an educated, nice, well-mannered guy, but I guess you like hanging out with lowlife trash. I thought you were better than that.”

  Incensed, Ashley jumped up out of her chair. “How dare you come here and lecture me. I don’t have to explain who I choose to go out with or why. I’m a volunteer at the shelter, and that’s it. And stop talking smack about Smokey. He and his club have raised plenty of money for the shelter, or did you forget about that?”

  Brady stood up and leaned over the desk, bracing himself on his hands. “Sit down! You don’t know anything!” he shouted.

  Taken aback by the rage in his eyes, she complied. He’s beyond pissed.

  “Is everything okay?” Pearl asked from the doorway.

  Thank God for Pearl. Ashley rose to her feet. “Mr. Shelling was just leaving.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you please show him out?”

  Clasping her hands in front of her, she squared her shoulders. “Gladly. Mr. Shelling, if you’ll follow me.”

  For a tense moment, he didn’t move. Blinking slowly, he removed his hands from the desk and straightened. “You’re going to get exactly what you deserve,” he warned calmly, yet menacingly.

  Turning, he stormed past Pearl and hurried down the hall.

  “Thank you for coming in, Pearl.”

  “Anytime. I had security plugged into my cell phone and was ready to use it if he didn’t leave. I’m guessing you want us to put him on the No Entry list?”