Up in Smoke_A King Series Novel

by T. M. Frazier

  “Where do I begin?”

  Duke wipes his palms on his khakis, his fingers poised over the keys.

  “You’ll want to start with…” I fire off the most intricate exaggerated knowledge of the inner workings of the web. It’s a test to see what Duke really knows.

  He fails.

  Duke’s eyes go wide. “Fuck,” he swears, dropping his head to his hands.

  “I’ll do it,” I tell him. “I promise, I’ll get your uncle’s money back. I just want him to leave my friends alone. Please.” I beg, even going so far as to push out my lower lip.

  Duke growls. He’s going to give in. I haven’t given him a lot of choice. “Fine, but don’t fuck it up, or we’re both dead,” Duke says.

  I’m sorry Duke.

  He cuts the restraints from my wrists and slides the keyboard over to me. He looks over my shoulder, and I don’t bother to cover my tracks as I pull up the codes I need. Something tells me Duke’s biggest hacking boast is stealing someone’s Facebook password.

  My fingers fly across the screen as I tap into the in-house server and empty every single account Griff has. Then I do exactly what I came here to do. Why I had to come here alone. Why I couldn’t risk Smoke and his friends storming in here for revenge and possibly destroying the information before I got my hands on it. When it’s done I send a backup of every file on the server to Nine, including what I hope will be enough information to allow him to locate Smoke’s baby.

  I’m the conductor again, leading my orchestra to the grandest of finales. The entire time Duke is watching me and nodding like the poor fucker knows anything about what I’m doing.

  “One more thing and it’s all done,” I say.

  “No funny business,” Duke warns.

  I turn to face Duke and smile sweetly. “Oh, I guarantee, there isn’t anything funny about it.” I press enter. The power to the building shuts down.

  The room goes black.

  “You little bitch!” Duke shrieks, pounding on the keys of the now dead and useless computer.

  I smile. “Oops?”

  The door swings open. Griff appears flanked by two men dressed all in black with guns at the ready. The three men are aglow in red from the emergency lights lining the ceiling.

  Duke stands and points accusingly at me. “She…I…” he stammers.

  Griff nods to the man next to him who raises his gun and fires a single bullet into Duke’s chest. Duke stammers back with a shocked look on his face and blood seeping from his mouth. He collapses backward onto the table, breaking it in half and taking it down with him.

  I’m oddly calm as Griff enters the room, storming up to me. His fist connects with my jaw, and for a moment, I see stars. The room is spinning around me as I fall off the chair.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” He breathes his question as he stands over me. His angry, red face made even redder by the lights.

  “I took away your power,” I say, laughing maniacally at my pun.

  “How much did you take?” he asks.

  I smile in response.

  “How the fuck much?” he bellows, holding out his hand for his lackey to place a gun in it.

  “All of it,” I say. “I took all of it.”

  “Fuck!!!!!” Griff yells, tearing at his hair and yelling to the walls. “Fuuuuuuuuccckkkk!”

  “You think you took my power?” he chuckles and kicks me square in the gut. I feel my ribs crack on impact. I fold in on myself trying to breathe through the pain, but it’s impossible because it’s too much. It’s all too fucking much.

  “You’re not smiling now, are ya?” Griff says, aiming the gun at me. “We’ll see who has the power when I’m through with you.”

  Whatever is heading my way has been a long time coming. I’m as prepared as I can be as he cocks the gun. At least it’s only me dying in this scenario. I brace myself and close my eyes. For the first time in my life, I have a happy place to escape to. Or rather, a happy person. I immerse myself in thoughts of Smoke. Of our time together.

  Of the love I feel for him stronger than any bullet.

  Griff pulls the trigger.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I park my bike at the top of the hill. The van stops behind me, and Nine and Preppy get out while King and Bear pull their bikes up beside me. Below us is Griff’s three-story building. An old library from the sixties turned warehouse is tucked into a quiet valley that’s about to be anything but quiet.

  “Two on top, two on left, and three guarding the door,” Bear says quietly, peeling the binoculars away from his eyes.

  “And one blonde holding what looks like a detonator,” Preppy chimes in. My head turns to him, and I quickly spot what he’s staring at.

  There’s Rage, lying on her stomach in the tall grass, holding a very recognizable detonator in her hand because it’s one I’d taught her how to make. Realization hits me, and I sprint toward her, not caring who hears me.

  “Rage! No!” I scream.

  “Keep your voice down!” King shouts, but it’s too late. They’ve already heard me. The dirt all around me begins to explode when bullets being shot from the roof of the building connect with the ground.

  “Rage, don’t!” I scream, but she has her earbuds in. Her foot tapping from side to side with the beat of whatever she’s listening to.

  She turns and sees me, glancing back up at the building like she’s confirming that I’m being shot at. I’m almost to her, I can almost grab the detonator from her hand, but with one last glance, Rage offers me something I’ve never seen on her face before. An apology.

  Her finger squeezes the trigger and the building explodes in spectacular fashion, vibrating through the ground like an earthquake, crumbling down like a sandcastle being trampled over.

  “Nooooooo!” I scream, as half the building falls and my heart along with it. “Nooooo!” I haven’t lost any of my forward momentum. I roll into Rage, toss her on her back and press my gun into her forehead. She doesn’t react, just stares up at my face like she’s trying hard to understand something. She won’t be looking like that long. She’ll be looking like she’s missing her brain in a minute because I’m about to put a fucking bullet in it.

  “Can’t let you do that,” Bear says, producing his own gun and holding it to the back of my head.

  “Then do it!” Another explosion shakes the ground. “What the fuck did you do?” I ask, only able to get out every other syllable. My voice shakes and cracks. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Bear presses his gun against my head again as if to remind me he’s still there.

  “I don’t want to do this, man,” Bear growls.

  I see King slowly walk to one side and Preppy the other as if they could somehow tackle me off her before I pull the trigger. They’re not that fast.

  “Tell me why!” I demand again.

  Rage looks up at me expressionless. There is no fear in her eyes. “Because she loves you,” she says softly, placing her palm against my cheek. The act of kindness and the softness of her tone throws me off balance. “Because you love her. Because I love YOU.” Her face twists in pain, not from me on top of her but at her own words.

  It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Has Rage finally lost her shit completely?

  “Wow,” Preppy says. “Should you two get a room?”

  “Not like that, dumb-ass,” Rage says, rolling her eyes like I’m not about to murder her. She glances up to me. “Frankie asked me to, but I couldn’t do it.” She shrugs.

  “Couldn’t what?” I ask, slamming my fist on the ground beside her head.

  “She asked me to bring her to Griff then wait a half hour. If she didn’t come out by then she wanted me to blow the building. I couldn’t do it. Not with her inside. So I set the explosives on the exterior and only one inside. I’ve only blown the exterior ones. It won’t bring the place down until I blow the final one, but it will shake the place up a bit. Hopefully cause enough of a distraction for her to get the fuck out.”


  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it, but there’s no time. I have to get to Frankie.

  “It’s true, man,” Nine chimes in. “How did you think I knew where this place was? Why do you think you’re here?”

  “Why the fuck would she do this?”

  “She went in so you wouldn’t. She didn’t want anyone to die when…”

  Holy fuck. Frankie sacrificed herself….for me.

  I get off Rage who sits up and passes me a tablet. “I inserted one of those thingies into her skin behind her ear before she went in. She’s in the far east side of the building. “Here,” Rage says, pointing to a blinking red light on the screen.

  “Come on, then. You two can talk this out later,” Bear says. “We need to figure out how we’re…”

  I make a run for my bike.

  “What are you doing?” Preppy shouts above my revving engine.

  I look out at the warehouse below. “I’m going in!”

  “We’ll cover you!” he shouts, his words lost to the wind as I take off down the hill.

  King was right. I’ll shed the blood of every fucking man who gets in the way of my saving Frankie. There’s no one I won’t kill.

  I’ll burn the fucking world down for her and bask in the motherfucking flames.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  I’m in so much pain. My shirt is stained red as blood seeps from the bullet wound in my stomach. I clutch my hands over it, but there’s no keeping it in; it pours through my fingers and drips onto the concrete floor.

  I’m light-headed. Everything around me seems to slow down.

  An explosion sounds in the distance like far off cannon fire. The walls shake and dust falls from the rafters to the floor.

  Wood and concrete is falling all around me. Griff’s men are running, but I can’t run with them. I can’t even move.

  Griff is shouting orders. A large metal panel falls on top of the man he’s shouting at so he turns to the next one. I throw away paint brushes that have lost most of their bristles less flippantly.

  The wall explodes, the garage door caves in. A huge black motorcycle appears from nowhere, airborne, its tires spinning against the air, crashing down onto the ground.

  Smoke.

  Tears of relief spring to my eyes followed by a pit of horror burning a hole in my stomach. He can’t put himself at risk like this. Not for me. He has too much on the line now, and there’s too many of them.

  “No! Go back!” I shout, but there’s no way he can hear me over the roar of the engine echoing through the large open space.

  The bike lurches onto its side, but Smoke stays upright, stepping out from the spinning pile of metal like he’s stepping over a puddle in the street. He heads straight for the two men guarding me. There’s a look in his eyes.

  Determination.

  He’s hyper-focused. I realize it didn’t matter if he heard me tell him to go back or not. He’s beyond hearing right now. Beyond thought. He’s somewhere I can’t reach him.

  No one can.

  Smoke’s movements are fluid. Downright graceful. He’s wearing black fingerless gloves and his cut, with nothing on underneath except his colorful tattooed skin and lean ripped muscle.

  The bike careens into the wall in an explosion of fire yet Smoke doesn’t so much as flinch as he’s backlit in flames.

  Griff’s two men stare, slack-jawed, for a beat too long when the realization hits. They both raise their guns at Smoke. I want to scream I want to jump in front of the bullets, but sharp pain meets my every move, rendering me useless.

  Smoke’s fingers flex at his side. His nostrils flare. He stares down the men holding their guns on him like he has all the time in the world. The men fire, but Smoke continues to advance on them, side-stepping the bullets.

  “Shit,” the shorter of the two men curses while reloading his gun with trembling hands. The other does the same, but it’s too late for them. Much too fucking late.

  Smoke crisscrosses his arms over his torso, reaching under his cut, each hand emerges holding a large metal gun boasting long wide barrels. He’s eerily calm as he stretches out his arms in front of him and fires a single bullet from each gun into their heads. Just as they fall lifeless to the ground, more men appear on opposite sides of the room. Smoke lifts his arms out to his sides and fires. When a bullet misses his head by only a few inches, he turns his gun behind him and fires, hitting the man without so much as a glance in his direction.

  This isn’t Smoke the kidnapper or Smoke the killer or even Smoke the lover. No, this is Smoke, the man. The rescuer. This was Smoke with someone and something to live for.

  It was both terrifying and thrilling all at once.

  Despite what has transpired between us, this beautifully brutal man came here and put his life on the line to save me.

  A bullet pierces Smoke’s shoulder. Streams of bright red drip down his arm to his wrist, seeping into my shirt as he bends to gather me into his arms. He places a heavy gun between my bound hands

  “Can you shoot?” he asks.

  I nod even though the gun feels heavy. So does my own head. I can barely lift it.

  “Listen to me, and pull the trigger when I say so.” He sets up the gun so it’s mostly resting on his arm, and it’s no longer heavy in my grip. “Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” I say on a feeble whisper.

  Smoke lifts me into his strong arms, his blood both wets and warms my skin.

  There’s movement to the side. A shuffling of feet.

  “Fire,” Smoke orders, turning us around.

  I do as I’m told and fire along with Smoke. I hear a deep grunt followed by a crash as his body hit something on its way down to the ground.

  Smoke’s on the move, heading back out from the hole he created with his bike.

  “Fire,” he says again, and I do as I’m told.

  “Good girl,” he says, and I smile, or at least I think I do. It’s hard to tell with all the spinning going on above me. I lock eyes on his jaw, the slope of his nose, the scar above his eye. I think of how beautiful this man is. How angry and horrible and violent and beautiful.

  I’m tired. Oh so very tired. My wrist goes limp. The gun falls from my hand. I focus on Smoke. On the lines of his face and neck. I look out to the field around us. Construction matter, bodies.

  Blood.

  I am having the nightmare again. The one where I’m in Smoke’s arms being carried across a bloody battlefield. Only this time it’s not a nightmare. There’s no fear, only comfort. I now know that the feeling of safety that envelops me in the dream as he wraps me in his arms isn’t wrong.

  He’s protecting me. Loving me in his own way. So, I let him love me. Protect me. And I close my eyes, letting the darkness take me under. I’m lost to the dream. I’m safe.

  I just need to rest now. Just for a moment. The feeling is overpowering. I give in, closing my eyes, because I have to. I have no other choice. I’m just so tired.

  Oh, so very tired.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “No!” I scream as Frankie’s eyes flutter then close. She’s covered with blood oozing from her stomach. I give her a shake while the dirt continues to explode all around me. I’m running up the hill. King, Preppy, and Bear follow me, covering me, shooting anyone who comes near.

  Nine is waiting with the van when we get to the top.

  “I thought you said you planted three bombs?” Preppy asks.

  “I did,” Rage says.

  “I only heard two,” Preppy crosses his arms over his chest.

  Rage flashes him a wink and another explosion sounds, taking the last bit of the building with it to the ground. “As I was saying,” Rage smiles victoriously. “Three bombs.”

  “You two conspire to take out an entire criminal organization by yourselves and fail to include me?” Preppy asks, feigning hurt, with his jaw open and his hand on his chest.

  “Next time we need a court jester for a job, I’ll let you know,” Rage says, tucking her
earbuds into her pocket.

  “Listen here, Rambo Barbie,” Preppy says, taking a step toward her as we reach the van.

  “Children,” King warns.

  Nine opens the door, and I place Frankie gently across the seat. She’s fading fast. Everyone heads further into the woods to retrieve their bikes, and Rage her Vespa. Preppy hops in with us, and Nine backs us out and speeds down the road.

  “Why did you do this?” I ask Frankie as I haul her across my lap and look down at her beautiful face.

  My chest is hurting. My throat burns every time she gasps for air. She winces with every rattling breath.

  “You risked your life,” I tell her, and I want to yell at her, throttle her, punish her for putting herself in danger like that. But my need to punish her dies a quick death when her eyes close and her chest shakes. “Why?”

  Frankie’s eyes open slightly. She stares up at me. “For you. For the flash drive,” she coughs out. Her head falls to the side. Her eyes close.

  This time they stay closed.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  “I’ll love you with everything I have and all that I am. It ain’t much, but it’s yours if you’ll let me give it to you. If you’ll wake up. Please fuckin’ wake up, baby. Wake the fuck up!” I beg Frankie as I carry her in the front door of the club.

  I set her down on the pool table in the main office area. I’m gentle for the first time in my memory, careful not to bump her head. I feel like a meteor struck the earth, splitting it in two because my world has been split in two. With the sudden possibility that Frankie may no longer be in that world, it all might as well crumble to dust.

  Rage is watching me. I can feel her eyes at my back.

  “If you’re going to stand there staring, you might as well fucking help,” I bark.

  Frankie let’s out a strangled breath, and for a moment, I think she’s waking up until the sound fades, and nothing is left in its place.

  I’ve been shot before. I’ve been stabbed. But nothing, nothing I've ever experienced could compare to the pain of possibly watching the only woman I'd ever truly loved take her very last breath.