by Silver James
Only he wasn’t. He was dead, found in a burned-out storefront—a fire set using a trigger I knew had been developed by Smoke. I needed to call Captain Fielding. I needed to go to the police. By keeping me from reporting the assault to begin with, Smoke had thrust me right into the middle of this vendetta of his.
I snapped a picture then backed away. I had to find someplace where I could be alone, where I could think things through. First, though, I had a job to do. I’d worry about fall-out and repercussions later. I had a buddy in the DA’s office. I guy I’d dated for awhile and we’d parted as friends. He was assigned a lot of the arson cases. He liked my closure rate so we worked well together. Yeah, maybe I could talk to Daniel.
Grabbing the rest of my gear, I waded into the scene. A shadow in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A dog—big one. Like a German Shepherd. Something nudged at my subconscious—something about big dogs I’d seen lately.
“Yo, Daniels!” One of the firefighters yelled, breaking my concentration. “About time you showed up.”
Smoke
I WAS STARING at the bottom of the empty glass in front of me. Rook stood behind the bar ready to pour another tequila but I waved him away. It’s fucking hard to drown your sorrows in booze when you can’t get drunk.
“Fuck, Smoke,” Rook finally said. “This sucks.”
“No shit.” Boner was in the wind. Digger was tracking him down but we all knew Boner had been the one to snatch the kid, kill him, and dump him in that building. He’d burned it to make it look like I’d done it. Only I wasn’t that fucking sloppy. None of us were. When a Nightrider took out someone, that someone never got found.
Rook lifted the bottle of Patron to his lips to take a swig straight from the source. He never got the chance as all hell broke loose. Stun grenades. Tear gas. Fuck. I couldn’t hear a damn thing. I could feel liquid trickling from my ears. Blood. Rook looked as bad as I felt. Neither of us moved as the SWAT team swarmed in.
Three of them took me to the floor. I had to read lips—not that I didn’t know the score already. They dragged me outside. Ten Nightriders were lined up against the wall, held at gunpoint. Digger was there and he caught my eye. I’d have legal backup as soon as I cleared the booking process.
I went without a fight.
Leigh
I TILTED MY HEAD back as far as it would go against the chair, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe. My chest hurt. My stomach hurt. Even the ends of my hair hurt.
“This is what happens when you drink your whiskey neat,” I groused to the empty room. The massive hangover was no one’s fault but my own. Coffee hadn’t touched it. I’d done the right thing, having Smoke arrested. Every shred of evidence pointed to him. Brian Jenner, USMC. Honorable discharge. Marine Force Recon. Explosive Ordinance Device technician. He could build a bomb faster than he could disarm one.
And he’d told me himself he’d killed people. I pinched the bridge of my nose hoping that would help the pain. It didn’t.
What made a man turn bad? He’d been a hero. Had medals to prove it, according to his record. But after leaving the Marine Corps, he’d drifted. Gotten in with the Nightriders. They were…
I felt like I was falling, spinning out of control so I returned my head to a normal position and opened my eyes. The room continued to spin as I stared at the man sitting much too close.
“And here I thought we were friends.”
Even as that drawling, arrogant voice made my jerk my head hard enough to elicit a whimper, tendrils of need curled through my body. How the hell had he gotten inside my house? I’d changed the locks. Oh, wait. Criminal. Great. I could add another breaking and entering to his rap sheet. I was pissed—pissed that he was a criminal. Pissed that he was sitting in my living room. Pissed that I’d second-guessed myself.
Anger. I could use it as a defense. I curled my lip in a snarl. “Not even close.”
A slow blink, a quirked mouth. He hadn’t touched me but I was hot for him. “Guess that means we’re more.”
Wait? “More?”
“Yes, Leigh. More. You think I don’t want a relationship? Something permanent?”
“Something permanent? What? Like boyfriend-girlfriend? Marriage? Give me a break, Smoke.”
“I plan to give you lots of things, Leigh, but a break isn’t one of them.”
I forced my brain to think around the headache and the awareness gathering low in my center. In self-defense, or maybe it was curiosity, I pushed. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Type?”
“Yeah, to marry. Someone who would settle down with one woman. You are the type who would screw his way through every woman on the planet.”
He laughed, the sound like dark chocolate teasing my tongue, and I craved him like he was a hot brownie covered in ice cream. I was in so much trouble.
“What would you say to the fact that when I meet the right woman, I will take her—only her. Now. Always.”
“Meet the right woman? What, you mean like your soul mate?”
Red lights glinted in the depths of his brown eyes and I wondered how—why—he sometimes seemed so wild, so untamed?
His eyes shuttered and he looked like he wanted to eat me with a spoon. He traced my cheekbone and then my jaw with the tip of one finger. “Something like that.”
I closed my eyes as he dipped his head, knowing what was coming but unprepared for the sensation that arrowed through me, from my lips straight to my vagina. He devoured my mouth, sucking, nibbling, invading. He wasn’t kissing me, he was conquering me. Words he’d said to me once before came back. “I can let you go if you say no, but if you say yes, this is it. You’re…” As if he was reading my mind, Smoke whispered one word against my skin.
“Mine.”
God help me, I was. And I would do whatever necessary to keep him safe.
Leigh
I WALKED OUT of the courthouse and heard the pipes of a Harley. There’s not another sound like it—as I’d discovered during the past few weeks. I didn’t want it to be Smoke riding up. He’d done enough damage in my life. My career was in tatters, thanks to his actions. My coworkers in Arson no longer trusted me. Everything I’d worked for was gone in a puff of smoke. No freaking pun intended.
I’d fallen for him—hook, line, and damn sinker. I heard his pretty words and believed them. I surrendered my body to his hands—sexy hands that turned me inside out and set me on fire. I should have known better. He could do no more to me. He’d already incinerated my heart.
Taking the only steps I thought I had left, I’d gone to Daniel Ortiz, assistant DA. I laid it all out. The cops already had an APB out for Smoke. My hope was to talk him into surrendering. Daniel had gone to the DA. There was room for negotiation.
The black motorcycle rolled to a stop and the rider sat there, helmet on, watching me through the tinted faceplate. When he removed it, my heart lurched wildly—an unusual action for something that had currently been a lump of charcoal lodged in my chest.
Two deputies, on courthouse security detail, strolled outside. I glanced back at them. Their faces were unforgiving as they formed a line behind me.
“Problem, Miz Daniels?”
“I’ve got this, deputy.”
“If you say so.” He didn’t sound convinced.
I didn’t want backup for this, nor did I need big ears eavesdropping on this conversation so I trudged over to the bike. “You need to go away, Smoke. They’re about sixty seconds away from arresting you.”
“Not leavin’ without you, babe.”
My treacherous heart thudded. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Does in my world.”
His world. A world of outlaw bikers, shoot-outs, and crazy people. I didn’t fit in his world. And he darn sure didn’t fit in mine. He was an arsonist and the irony of that made my stomach cramp. It couldn’t be that simple.
“Yeah, babe, it is that simple.”
How did he read my mind like that? I was a trained investigator. I didn’t wea
r my emotions on my sleeve.
Smoke stared down the guys at my back. “You’re comin’ with me.” He sounded so sure. His eyes flicked to me. “Get on the bike.”
I got on the bike. Maybe it was that simple.
Smoke
HER ARMS AROUND my waist should have settled me, settled my wolf. It didn’t. Her scent was off and I couldn’t sniff out her emotions. Weird.
I stopped at a light and swiveled my head to catch a glimpse of Leigh. “Have you eaten today?”
A vee formed between her brows and her mouth drew down at the corners. “No.”
That settled at least one thing. I knew where to go. Red’s. I needed meat. When I pulled into the parking lot, Leigh didn’t seem surprised. I cut the engine on the bike.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Tough shit. You need to eat.” I waited for her to get off. When she continued to straddle the bike, I got off and faced her. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing.”
I caught a whiff of rotten apples, not that I needed my nose to know she was lying. “Babe.”
“Fine!” she snapped. “I’ve had a bad day, okay? Satisfied?”
Nope. Not even close, but I let it go for now. We’d eat. We’d go to her place. We’d talk. I turned and headed for the entrance. “You comin’?”
Leigh
SMOKE WATCHED me wearily. The crinkles fanning his eyes, normally put there by a sexy smile, were drawn now by emotions I couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t angry. Resigned maybe. Or was it regret I saw in his gaze.
We’d eaten in silence and then Smoke brought me home. He didn’t settle, choosing to lean against the pass-through between my living room and kitchen, his posture wary.
“You’re in trouble, Smoke.”
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t speak—waiting in that patient hunter way of his for me to continue. I pulled out my cell phone, opened my photo library. I tapped the photo I wanted and set it down on the bar. He ignored the phone, holding my gaze instead.
“I recognized him as soon as I saw him. Alex. He was a stupid college kid. He was the one who roofied me. The one you said you’d taken care of.” I flicked my finger across the screen to reveal a second photo showing the ignition device we’d found at the fire. “This should look familiar too. I recognized it immediately.”
“So I’m guilty as charged?” His voice reminded me of a body in the morgue—cold and lifeless.
“No. But you have to talk to me.”
“Not talkin’ about this, babe.”
I blew out a breath and waited. Silence stretched between us. So tense a headache was starting, I closed my eyes and tucked my chin against my chest before raising my face to the ceiling. I opened my eyes and shifted so I could focus on Smoke.
“You won’t talk or you can’t?” I kept frustration out of my voice because I needed to know.
“My life is tricky, babe. The club, it’s all about the brothers. We live together. Die together. Betrayal isn’t an option.”
I unclenched my fists, forced my fingers to stretch. This was not the time to lose my temper. “So…your motorcycle gang always comes first?” Sarcasm warred with hurt but I had to do something to protect myself. Right? I mean, if he picked them over me…
He straightened, eyes as sharp as a hawk’s now, his gaze raking me. When he spoke, his voice was deathly cold again. “Club, Leigh. A brotherhood. We aren’t a gang.” He focused on my face. “Fuck, babe. What did you do?”
Smoothing the hair prickling on my arms, I braced for his anger. “When you picked me up this afternoon at the courthouse? I’d just left the District Attorney’s office. I spoke to the DA on your behalf.” I lifted my chin. “I made a deal for you.”
His reaction was immediate and visceral. “You just signed my death warrant. And yours.”
I shivered from the energy emanating from him as nerves propelled me backwards. I knew better than to reach for him so I put a chair between us and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Not true. The DA will protect you.”
His howl of laughter wasn’t what I expected. Nor was the feral glint in his eyes. “You don’t get it, babe. And you never will.”
Smoke strode to the door, snagging his leather jacket from the hall tree. He jerked it on over his leather vest. He opened the door, paused. Without turning around, he said, “We’re done. Finished. I’ll try to protect you before I die.”
The door snicked to a close. He was gone.
What had I done?
Chapter 17
Smoke
I STRADDLED MY BIKE, kicked it into gear. I had to get away. The Nightriders had fancy attorneys, like Clarice. She’d earn her big retainer. She’d take care of the bogus charges. The lawyers always fixed things, even the shit we were guilty of. No, I wasn’t running from my arrest. Fuck. I wasn’t running at all. I was riding. Heading out into the night where I belonged.
On the road. Sayonara, baby. The bitch had turned on me. And I was the biggest gawddamned fool on the planet to have believed we could make something together. Ha. The arson investigator and the arsonist. At best, it was a bad B movie. At worst?
At worst, it was just exactly what had happened. She didn’t believe me. Didn’t believe in me. I was fire. She was water. Only she wasn’t. She should have quenched my heat, but she was the fire, lighting me up, burning through my blood. She lit up my darkness when she should have just faded into it.
I hit the highway doing eighty. The wind’s fingers twisted in my hair, not like the lover she had always been, but like the whore she could be on a cold night on a lonely stretch of road. A more philosophical man might wax on about the symbolism of the empty road. Me? I'd always been a lone Wolf. By definition, I was alone. And who the hell had time to be lonely? Not me. Fuck no, not me.
My heart burned in my chest—not with heat but with a frigid intensity that left my whole body numb. I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t care as long as it was away from her. From Leigh. I should never have stopped. Never turned around to go back for her that godforsaken morning.
And I damn sure should never have fucked her. Forget about trust. Forget about love. She was a disaster waiting to happen and when she erupted? She seared me to my very soul. My only hope was to get out of range, so far away she couldn’t reach out, couldn’t touch me, couldn’t set my night on fire.
A Texas State Trooper jumped on my ass at Denton. I was doing 110 miles per hour by Gainesville and the Red River bridge crossing into Oklahoma was nothing but a blur. I’d called ahead. So had the trooper. Oklahoma troopers were massed and waiting, seeing as Texas decided the Okies could take the risk of catching me.
I grinned into the wind, more wolf than man at that moment. With reflexes honed in my very DNA, I shifted gears, slammed brakes, slid sideways, and threaded the fucking roadblock like it was the eye of a needle and I was silk thread.
Some of the brothers from the Oklahoma chapter were waiting at the first exit, the one that led to the big Indian casino. I whipped in, rode hard, and got right back on I-35 using the on-ramp on the other side. By the time the cops got untangled, my Oklahoma brothers were strung out behind me, running interference. I grinned, teeth biting at the night when the first set of blue lights lit up the last bike in the pack.
I was running dark, my night vision that of the wolf. The brothers all had their lights on. They’d be picked off one by one, questioned, harassed, but eventually freed. By the time the cops caught the last one, I would be in Oklahoma City at the clubhouse, drowning my stupid, sorry ass in pity and pussy because a Wolf couldn’t get drunk. Or stoned. Fuckin’ metabolism.
But sex? Yeah. I’d find a willing woman. Or three. Sweet butts who would give me whatever I wanted. And what I wanted was to be free of Leigh. To get her out of my head, off my dick, and the fuck out my life. That was the plan anyway. Too fucking bad I’d already marked her, claimed her.
Leigh
DAY, NIGHT. Night, day. They were all the same. I’d been place
d on paid leave pending an investigation. My job was part of the deal to get Smoke to inform on the Nightriders. If I could deliver suspects or intel on the gang and their cohorts, then those in charge would look the other way about my collusion with a known gang member.
God but I was an idiot. I was so sure that my…my what? My allure? My pure and true love for the bad boy? What possessed me to believe that Smoke had real feelings for me?
I rubbed my chest, tired of the continuous ache there. My lungs constricted every time I tried to take a deep breath. Tears remained a continuous prickle behind my eyelids. Smoke had never cared for me. He’d lied about his feelings. Mine, he’d claimed. I called bullshit on that. I wasn’t his. When someone was yours, you did whatever it took to keep them, to hold onto them. You didn’t get all pissed and storm out, riding away into the dark with a nonchalant, “We’re done. Finished.”
The other parting words he said? Those I ignored. I could protect myself, especially from him. And if his motorcycle brothers were all so loyal, they wouldn’t kill him. That was just total crap, justification to walk out on me.
That late-night conversation I’d overheard before we were almost blown up in the boathouse played over and over in my brain. I was just a pawn. Had been from the moment he flashed that cheeky grin at me. He’d obviously been following me, just waiting for a chance to make his move.
It was bad luck that sent that dog running across the road in front of me. That’s all. Because no way could he ride around with a freaking silver German Shepherd on his Harley. I paced the length of my living room for the ten hundred thousandth and one times. There was something about that dog.
Ha! That’s what I should do. Adopt a dog. Dogs were faithful. They loved you even when you didn’t love yourself. They were slobbery and shed and tracked in mud and needed attention. And they took up half the bed. Just like Smoke.
I swiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands. I was not crying. I hated him. Period. He’d used me. Set me up. Left me to deal with the fall out. And that witch of a defense attorney was just…mean. I don’t even know why I called her. But I had to try.