Page 11 of Smoke

“Yeah, that’s the one.” My voice wavers as I try tostop myself from laughing at the dumbass whose slip-up has managed to piss off every one of his brothers by confirming what I knew was correct.

“You got into an altercation with another MC from Sacramento that had been passing through without giving you fair warning. Which by all accounts is a major insult and highly disrespectful, hence the initial clash ended up escalating into a bloody battle inside and outside of the bar which, of course, spilled out onto the sidewalk and got the attention of the local law.”

Deep guffaws come from a couple of the guys sitting on my left. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hurricane smirk and give Crave a congratulatory slap on the back as if revisiting what must have been a violent and explosive episode as a fond memory.

“What did surprise me,” I make my voice louder to make sure I get back control of this little group tete-a-tete. “There was not one report of any arrests and no record of any hospital admissions.” I fix my eyes on Smoke, cock my head to one side. “Strange, huh?”

I remember thinking at the time I was reading the report that I would have thought that at least one of the beat-up numb nuts would have required medical treatment. Had the cops turned a blind eye? By all accounts, the bar was a mess. Surely, someone would have wanted their pound of flesh from the culprits. Unless… it was a known haunt for the club. Chances are the owner didn’t press charges and money exchanged hands to make it all go away.

“I kept coming up with the same kind of stuff. Nothing I could really get to work on. All of them startwith potential then end up dissolving into nothing. No arrests, no charges, no hospital admissions.”

“That’s because they were all irrelevant, stupid misunderstandings that didn’t warrant any further actions,” Smoke smirks as he stubs out his burnt down tab. “Simple as.” He immediately goes to the cigarette packet that he’s left on the tabletop and pulls out another tab. I wait until he’s lit up again before I continue.

“I call bullshit,” I jeer back at him, causing him to splutter as he inhales and sets him off into a coughing fit.

“What the fuck…” another spluttering cough.

“You see,” I let my gaze roam from one side of the table, starting with my stepsister’s man, hitting every single one of them with a knowing smile before landing firmly back on the man himself. “Smoke, another thing that surprises me was the fact that not one of those reports warranted been locked away within the Reno’s restricted article access. Usually it’s the murders, rapes and shootings that grace this kind of security level. Yet here you are. The Young Outlaws MC.”

“You’re reaching woman, and you know it. You’re looking for something that simply is not there.” Smoke jabs the lit cigarette he’s holding between the pad of his thumb and index finger in my direction. “We’re simply a bunch of dudes that have a liking for motorcycles who hang around together. Sure, we get into a scrape or two, we’re passionate men, but that’s it. Nothing more.

“You know, at one point, I was thinking the same, that I was wasting my time, my search was futile until I come across a small piece that covered an anonymouscall made to the Reno Police.” This is now going to get interesting. “The story goes that there was a turf war going on, drugs of course, claiming that the Death Valley Irish were encroaching on what historically has always been handled by the Young Outlaws.”

“You’re talking shit, woman,” Smoke grinds. Now, this is news to him. Not something that I had divulged in his office and by the look on his face, he’s struggling to keep his emotions under control. “There’s no turf war and the Young Outlaws don’t deal drugs.”

“Sorry, your right, I do apologize,” I say sweetly. “You supply the drugs, but you get your street soldiers to do the actual dealing.”

“You’re treading on very thin ice, girl.” Stone snarls at me, jumping in, backing up his Prez.

“Not as thin as you were. There was report of guns, but no record of any gunshots being fired. Still, this story didn’t hit the broadsheets. It was then that I needed to take a different approach to get to you.” I say, pointing to Smoke. His eyes are like hot coals, black with fire surrounding them. “I turned my attention to the Death Valley Irish.”

Chapter

Eight

Tenley

Seeking out the Death Valley Irish hadn’t been easy. It had meant a lot more research and a number of late-night stakeouts, which, the majority of the time, led to nothing.

Then, one afternoon, out of the blue, a little over a week ago, I struck gold.

I’d been working non-stop trawling the internet, updating my file on what little else had come to light. Or, late night stalking the joints that I knew were frequented by the Death Valley Irish. When I’d gone to my refrigerator and found nothing but a stale block of cheese and a half-used carton of sour milk, I knew it was time to get showered and dressed to go out and grocery shop.

I was on my period, craving all things chocolate and cranky as… well, a menstruating woman without a sugar fix.

Walmart was out of my patience league that day as itwas midweek, school vacation time and would only be overrun with flustered mothers with a zillion kids, running riot, squealing and crying because they can’t have the toy they’re clutching like their life depended on it, with sticky hands. The toy that’s made of nothing other than the cheapest of plastic and quite possibly a dangerous choking hazard.

Instead, I go to a local grocery store that I know will have everything I need albeit not quite as cheap. But hey, my sanity is worth the extra few dollars.

I’d already piled my cart up with fresh milk, bread and enough micro meals for the week. Candy bars and sweet treats to kill my cravings for the next three cycles, leaving me with one thing still to get.

I was while trying to decide between butter pecan or mint chocolate chip ice cream I sensed someone standing behind me.

“Sorry,” I said, moving to the side so that they could get access to the freezer shelf.

“Can’t make up your mind?” The deep voice, with a distinctive Gaelic almost lyrical lilt, tickles the side of my face.

I turned to see who the sexy as fuck voice belonged to, only to come face to face with the man himself, Paddy Dunne. The insta-shock had me taking in such a deep unexpected breath that I almost choked on my own tongue.

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