Page 35 of Smoke

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” I huff at her. “You’ve got a bit of food poisoning, that’s all.”

“Since when did you have a PHD in medicine.”

“If you’d seen the food that gets served up at the clubhouse, then you’d know that this is far from the first time I’ve seen it.” I tap her leg with the back of my hand for her to shuffle up the bed so I can pull back the covers. “And before you ring the cops, I didn’t break in. I had your key copied.”

“Holy shit, Smoke.” She goes to sit up, but I push her back down and cover her up. “You do realize that’s not exactly legal either?” She rolls onto her side, her arms wrapping around one of the pillows and bringing it down, tucking the end under her chin. She’s facing towards me, her eyes shut.

“Maybe not, but it’s a fucking good job I did. Isn’t it?” I raise my voice at her. “What the fuck were you doing, letting Dunne pick you up from here?”

“Don’t shout at me. For your information, I didn’t give him my address. He must have found it out somehow.” She opens an eye and stares at me. “Probably the same place as you did.” Eyes closed again; she continues. “Maybe he’s having me followed.”

“He’s not,” I say with conviction.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because if he had, my guys would have noticed.” I guess the cat’s out of the bag. “I’ve had a couple of guys tailing you.”

“Then why all the heroics? Why are you here waiting for me if your guys knew exactly where I was and where I’ve been?”

“Because tonight I called my men off,” I sigh. “I weighed it up and thought it was too risky. It wasn’t until I spoke to you, and you told me he’d picked you up here, I realized it was a mistake. But it was too late. By the time one of my brothers could get here, you’d already left.”

“For someone who has coerced me into spying for you in the first place, you seem to be over concerned.Why?”

“Let me get you that water,” I reply, purposely avoiding the question. I step out into the hallway, blanking out the sound of her calling after me. I go to the refrigerator and swing open the door. Leaning in, I grab one of the water bottles on the shelf. Closing the door, I drop my forehead to the cool, glossy surface.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I acting this way and why has this beautiful, vibrant woman caught my attention?

I do like her, although I know I shouldn’t. But the fact is, I can’t let myself get involved.

“Smoke,” I hear her call again.

“What?” I snap when I walk back into the room. She’s sitting upright in the bed and I can see that she’s struggling to keep her eyes open, but her sheer determination is winning the fight.

“Why? Why are you so bothered by my safety?”

“Here,” I hold out the open bottle of water to her. “Sip it, don’t gulp it down, it will only make you sick again.”

I wait while she’s taken a few sips and hands the bottle back to me. I replace the lid and sit it on top of the bedside cabinet.

“Now, lay down and get some sleep. You should be better in the morning.”

“Are you leaving?” I can’t miss the look of concern on her face.

“Not yet. I’ll wait around for a while. Wouldn’t want you to choke if you start puking again.”

Her body relaxes, and she snuggles further under the quilt. Her skin is flushed, but when I putthe back of my hand to her forehead, she seems to be less feverish. I observe her. The rims of her eyes are red, the whites, bloodshot from all the retching. Her skin a little blotchy, slightly puffy lips parted as her breathing evens out into a rhythm that comes with sleep. Despite all this, she’s still fucking beautiful.

I could take myself off into the living room and keep checking on her from there, but instead I kick off my boots, shrug off my leather and place it over the back of the decorative chair sat in the corner of the room. I sit ever so gently on the other side of the bed and swing my legs up onto the mattress so as not to disturb her. I lean back against the bedhead, arms crossed over my chest, legs stretched out, and close my eyes. Sleep is not something that comes easily to me. It’s never restful, as it comes with visions and painful thoughts that haunt me. So, I don’t let myself go into the darkness, however a few minutes of peaceful silence is perfect.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Tenley mumbles sleepily from beside me.

“I don’t remember what it was,” I reply, knowing exactly what she’s referring to.

“Why is my safety a concern to you?”

“Because Oriana is part of the Young Outlaws’ family, which by default, makes you family.” It’s the truth.

Even though Oriana may dispute the fact she cares for her stepsister, I know. I’d seen it in her eyes when I’d defended my reasons to both her and Stone, why I’d pulled Tenley into help the MC, and that it was the right thing to do. She’s far from stupid. She knows being connected to the club comes with risks. Oriana knowsenough about Dunne, the Death Valley Irish, and the devastation that they inflicted on Stone to understand the possible implications of being associated with us.

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